I focus on a constellation
of magnolia blossoms first
opening – they’ll close up
overnight, repeat this show
only once or twice. Beyond
the viewfinder, green to white
buds mix with massive blooms
in diverse shades and phases
of permanent wide-openness:
creamy petals turning brown,
catching fallen stamens – all
on a palette of broad evergreen
leaves. A time lapse flowering
panoply – dawn to disintegration.
The moist, crisp snap like a pickle spear
no bug bites, nearly string-less
broken into bite-sized cylinders
cooked with strips of thick bacon
and hunks of potatoes just like
my grandma used to make
Fresh garden green beans simmered
to perfection snap me
back to a simpler time
sitting on the front porch by her side
breaking beans to can
preserving nourishment for a future
time–expiration date
limitless
seeds planted
words written and spoken alike
to her great-greats
lasting bites
don’t ask me what you need to do
don’t expect me to feel anything when you cry
don’t ask me for hugs
don’t look to me for approval
don’t ask me why it’s happening
don’t say a word to me
i’ve heard your story before
And how is it that
even on days such as those –
with pouring rain for hours,
seperating us with a curtain of water –
that the sun and the light find a way in?
Is all joy found alongside small sacrifices –
of time, of other –
or can we, too, build structures that last?
Brown cardboard boxes contain:
• neat beige bandages
I procrastinate and plan, have trouble doing.
Watching Alien and body horror:
• the expanding
• the burst
The promises:
• space, abundance
Stray too much off-path,
game over. The makers want
their story, not yours.
I no longer take
half breaths
say
half words
get
half-dressed
I wake up
make coffee
water plants
write
I enjoy the silence of
large
empty
rooms
open windows
children playing
beneath artificial rainbows
There is no sun
just thick layers of lavender clouds
Periodically,
the AC kicks on
and the hum from my laptop
demands I take notice
of the machine that wonders
why it’s the only one working
so goddamn hard
Home, amongst the stars
seals slept on white-sand beaches
as spiral arms spun
A night sky portrait
above Cadillacs grey cliffs
while white pines swayed her
Echo lake called forth
illustrious galaxies
to shine in our eyes
See? I told ya
but you weren’t listening
cept my friend Jim
and I’m not sure he likes me
Three o’clock and I’m just now gathering
my dirty laundry together in a basket,
literally the only thing that needs doing today
yet half the day has already slipped by
and I barely have my contacts in.
Of course, after gathering the laundry,
I then have to collect the quarters.
I have to carry the awkward basket to the car,
to the laundromat, through an hour of waiting,
then back home to fold and put away the clothes.
And while the basket is heavy, uncomfortable to carry,
so are all those unanswered text messages
swimming around in my brain, the most of which
could be answered at the laundromat or in the hours before
when laying in unmotivated restlessness in bed.
But that requires talking to people, and I don’t want
to open the door to the rigmarole
of pretending I’m okay while no one is listening.
Those same friends always share social media posts saying
days like this are perfectly fine, so what’s another month?
Nothing changes, but not from a lack of desire to improve.
It just feels like nothing I do makes a difference,
it’s hard to keep moving when no one’s walking beside you,
It gets tougher to try when the problems always come back
to reclaim the progress that was made yesterday.
Yet still I choose to put on that happy face and smile
for the people like me living out days in this state
and for the man still living under my mountainous misfortune.
Someday I’ll find the art and the meaning to dig him out
but as for today, I really just want some clean clothes.
