Posts for June 5, 2023 (page 11)

I want to believe in miracles so
I look at the stems of my orchid
in early morning light, my eyes
not yet adjusted to day, still
bedded and closed. I mean

the pedicels from which each bloom
grows, off the main inflorescence.
And I name the descending colors
of these thin thoughts in my
full and earnest mouth:

forest green
olive green
spring green
yellow green
& cream

It pays to be specific. To record the
stillness. Like a prayer on a roasary.
Each color a bead announcing
the mystery of what pushes forth
despite our best attempts at despair.

trash cans
and that trickster moon
first firefly

lush existence bleak
in deep thickets,
you came alone
to clear your head,
wandered recklessly
instead, wound up
turned around,
disoriented,

seated now,
on steep ground,
nearly defeated in this
dense dark green doldrum,

where winter light
infiltrates only intermittent
flashes, more to distort
than clarify, flickers
like a strobe
spun in slow motion,

what the compass
calls north might as
well be south, southwest,
might as well be east,
in every possible
direction out
a gnarled branch
gobbed with leaf,
cut off stems
grab your pack,
poke your eye,
scrape your neck,
earth muck beneath
a slough to trudge,
mud clings like a lover’s
grudge, bootholds either
stuck in slosh or worse,
slipping off,
a dreary mist
engulfs each
breath.

but this is not your
first time to cry
a hopeless dirge.
soon you’ll have
miles between you
and this dreadful urge.

friend.
curse not this life.
wish not for death.
pause.
you are not lost.
the trail’s ahead.
drink water.
Rest.

Star 

Shrimp boat 

Ocean

And me:

Hanging 

As if 

Some Pendulum

Held us

Ensync 

By unseen force

For now.

It’s not just for
summer,
the tall glass

perspiring, ice cubes
clinking 
against the spoon,

a half moon
of lemon
stradding the rim.

It’s for spring 
& fall
& winter too,

ice in the glass
like snow flurries 
in December,

the sound of pouring 
rhyming
with April showers,

& the tea leaves 
swirling
like foliage

in October,
maple, walnut, oak.  
Read them & weep.   

The deep earthy flavor coats my tounge
As I solemnly stare out the window
Contemplating the mornings
Waiting to wake up

The heat warms me
From head to toe
My eyes open a little more
My head thinks another thought

As soon as it starts
It ends
I think of my health and this high
Then I rinse out my mug and brew another cup

You’ve always liked guys better than girls

Drawn to more than just the crooked smiles

and dirty feet

There was something comforting  about being a boys best friend

something sweet

you knew he meant it

and when that friendship bloomed

and he kissed you under a july moon

You knew he meant it

But one thing always leads to another

And when he was screaming at you

Saying all the things you wish men wouldn’t even think

You

Knew

He

Meant

It

The boys club is thick

And when sides are picked and you’re left alone

The girls come around and pick up the pieces

Brought together by heart break

They wipe your tears and tell you it will be okay

And in that moment

You knew they meant it

breathe the air
it doesn’t need you 

drink from hands that
never allowed the time to think

watch films without light 
and give yourself in to projection 

combine meaningless images and words

write this poem

On the vacant road, the eastern sky on fire,
I listen out the window to the robins and warblers.

To the left, a bruised orange moon
hangs over my shoulder,
clinging to what’s left of the night.

I turn right, point toward the sun,
clear my throat.

without giving up
check with blood- how well you are
take a step toward