wanna table time
want nothings to pass
want food in the fridge
to speak me
(and not in flat-falling flattery
that doesn’t
even
make it
to the flatware)
into something beautiful
e.g. artful focaccia
or dalgona coffee
that doesn’t taste
like
it took every inch of my spoons to make
I read this morning
about treading water
what to do when you can’t quite swim the length of the pool
figuratively
kind of a
one day at a time
philosophy
which I know
I know, believe me
is what I need to focus on
stop, observe, enjoy the present
or simply function
believing all is well
I am a fan of water analogies
and for whatever reason, I previously considered treading water a negative
as in stuck, floundering
yet could it not be the case?
a break
a time out
a chance to recalibrate
a brief rest before continuing the swim
is right and good and remarkably simple
a reason for joy
She was born with a
twelve foot wing span
-head tipped back
-mouth agog
-firey twinkle in her eyes
two years four months
sit down-stop jumping
first feather drops off
little bites for little girls
clump of fourteen unravels
don’t talk back
left wing begins to curl
cross your legs-sit up straight
three long slender quills
smile smile smile
right wing withers
you’re too emotional
last filoplumes vanish
roots sprout
twelve foot deep
Summer pushes spring aside
I will close my eyes,
swing my fists
Until the solstice’s last light
retreats beyond the horizon
I crawled back in my mother’s womb
warm and sweet she sang me to sleep,
she wrapped me softly whispered bloom
my dear, you have no need to weep.
I crawled back in my mother’s womb
safe and small her little lamb, I
sensed the calling of the tomb.
My dear, I see the light and I…
I crawled back in my mother’s womb
to go with her I know not where
with glee and ecstasy I came.
My dear, you see you see it too.
I’ve taught you all you need to know
I go…now go.
Temperance
Idle Hands
Got Me
LIVID
Intruding Thoughts Telling
Half Truths
Fears
And
.
.
.
.
.
Over Obnoxious Words
Empty my mouth
In front of
Johnny
Worried
too often
LOST
Laughable Now
Opportunity Knocks
Each
Instance
Each
INSTANT
I choose
To
Be
Present
Handshakes
Smiles
Laughs
“You Want a Snack?”
“Safe Journey”
“Great working with you.”
“Likewise”
A flurry of Emotion
Gone in Seconds
Depart
Take
A
Part
The Day
Each Moment
Sitting with Katie Bug
Been 2 Months
Escaped 2020
“How you been”
Turns
Intimate
Get to the Good Stuff
The
Real
Stuff
“Hows Your Soul Twisting?”
Temperance
One Foot
In the Water
One Foot
On the Earth
Rainbow’s A Full Circle
What Does that Tell Ya?
My Feet Are Wet
Holding a hand for the last time,
your fingers linger on a wrinkle,
a lifeline you’ll never touch again,
and you tell yourself that maybe memory
is enough, just enough, if it lasts.
Perhaps it will last, but it won’t be enough.
Tomorrow, oh, and years from now
it won’t be this still warm palm,
this hand that took your trembling hand
and held it, all that night, till morning.
Yes hi good morning
No I don’t need anything fancy
He speaks in brown recluse venom,
every word fanged and dripping
with a heightened sense of self-importance,
jaded by a world that never seems
to see and agree with his vision
’cause he never takes the time to question
how another person might receive him.
He harbors every disrespect and insult
in a place that’s deep within him,
where vengeance and unforgiveness
create an atmosphere of hate.
He gives it nowhere healthy to go
and so it starts to decompose,
hollowing his humanity.
Inescapable below him,
it was only a matter of time
before the lesions of necrosis
began to pock my skin.
All his negative energy
siphons out my compassion
and I begin to die within.
My kindness has become rotted,
exhausted with a consumerist world
seeking only to take from others.
My bones will be picked clean,
unsupported, despite my cries
because nobody seems to find the problem.
The recluse knows how to hide.
Still, I wonder about this dead-souled man
and how he might have come to be.
Was he once just like me and caught
in a place of oppressive darkness,
reaching for the light of another
who only closed their eyes?
Will I soon be full necrotic?
It seems I contend with what could be
glimmers of my possible future
if I don’t take time now to guard my heart.
Beneficial fear invites me to a decision
to always strive for the positive spin,
but unfortunately for my spiteful foe,
he’s already lost and too far gone.
