Posts for June 23, 2022 (page 2)


nature is the ultimate escape

I wanna be where the wind blows calmly

Through the mountains and trees

Where the sunsets take their time

The people talk kindly and

The spring water is fresh


The roads feels like forever

But they’re the most expensive

Art you’ll ever witness

The mountains seems to speak

And the creek soothes my heart


collide with joy

announcing the way, clearing a path
bright, despite the obstacles
all that stands in between
I block my own forward movement, at times
standing in the way of myself
leaning out, not in
willing myself to not be happy
as if a sign of weakness
it’s coming together though
a theme, mounts on the horizon and bursts into song
     joy is not a sin nor is it a detriment
how could I not accept such news
this thought, this outlandishly beautiful proposal
I am so often afraid
the closer I dance towards it, the harder I will fall if I fail
what a cycle, what a paradox
what a lie
a mere silly contradiction
I am free, after all
accept, I whisper to myself alone
collide with joy and reap it like some fantastical harvest
embrace, cling, before it’s too late


Binge and Purge

That night,

Your eyes fed mine

As if they were starving.


I feel silly writing words about you,

When you wrote the blueprint

Of the cinder blocks that

Built a wall around me.


And though they protected me

As a feast of an earthquake

Destroyed everything in our path,

You were the one

To make me a complete mess.



Waking to a black and white cat purring
in harmony with chirping
birds.  Hearing
an old favorite on the radio while lounging
near the edge of a shimmering
pool.  A cheerful hello from a fondly remembered friend.  Finding
a mushroom in the grass, ripe for stomping.
An indigo bunting 
nestled in a blooming
bush, a splatter of vibrancy on a gloomy gray morning.

Unexpected smiles hidden in the crevices of the ordinary,
the liquor of life,


Rambling on about love existing as an anodyne to something incurable

There’s a name
on the tip of my tongue
and it’s just out of reach
from sound. Never fully formed
and it’s been there from my first breath, 
at the very least from my youngest memory
I hear the sound of sobs.
A childhood self, such a small adult wailing
into a pillow. Something blocked at the throat–
I could never name it
I can’t name it now
this emptiness that is always there
this alcove in my chest
it was always there
if it existed before you
and it exists after you,
what’s the point?
It’s just the same. 
It’s all the same.
How can I say I loved?
Or was loved?
Or was in love?
Nothing more than a placeholder–
gauze packed into the wound
of a deficient vessel,
but you were never part of that vessel, 
just an anodyne.
I’ll never find that which was once there.
I’ve never known it.


37 1/2 Weeks and Everything Hurts

If one more person asks me how I’m feeling,
I might just drop this baby at their feet.
Especially in this 90 degree June heat
with my ankles the size of pontoons
floating me down the river to motherhood.
Untie my tethers, unclamp the mainstay,
let the sails loose to luff
as I drift into the dull-drums
without any movement of air,
They seem to go on
until the waters break
and all the storm’s fury
is let loose.



I worry too much
about my heart rate,
my kids’ lunches,
and the laundry

about the gardens
and the weather,
the chickens and
if I’ve fed the dog

about supply chain
issues and elections
and covid and guns
about fires I can’t control.

I worry too much.

I try to sit them all
down sometimes,
scatter them like seeds
out in the field or forest

where I walk,
resting my tired brain,
renewing my hopes,
and then I pick them

back up one by one
on my way home
examining each
with fresh eyes.


I don’t want to sing this song today.

I don’t want to sing this song today.


I’m not in the mood to hold the refrain or the train of
This thought that facts and figures it out 
what it means to be
The me that I was with You.

Because it isn’t just the You that I am missing.
It is the Them.
The Plural You and i in motion through a
World so big and full of both
Vipers and oaths
Those perfect promises we thought were enough to charm asps, and
For a time

It was 
There was a Them In singularity, 
i as a definition that always refers
To the entry defined as You. My him. 

And now. Through those last horrible
rasps. I don’t want

Another chorus 

I can’t bear another verse.



Hold me back in time
Two and a half years passed
In the glow of a videotape
Knifing through the line
The moon breaks skin
And voices bend like waves
Your eyes are greener
Than before you shot it up
A sanitized head burns
Poems into your arms
Our hands bleed kindred
Mellow, draining words
From the a kid’s watercolors
We were art kids we were
Sadistic little voyeurs
I want your philosophical
Nightmares and your doctor’s
Words of wisdom, I have
The paper balled back
Into the art drawer, verses
Pulled slack in the schoolyard
Ghosting all the teachers and
Locking your jaw shut
Anna come home, you left
A painting in my shut eyes
Two outgrown children
In the woods in the deer hunt 
Silences intertwined with
The click of a paint gun
Bouncing off your cheek
Make it art for someone


I ate it all, I hate it all, but if you call, I love you all.

Yesterday I did good eating well.
Today, however, it all went to hell.
I met a friend, we went and played some golf.
And toward the end my sugar level dropped.

We went inside and I ordered my food.
The pretty barmaid smiled and wasn’t rude.
They brought a burger bigger than my head.
I ate it all with fries and now I’m dead.

They gave us some free wings for us to taste.
Because of mamaw, I just couldn’t waste.
We swallered them and told em they were great.
And once again there was an empty plate.

Ten thousand steps.
That’s like 5 miles.
I’ll head out to the sidewalk in a while.
Tomorrow comes.
Hope I do better.
And I’m hoping there is slightly cooler weather.

That roller coaster there, well that’s my weight.
I try pretty damn hard to change my fate. 
I will not change my course due to the wind.
But I’ll spin in circles for a damn good friend.