Posts for June 18, 2019 (page 3)

I write a lot of poems
while I am fast asleep.

I wake in the middle
of the night and transcribe 

them on my phone,
impressed by their sheer

brilliance. When I wake in
the morning I remember

that I wrote an awesome
poem, but somehow, they

never seem to hold up
in the light of day. They

aren’t much more than
mindless babbling that

makes no sense at all.
I need to figure out how

to read them after I have
fallen back asleep so that

I can use a decoder
ring to unlock their

meaning. Then I can
figure out how to drag

them from the dark into
the light so everyone else

can see all these great poems
I keep talking about.

For days
and maybe months,

you open stuff up
and think,
“Why did I bring
this along?
I don’t need this
anymore.”

And then you either:
set it in a corner or cabinet,
disregarded – it’s your stuff,
after all –
or
finally
toss it out –

another metaphor for therapy.

i set yours this morning—18 days
in the future, 4 pm, last appointment

you could be worse, but you won’t know
that. all you know is that you’ve been
better, much better, but still have a little
pep in your step. i won’t take that from you

i don’t wonder whether you’d sunbathe
for hours on the rug next to sliding glass
doors, watching sparrows peck, hop
around in your new back yard; about
the family and friends who’ve already
seen you for the last time; or whether
it’s too early, unnatural, humane—right

i wonder how god felt when they scheduled
my appointment; if they thought you could
be worse, but you won’t know that; whether
they took pity, showed mercy, planned
to leave me with a little pep in my step; if they
promised i won’t take that from you

is a galaxy,
among its many
constellations  
are those named
Restless,
Overwhelmed,
Furious Mental Activity 
and Physical Exhaustion.
Shining brightest
are the twins: 
Paralysis and 
Not Today.

Writing for fun
Sometimes a pain

Gotta do it
gotta do it

Guess it’s done.

I went to the grocery to get ice-cream 

specifically 

wildberry lavender mascarpone

and bought two cartons. 

Ran into a friend in the parking lot

who I’d not seen in ages. 

My bag gaped open.

But I did not share. 

Well the truth to our fate
was only a question
’cause the subject at hand
was a question to ask

the only unknown
was when he would pop it
and how long it’d take
’til I heard your answer

I tried to deny
the destiny coming
when eternity rained
its bliss down on you

the only unknown
was if it survived
I had to have hope
that he’d somehow fall short

but following France
it was all but a given
you don’t go on such trips
without binding your souls

the only unknown
is when it will happen
the day you get sealed
to the rest of your life

I’m wishing you well
from the shadows of mem’ries
the one time that I
could believe in us

the only unknown
is what if I tried
to pour out my heart
when I held your eye

but I kept it inside
failed in our moment
now made forever
following France.

Shades of green and gray
deep in that kudzu-covered mind of mine
I can feel the ancient ones,
wending through lobes layered thick with vine and time.

I can sense them, poring over each tender blade of grass,

each glimmer of june beetle

each hope I hold loosely in my grasp

close.

eyes tired but never quite failing.

lips worn soft from long-familiar prayers

whisper wow

“I’ve never seen one quite like you before.”

Sea embellished this rock            
             knobby     sharp
worn into a thousand prickly cups
filled with foam     sand     brine
bone  

Tall dark grass invades            
              no strategy     no scouts
just an inherent understanding
of weak spots
and a flexibility
born of eons  

There in a small tidal pool            
             still    wildflower-shaped     warm
lie starfish of an orange
so bright
sun bends his knee
to hear their pulsing
secret.

Instilling love and kindness
in the hearts of my children
in the face of a cruel and
brutal world; teaching them
the importance of nature by
allowing time and freedom
to interact with it fully on
their own terms; growing
my own food and believing
in the power of seeds and
natural cycles; living my best
life in every way I know how
by practicing beliefs instead
of preaching them, and basing
my life on knowing that the
small differences I make
matter to someone.
This is how I survive.
Take what you want
and leave the rest.