I’ve never heard church bells ring like that.
Such a melodic tune.
Almost, a symphony.
I’ve never heard that melody.
As the breeze up high
shoved my angry body
the sound from the bells washed over me.
I looked down at the ground below
as a tear fell down my cheek.
And these bells
sent a surge of relief
through my anxious
and tired body.
All bad things in my mind
were killed off by flashes of hope
brought on by the chimes.
And I stepped away from the ledge.
Mechanical bearing
Connecting two solid objects
Barrel
Butterfly
Concealed
Piano
Spring
Used to control access
since ancient times
Pin
Knuckle
End play
Gauge
Pitch
Reducing or eliminating
bending stresses
in spring
the whippoorwill preached
unrelentingly
in the tree outside our bedroom window
a series of sermons on finding a mate,
keeping us from sleep,
compelling us nightly to relish
our fortune in finding each other
again and again
i cleaned my room today
the floor barren of any hint that i was there
the calendar finally new and bare
the bed up made all nice and neat (despite the english bull terrier lying on the sheets)
i am dreaming about this new summer
the adventures i can finally bring myself to speak
the friends i can finally drive across town to see
the books i’ve put off so long to read
i have become dizzy with reminiscent feelings
the summers that i spent in the heat
the music to my ears of a constant, consistent beat
the taste of that cotton candy ice cream i get to eat next week
i have become fond of this season now
the warm, baking sun of the day
the plastic chairs, constantly in a state of disarray
the loving friends that i don’t see in may
summer is a new gift
one that i disliked before
one that i was always sure wasn’t the one i adored
one that i now can hold onto forevermore
I’m ok that you didn’t remember
You were preoccupied
That I reminded you
Twenty-two years had passed
The days into nights into
more days
of passing through morning meals
Struggles to remember
what is necessary to discuss
in the same room.
It’s where we’ve landed
Right now, we’re both planted
rain or sun
dew soaked grass
Silent Sundays
The only acknowledgment
to it being odd is
this poem.
It’s ok that we’re
fine with it.
A relief really.
The marigold is fed and he smiles for the flowers
The house shows truth
The ringing in his ears packs its things and runs away
His day shall better
It is one of those days marked on calendars
Venus is everything and blueberries
Maybe this man is colorblind
Maybe life never took his imagination
People tell half truths
Always in speculation of the earth’s passions
The surrounding schemes are never spherical
The turned cheek lies
and time still flies?
I’m booking flights now, for summer journeys,
Patronizing hotels, and restaurants.
Going bare-faced in the grocery store.
Taking vaccinated parents, in their eighties,
To wave outdoors at their older siblings,
Who won’t get their shots as they ought to do.
It’s almost as if I have forgotten
How scared I was last year, of getting sick,
Racking up huge medical bills, dying,
Or being unable to recover.
Of my traveling days being over.
Of catching my death from the U.S. mail.
But here are ways I’ve changed for good:
I’ll never shake a stranger’s hand again.
Eat cake with candles someone has blown out.
Let my pantry shelves grow bare, leave my house
Without a supply of disinfectants,
Or fail to bolt if someone stands too close.
TV above the deli counter
in the Middle Eastern grocery.
My first glimpse of the change
of regime. I pump my fist
in a victory salute. The immigrant
owners follow suit. Smiles
all around, visible even beneath
our masks. We share stories,
these stangers and I
of multiple outrages over four years,
anguish at what had happened
to our country. And now we long
for champagne bottle to pop,
confetti to fling in the air.
the rooms here are unreal. without rhyme.
mostly mental. here, a pixeled prometheus.
there, little black samo. </bask. key. yacht.>
one closed browser and BEGONE.
the electrical made unlucent,
but i am never lost / im a boss glitch.
my fractal fact: not all who ponder yonder it.
