Posts for June 15, 2020 (page 5)

I too have spent years

looking for the roots             of what went wrong

trying to comprehend early and targic death

seeking to make amends

desperate for peace

My face might appear unscarred

but my heart reveals a very different truth

I cherish your vision of the savage plow of history      creating a seedbed for a green and growing season to come

This hope is my new found prayer

This poem was inspired by Parker J. Palmers poem “Harrowing” in his book On The Brink of Everything   via writing prompt from Leslie Dodd. 

sometimes I feel so damn good 
that I am near supernova
could die right then at that moment and
whatever animates me could explode into a thousand million particles of light and energy
and dissipate across the earth
merging with every person animal tree flower
fusing with my lover’s energy at last
o my soul

Do you ever think of the music you gave me?
Of the lyrics that sank into my skin
Of the beats that sounded like your heart
Do you remember the words we gave each other?

Because I do with a bittersweetness
I wish I could have loved you like those songs

Mom loves to hear the South Pole phone calls.

That’s where Dad makes sure all the proper
pieces will fit together, working from Dove Valley, now more
precisely his home in a suburb south of Denver.

I had a world map with pins in it for all the pen pals I had
as a teenager. I miss that reverence for geography, the
tranquility of letters exchanged. My palm over paper.

One pin in New York state. I didn’t dream
up someone who would have spent a life there
and fall in love with me as much as you, didn’t know what
I wanted from anyone, even myself, or from the idea of love.

I knew places I wanted to travel to. Some were pinned. Some
I might only call.
Back in my bedroom with the yellow painted walls, I didn’t know
anyone then or now reaching out to me from
the South Pole yet sometimes it could almost be you are that far away.

Aromatic bliss slinks
up my nose as I delicately
sip, the first touch on my tongue

bursts dead tastebuds wide open
These awakened peasants
dance and shout a lively
hallelujah

a resounding ruckus
announcing regal employ
doing significant work
reviving more than flavor 

jolting human stalemate
into conscious zest
magical alertness
a fancy how-do-you-do

the goal and allure
of strong black coffee
snipping strings of a puppet
the gift of a running start

Java friend,
you are nectar of life
a dilly of delight

Do your thing
so I can do mine
come what may

Trilogy Two  
Reflections of Poe                            

She walked the ridges                                    
              without me…                        
sang songs of the night                                    
               alone.                        
Only the moon                        
bright and full                                    
              saw her.                          

Her bare feet                                    
               tiptoed                         
long mossy rocks                        
as she hummed with the wind.                          

Below her                                    
              still water                                    
              deep and cold                        
lay waiting.                        
No frothing tides                                    
              called her                        

no crashing waves                                    
              drew her                        
only the quiet of the night                        
and the glow of the moon.                          

I, in my sleep                                    
              … dreamed                        
dreamed of warm days                        
in the salty current                        
of a faraway shore                          

And, when morning came                        
a blanket of snow                        
covered the hills.  

Tony Sexton

If you’re going to a protest, 
          Can you believe these riots?
Be safe. Bring water. 
          They better stay away from my neighborhood.
Write a contact number on your body – 
          I’m armed. I’m not afraid. 
In sharpie. 
          My husband’s a good cop.
Listen to the black voices, amplify them, 
          He’s getting threats.
Take their lead, don’t get violent. 
          It’s time to start stacking bodies. 
Stop killing us. I can’t breathe. 
          They’re just doing this to get rid of Trump. 
Vote for anyone but Trump. 
          When the looting starts, the shooting starts. 
Stop killing us. I can’t breathe.  
          Unfriend me if you disagree. 
Unfriend me if you disagree. 

Loose lips can be treated with cosmetic surgery.
Measure twice, cut–wait, better measure three times.
No pain, fine with me.
When the going gets tough, better call Saul.
Love means never having to say, “It’s not you, it’s me.”
People who live in glass houses need to stock up on Windex.
If it ain’t broke, you probably haven’t used it enough.
Too many cooks make a good reality show.
Hope for the best, but be ready to blame someone else if it doesn’t work out.

this is
such a
strange world.
where the line 
that you draw
is the
same shade of
blue
as the 
blood
you want
in your veins.
and while 
you hold it,
you hold us-
until we’re
screaming
and start turning
blue
in the face.

Driving alone across the frozen state
a purity in the cold silence
thoughts of intimacy arise
warm skin against skin
a neck up close to lick.
I think of her body and I tell myself
don’t go back–don’t put her through that
again.