Posts for June 11, 2018 (page 3)

I step outside
Putting grass-mowing shoes on
The requisite beer alongside

i am the
goddamn
king and queen
together.
power
endless and abound.
and you think
i’m still just
your pawn.
ha!

You think you know 
your body
until the time comes
to shove a silicone cup
inside yourself,
which hurts 
and you just can’t figure out
how to get it in far enough
that you don’t have to waddle,
crouched like giving birth.
Which is more upsetting?
Not being comfortable enough
with yourself to keep trying
or
smacking a sticky sheet of cotton
in your giant underwear
when you quickly give up?

three in the morning
most people are still sleeping
back ache seems to be common
disturbs my rest

when it hunts for you—
the great authority
high sheriff on a horse among the barefoot—
shape shifter
benefactor unmasked

it can take away your children
your freedom
your life–

blind hatred
ignoble justice

when you’re on the run
it sucks the air from your lungs
so you hide—

you learn invisible—
you learn flea
on the hyena of fear

i.
I’ve been bowed, basking before a bright altar;
A new prayer performed.
“Let the rest of this year be something soft.”
A lamb amongst beds of blooms.
ii.
I am penning a new scripture for myself.
I’ve rested the book of matches, and began the book of pressed flowers.
Evergrowing and hungry

It was that
college relationship
that taught
me so much 
including
not to trust
someone who cheats 
and not to
keep fighting
for someone
who won’t
fight for you.

When I gave up
I took nine
Ani DiFranco CDs
and left behind
a king-size
pink blanket
with silky
satin edges.
I got the better
end of the deal,
but I still
miss that blanket.

In my little town is a big old bridge
Its’ aesthetic beauty a consequence of engineering
The height is needed to support parabolically stressed cables
Feel the hum when you touch one  

If you were an artist in the 1930’s in Leningrad
You painted strong workingmen swinging large hammers
If you live here
You paint the bridge  

You might take pictures
Or use charcoal smudges
But if you claim to be an artist in my little town
You must paint the bridge  

Self-inflicted despotic tyranny
You must paint the bridge

Tossing and turning
While most lie still
Has been the nightmare 
That keeps me awake

Sleep is profound
Dreams are irrational
For those with brains
Not submissive to the night

Some say to be awake 
Is the only way to be alive 
In which case I rather be dead
Asleep

Blue drained
     leaving a colorless sky
     sky weary from relentless storm
     storm created from troubled air
     air breathed in by unrest
     unrest caused by chaos
     chaos known as diabetes
Vibrant blues stolen over time
     leaving
     emptiness
     in you
     and me