Posts for June 3, 2019 (page 4)

At 19 I almost married someone who sucked the life right out of me. We were going to have a house with an island in the kitchen where I would host my college graduation party and our babies would play out back. We would hear
the wind blow in through the kitchen window, bringing with it their sing-song
voices, telling stories we will never hear. Then I thought I might just move to Chile. After googling their insulin prices and booking a two-week trip there at the beginning of a crazy summer.  

Just two weeks ago I almost got my dream job. Considered moving to New York City or California. Built a tiny house. Became a designer, dietitian
or moved out west to maintain hiking trails.

But I never did

            (Or haven’t yet).  

So far, my almosts never laugh at me.
Instead they just look back with a sly, silly smile
that almost says Thank Goodness,
but instead chooses not to speak.

I left the bath water running
I’ve let my leg hair grow long—
To my feet
To my toes
I only groom when something’s burning in the oven

No one told this girl about a “right or wrong” way,
only a “wrong way”
to do these things—
To dress up
To make up
To grow up
To buck up
To want more
or less
To grieve
To try

So I’ll mess up clean up mess up
Clean up

Mess up again

Here’s to the
forest children.
The wild ones
who grow up
only to learn you
never really do.
The ones who still
put their feet
in the water and
play in the mud;
who stop to smell
flowers and look
at the moon;
who realize
the fragile tendrils
of our knowledge
are pieces of the
whole, and we
may never fully
uncover it all;
and who know
how time is like
a whisper
disappearing
into the wind,
each moment rare
and beautiful and
worthy of pause.
Here’s to the spirit of
these barefoot and
braveheart souls
leading us back
into the woods.

Motivating action

Pain’s depths

Unbreakable love

Breaking time

Numbing hearts

Forging trails

Phoenixing who I am

How can you deal-
How can you hope-
How can you move-
How can you think-
How can you even breath.
When  it feels like your world,
Is falling apart.
Your reality will is crumbling,
Before your eyes.
How can you live without them.
Without their smile-
Without the glint in their eyes.
How can you hope,
Without their laugh.
Their endless joy-
Their contagious spirit-
How can you move without them.
Their boundless energy.
How can you be anything,
but broken.

sun’s neon disk
unbuttons
day’s sky
pen longs

foghorns
unzip river
from lazy
dawn 

birds
quicken
dot wires
with song

currants
fall into palm
tart jewels
cereal’s crown

goslings
line up
swim-ready
buoys of down

corn
sprouts 
glittering rattling
scarecrow frowns

sun’s gold
quiets
birdsong dims
pen writes on

You approach.

Eyes shining,

Lips smiling,

Talking about how you’ve

missed

me.

And I remember the places

those lips have been.

And what I really want to say

is:

You don’t get to love me anymore.

But I smile

and murmur,

“Good to see you too.”

Before

walking

away.

How good it feels
To be in this moment
With you
As we sit
Side by side
Music humming
Beneath our words

The songs play on
As we inch 
Closer and closer
And my head
Rests against
Your thigh  
And you ask
Me to play
a song
That matters

I put on something slow
As we rest into the notes
Not speaking
Just listening
To words we wish we wrote

“Pill Bug City”
she said with a smile.
Pill Bug City
raised under rock.
Roly-Poly Mayor
presides over here 
Pill Bug City
Terrestrial town
Rocking, rolling,
metal munching
with cousins crayfish,
the crustacean crowd.
Party crashers, 
she and I,
ready to roll regardless.

I dream about walking through my house 
Not my real house , but a double of mine-
After doing some internal adjustments I can tell 
 I’m inside an apartment inside a house.
This place has awful suicide lighting
I’m just a few degrees away from where I was
But the distance is unbridgeable, so it never mattered.