Posts for June 21, 2020

Category
Poem

Wonder

there are days
that I don’t know
why
I try so hard
to get something 
out
pulling from
belly button
leaving a 
deep purple hurt
at the center 
of the chest

but I keep going
unwinding
digging
and confused
as to why 
I’m not going
numb


Category
Poem

untitled

no one told you, did they?
that it was all over
that the fat lady had sung
that there was no post-credits scene

no one showed you, did they?
those signs and wonders
those weekend  forecasts
those unsurprised pundits

no one listened, did they?
these songs you sang
these Bible verses you recited
these warnings of good and evil

no one, but one
that one
was me–
a no one


Category
Poem

milk and sugar

for six years,
you bought the same
milk and sugar–
the organic kind
the doctor recommended
to fight the disease–
you still buy it,
even thought she’s dead

even now,
you still spend five dollars
for a half gallon of milk
and i see it as an ode to her–
an “in memory” of sorts
or maybe it’s a safeguard
so you don’t lose us
like you lost her

our relationship
is tense–both of us
anxious and scared
of the other’s reaction
my memory
of you consists of
strung together moments:

waking up with a cough,
the fireplace roaring from
the living room and i
can hear you moving about
since my coughing woke you
already and you bringing me
a small, clay mug filled
with piping hot black tea
sweetened with clover honey

snacking at a Wendy’s
corner booth with the
sunset clearing away
on the horizon
and you dip your hot
fries into your chocolate
Frosty and i snarl
have you tried it?
and i reluctantly did–
indulging on the salty sweetness

i see you as a mourning
father–every breath
step, and action a
forward motion in grieving
and maybe that’s how we cope?

living our lives,
grieving in tandem
our souls solemnly separate
in a lonely mantra


Category
Poem

Burning Flowers At Pineland

Blossoms in the sun
a magenta monochrome
floral beauties shine

Scorched with sunlights touch
pirouettes upon the wind
roots found on the farm


Category
Poem

Renewal

I remember sitting by mother’s canvas
watching as her hand etched worlds into the void
banishing catastrophe with color,
facing doubt with determination.

She’d play jazz over the stereo
Listen to bold brass
accompanied by brushstrokes.
I wonder whether the flowers she painted
were concealed in the cacophony?

Her easel has borne the weight
of an abandoned child for years now,
wooden arms weary, determined not
to disappoint. Father’s work holds strong.
Perhaps it’s time for the both of us
to nourish our crafts anew.


Category
Poem

The Hydrangeas Name Themselves

when they say, “Stop I’m Blushing –
Let Me Pink About It!”
and barely pause before

Such a Fuschia-n of Colors erupts
from the stalks. They worry
Nothing Rhymes With Lilac 
and need to be comforted, call themeselves
Lavendarling in a bulbous coo,

singing the Sock It To Me Blues.
These Cotton Candy Speech Bubbles
stain the mouth, sweet garden of vowels.


Category
Poem

June 20

The bending, then flash 
—orange day lilies—
the first day of summer
     announced
snapping their fingers
keeping the beat for the universe
who sometimes forgets
humming a tune we can’t hear
a brilliance of fire and flame
reminding us to gather
     together
again and again
and again


Category
Poem

One Mississippi

One Mississippi,

Two Mississippi,

Your fingers slipping

Out of my hand

Your footsteps

Going farther away

I wonder why you built

The wall you did

And what it’s made out of.

Three Mississippi,

Four Mississippi,

Your voices echos in the air

And your memory lives

In photographs

I want only

One Mississippi

To hear you say

My name or hear you say

You won’t leave,

When you run.


Category
Poem

saturn

the heat of your palm against my thigh exposed
purple and blue veins under my translucent skin

maybe that’s what you wanted


Category
Poem

Sharpen

Color me bruise, my
teeth are tired. Old bones,
new meat, sharp steel
equally comfortable in hand.
There is
an itch, a-tingle in the velvet
of antlers stretching up, blood-fed bone
grown only to be shed. We are
trying not to turn teeth to so much grist,
grinding canines to sleek. We are
honing
swirling our nails at the whetstone
and it sounds curiously
like pen-scratch on paper.