Posts for June 10, 2022 (page 5)

forgive me if I’m off
it’s been a few days
meaning it’s been quite a few days
meaning the past few days have been a lot
now that’s out of the way (my meandering words)
     I am bobbing in the deep end, head above water
          head above water
     thinking all these thoughts
     whispering prayers
          trying to yield to the sublime but how does one
everything is ajar, a door left open
literally, in that I will soon have two doors for a short period
     then back to one, albeit new and interesting and good
     (good is such an optimal word)
sometimes life spins, as a fan hammered into the ceiling
     reminding me the roof might just assume flight
     leaving me exposed
forgive me if I’m off

charcoal clouds drape over the skies
like a hand quilted blanket
God parts the curtain, 
the heavens begin to weep
Papaw always said 
I’ve never been to a funeral where it didn’t rain.

Eyes chattered over smoke

The first night we met

Stumbling into the apartment

Still drunk from the drinks before

Ignore the beers foaming around

The empty spaced chair in

My head and the smell of dog piss

And in the morning laughing at

The dents left in our foreheads

You and reckless, young transitions

A car door opening in the middle

Of a crowded orange tinted room

She yells out after, don’t go

He howls over the road

Marry me and stay

Be here and we will never

Have to drive drunk alone again

Miles around the grasp of

Fingers around sun and moon

And after the party

It’s me and you

Brightening spot,
she knew so quick, and
smiled with each easy knowledge:
Now sits too close to see well,
and cries at color monsters in the night.  

Made mad poet,
he spent his days searching
for the last turnable phrase of worth,
and found it,
and smiled,
and died in that sleep.

My coasts are folding in on me.
A ring of unfamiliar seas & we
Don’t know where we’re waking up
In cities far from home.  

Change is a comin’ she sings.
This rosey life is but a dream we wing
Over the Embarcadero of Manhattan
While all the songs we play contain a loop.  

We’re vaccinated for another world.
Broken-hipped & unfurled.
The streets are mean with mercy amid
Pockets of a humid heat.  

Chalk white outline in Union Square.
A “Shouting Circle” like we care.
This posey darkly desperate marks the
Spot until I turn on you.  

Wall St. Station merrily after midnight.
Wall St. Station merrily after midnight.
Wall St. Station merrily after midnight.
Wall St. Station merrily after midnight.  

Jump or fall. Jump or fail.
The flashlight ashens on the rail.
Where are you? & excuse me miss,
Where are you headed?  

Fulton, further after midnight.
Mind the gap if it minds you right.
Reminds you of that sick metallic smell
We’re fighting gently on the stream.  

Fearless-fed and bound to float,
We row again a faulty boat
& feel the furthest in our hearts
When we all fall down.  

And, we all fall down.  

Did my mother realize she had died—when she died? I mean, was she cognizant of the fact that my sister would wake me–Doug, it’s time. It’s happening. We have to go.

Did she know that my sister and I would miss her death by minutes because I had to take a shit before leaving?

Was she aware of the fact that she died five days after Valentines?

My stepfather sat, in his recliner, staring at her lifeless body on the hospital bed in their living room. She was the love of my life. I might as well stick a gun in my mouth. What’s the point now?

Did she know I loved her?

My knees supported me while leaving indentations in the carpet, as I silently told her how fucking awesome she was, that I loved her, and that I’m happy her pain is over.

She just lied there,
staring up, up at the ceiling
while I held her hand.  

Did she hear me pray? Did she hear me at all? I hope so.

Because I didn’t pray to Jesus.
I didn’t pray to Allah
or Odin or Yahweh.

I prayed to my mother— 
The First and only God  
I ever knew.

even the honored dead
are still dead
and the dead forget
everything

remembering
is the business of the living
in every era
insufficient to our own humanity

honoring honor
and glorifying glory
will not settle
debts we can never repay

if we sing
the awful truth of sacrifice
grief and horror
may awaken those better angels

(from Jeff MacGregor, “Flesh, Blood, and Bronze,” Smithsonian, June 2022, pp. 38, 40, 41)

I like to imagine I had told You sooner
and more 
and not just in that last summer
to buy the Castle Greyskull 
the GI Joe guys, the Thor 
comics from the author You adored
the one who liked Your instagram post that once because

You were so talented. Everyone saw it.

I like to imagine that You knew how much Your giggle
Delighted 
The universe

That it wasn’t just me who saw how special Your joy was.

I like to imagine that it’s only me who is  now withheld from it.

That the stars and earth and your brothers and your mom
—and our perfect, precious son—
can Still hear You laughing
can Still seek Your counsel
can Still make sure Your heart is full.

{Programmer},

would you,
if you could see and manipulate something in software A,
but could not in software B,
even though software B claimed to offer this feature,
call this a bug?

(I stopped after just one sentence)

I sit with Self, collecting soul seeds scattered hither and thither, 
I’ve out grown my turf
Choked like a root bound, clamped down, regurgitating clown, about to drown 

Still same waters no wind in my sails  
stagnate water ripples an insatiable chant 
I, me, mine   I, me, mine   I, me, mine 

Screams bubble up to cut free
Unwrap the ankle chains
Untie the strangling cords choking a tired heart
Liven the warped state of dependent numb belonging

Push farther away from the gene-in-cest-pool
Clear icy waters warm a numbed body and soul

Take time to listen to prayers telling me I am a healer, one of Our Lady’s beloved roses

I wish I belonged to my own soul
Able to see visions beyond deceit and deception
to realize putting up with will never give me a seat at THE table

I was the daughter the sister to two who calculated to win

I got dirty as I sought the prize of belonging
I lugged the chains got used to the shackles ~ my duty
I couldn’t hug the freedom and steal my do aura away from the selfish savage assaults 

Now I live in the land of universal handshake
A place where we touch palm-to-palm, heart-to-heart
We’re all blood relatives, sisters, brothers, Ohana
We look into warm eyes feel our deep connection

Pain is not host on me
No longer need the armor of family’s obligatory shield

I’m open on a playing field of friendly inclusion
A soothing sojourn away from exclusion
A side of me inside I now embrace