Posts for June 21, 2021

god;

i had such good things to say about this situation

before i got this drunk,

but then,

so did they.

i was going to say,

it’s so fucking clear

that she has the same

ocd

as her mom.

as she looks around for the source of that sound,

brings it up again and again,

begging for a source-

hell,

i can’t hear even it,

because i forgot my hearing aids on this trip-

but she needs to desperately to hear from somehow else

that that sound isn’t

coming from inside the house.

right?

that’s coming from the street?

okay,

thank you.

and maybe i’ll write something

more intelligent about this

tomorrow

but he is a 50

or maybe 60-something black man

that made excuses for white people,

and later explained

how angry he’s been

and maybe how he’s tired of being angry

and he gushes with me

about how shitty capitalism is

because it is

and then he turns in early for the night.

and me too,

buddy,

and me, too.

my mom told me never get married i don’t think i will
but i didn’t need her to tell me that’s how i feel
i hold chardonnay in my mouth before i swallow didn’t realize how much i was sipping
 i drink white wine now
filtered water in the ice tray filtered water in the bottle
there’s tiny cuts on my fingers from work my phone is yellow my sweatshirt is yellow my hair is yellow

sores in my mouth
from toothpaste i just chew on and make worse
pasta sauce is still in my bed but my hands are squeaky clean
don’t think i’ll ever see age of aquarius in my life time

Rain pouring, thunder booming
With a brief respite of silence
The pelting rain returns, 
Enveloping my house,
with echoes of the pounding water
Eventually, it slows again and I peek outside
I smile as I see two ducks waddling down the street
Nature seems to enjoy the cleansing rain,
I can see the children next door peeking out
Perhaps hoping for a break in the rain
So they can expend their energies outside, 
But alas, the showers return

it wasn’t a good feeling
to be present in the middle
of something that they were
finished with well before
too tired and done
with whatever had started
out there in the dark 
and with whatever I had
breaking in me

so I did the best thing
turned the sign back around
closed the door
and turned off the lights
cause there’s not enough energy
for the weakness

the summer began
and ended
in a single day

What good is it to celebrate
the Sun without the warmth
of its rays

to want to re-connect with nature
without the color
green

to imagine a soul journey
without forgiveness from 
the past

to chart a new beginning
without the sound of 
anyone you love

what good are longer days
if spent shackled inside
the mind

what good are shorter nights
when all you have is
time?

As I weave the colored rows
I imagine each one as another layer
of what makes us so unique.

Every piece fits together,
not always perfectly,
but somehow.

Even the mistakes 
and misplaced colors,
the knotted sections,
have their own importance.

They weren’t intended to be there,
but without them
the bracelet wouldn’t exist.

And as soon as all the string 
has been braided by careful hands,
it can be tied off,
in order to hold all these stories
on my wrist.

Penetrating
analysis
mother
energy
loving
Appalachian

Anger
new
now

Catches
and
makes
powerful
blue
exquisite
liberated
letters

i feel myself panic so i run outside
bathe in the thunder and lick the rain
tie half my hair up so it soaks all the way
collect yellow leaves from my front yard
and dance manically in the rough driveway
the rain feels like kisses
when cars pass by i giggle like a child
run to the porch and hide like a coon
i like feeling crazy
my bare feet on the concrete don’t get dirty
gliding on a layer of heaven’s glaze
my white shirt saturates and turns translucent
the feeling goes away for those forty minutes

We listened to Gabriel Heatter for the war news,
he had a booming voice, I can still hear him.

“More than half a million women holding down war jobs!”
We kept the window shades pulled all the way down
so they wouldn’t bomb us, hone in on the little twinkle-
we were tucked in to the holler, the world so far away.

His voice brought it home, but it seemed we were always winning –
We were not prepared when they came back, broken and quiet.
I found out much later what PTSD was-self-medication,
taking a violent turn, despair, locked-in agony.

All I could do was duck and cover, keep my kids safe,
maintain a watchful eye, and get out when I could.

I was too young to serve in that far-away conflict,
but I labored in the home trenches for years.

Running into an old friend

Someone that you weren’t always close with

But you always clicked,

Can sit for hours on end

Talking about the world, their lives,

Their problems, their dreams

It’s knowing when to change the subject

Because tears are building in their eyes

It’s knowing when to make a joke

Because they’re desperate for a smile

It’s having no urge to make an excuse

To end the conversation.

Even though you probably won’t see them for awhile

Maybe only talk once or twice

But knowing you can run into each other

And write a whole story

In one night

Ending it with a warming hug

And a thank you

For distracting them from their problems

Or for just listening when they can’t even speak the words

For standing in the rain just to talk