Posts for June 24, 2019



my bones are dry hollow
instruments rattling along
the heavy burning dry sand 
that’s covered up the road
to the answer 


Reach, Soar, Wonder.

When the light posts turn off

The town is quiet

The dog is snoring

Only a few cars left driving the streets

You lay, wide awake

Soaring through space like a rocket

Stars all around

The faint sound of music

Playing in the back of your mind

Reaching your hand out,

Trying to grasp the bigger picture,

Like a kid trying to catch a butterfly.


Looking at a window

Flying down a road

Shadows on the horizon

A hand in the wind

Looking up and seeing shapes in the clouds

Your imagination wondering

Like a kid through the woods


Our magic slips through our fingers

Because our hands our too busy

Juggling everything else.

We never pause, to look up

And see if a star is falling.


We often lose our imaginations

As we grow up.

I don’t think it’s on purpose

We get lost

And no longer are we following a

trail through the magic forest,

Or the yellow brick road,

But a black paved one.


They’ll say you’re living in a fantasy,

But maybe,

Just maybe

Your fantasy is a better life than their reality.


Keep reaching kid, keep wondering.

Because that fantasy is within reach of being your reality.


Sick day pt. 2

Sometimes sick days are healthier



I look for you and stare
through many years and miles and tears.

No matter where I am, I see you there,
but the man I see is someone else, not you.

I remember our tumultuous affair
that brought me joy and hope, then tears,

and shrouds of anger, pain, despair,
for the man I knew was never truly you. 



We abandon the things that overwhelm us, don’t we:
the email address with thousands unread
And the things that underwhelm as well:
the persons who speak love, but show indifference at best.



Some moments aren’t meant to be reclaimed 
The stars cut brighter then 
A trick of the light 
Or light interfering with light 
It’s all the same 
Improbable,  deep time. Fully ridiculous .
The sky is black  as an unlit room 
The seventh wave or breaking water 
With bridal eyes and the saddest smile 
You’ll know when you get there 
There’s the seas I’ve stepped in 
And the seas of my imagination. 
I’m happy,  and subdued 
Never as kind as I want to be 
Under the right conditions 
I’m never as cruel as I want to be


What’s Normal?

I keep wanting to start a Facebook group
or sub Reddit
for other people who grew up with
atypical families
or who weren’t taught certain things
or missed out on certain rites of passage.
(My therapist taught me how to shave
without an electric razor
in my 20s.)

Because I keep running into situations
where I wonder
What is normal?
How much is enough to spend on Christmas gifts (maximum)?
How do you make friends after college?
How do you make coffee without a Keurig?
How can you tell if the relationship you’re in is abusive?
Does anyone else grieve their pet harder
than their deceased family members?
Does anyone else have road rage from an accident over a decade ago?
How do people live with physical pain
that may never go away?
Does grief become a huge part of your life
from midlife on
or has it been just a rough few years?

Google and YouTube don’t have all the answers,
can’t reassure the gnawing doubt
in the back of your mind,
can’t soothe the hurting child inside you.
Not like the wisdom of an open-hearted community of other wounded survivors.


going to your house to make tea

i try to maintain tradition
by waking up early in the morning
with dreams still lingering in my mind
as i make myself a small cup of coffee
i seek your scent when i open my closet
i reach for my shrinking cardigan
the one you bought me a few Christmases ago
i press the itchy cloth to my nose
and search for your smell
before returning it to its hanger

i used to think that i knew your house
in the same way that
a mother knows the pained cry of her child
but now it feels like
memories of you are
too distant
to retrieve again

when i park in your gravel driveway
i sit in my car for a moment
watching you weed-whack your front yard
i notice your posture shift
as you wipe sweat from your brow
after you lovingly greet me
you ask me to watch for a wood bee
and to kill it if i see it
when we go inside
you cool yourself with a damp washcloth

you guide my hand as i cut the package of tea
and you marvel at how it’s loose leaf
and question why
i’m holding the scissors
in my non-dominant hand

we sit at your kitchen table
drinking our tea
listening to the ice clink against plastic
i wish i could tell you everything
and maybe one day i will
but for now
i just watch
as you pray
over our lunch

please bless this food
and the time we have here together,


a distant comfort

it’s quiet
the cat yawns 

we traveled together
to my favorite place
just last week
you fell for it too
morning fog, beautiful vistas

you’re off on another adventure
i have to go to work 

no matter how much time
we are given with each other—
i will always miss you
even when you’re only
gone ten minutes

we are under the same moon;
a familiar rain falls on your face

this isn’t the way i imagined
not better; not worse 
it’s just different
makes it more interesting
more comfortable to hold



Suffocating under the blankets of summer
yet the vicious words are blundering
past my skin.

Massacring the conserved warmth
and digging its roots 
to take shelter in my body.