Posts for June 18, 2023 (page 3)

The coffee table featured an array of magazines:
Life, Look, McCall’s, Redbook, Saturday Evening Post.
A decorative ash tray shared the space,
and there was a cigarette lighter that never worked.
Not that I tried it.  

The TV Guide had a special place on the end table by Dad’s big chair.
He chose the programs; I didn’t mind.
He liked funny shows and westerns.
He was careful about The Twilight Zone.
(I got scared by things like Martians.)  

In the closet I kept comic books in a cardboard box
next to the carpet sweeper.
I spread them out and pressed the pictures into Silly Putty.
I distorted them.  

I had to be very careful with orange drink and snacks
because my mom worked so hard keeping the den clean for us.
I needed to remember that  
always  
we had fun in the den.

Cold cutting blade made from steel
It’s made to tear the skin.

Didn’t you know
That your whole life rests
On the cold edge
Of a sharpened knife?

We live in one time, but think in another.
We put flowers down, beside the one cut stone.
My father called
outside, calling all night long, in his voice,
Are you there?
The feeling in the breeze, inside the trees, we were feeling
what you call
                a thing is seldom what it is.
This song and no other. Listen.
A whippoorwill, years distant
                                                    through the paneless glass
the last night of his mortal darkness.
                                                    It falls, as through blue breeze
of sea-wind-
warmed currents, loose galaxy,
the cool layers, the sifted light
and fell as stardust into his sleeping mouth
where he lay down and breathed
                                                        no more.
Good night, night bird—far off—through the high pines—
If it were so simple as getting up again.
This life and no other …

The new year brought the fog.
Magical and concealing,
it rolled across the hills
and dipped into the valleys.
It lingered on the roadways,
greeting travellers,
offering a blanket to those
who were unafraid
of going sightless
into the future.

Nine months ago,
I packed up the life that I knew,
And traded it in for something new.

It’s taken me all of eight months
To realize I made the best decision.

There’s no going back
To running from everything.
Or wondering how long or how far
I can make it before coming to town again.

Because I have found a new home
Where the strum of the crickets,
And the chorus of the cattle
Keep the night alive around here.

This places surrounds me with
Healthy love,
Healthy friendships,
Healthy habits.

And I feel more comfortable
Than I ever have.

After the woman at the bathhouse
told me about the 20-foot-long snake
that might block my path
on the way to Ogle Lake,
I decided that I’m not that crazy
about hiking and I don’t really care
about seeing a body of water
that might be checking me out,
up and down, to see if I might
want to drown, and is guarded
by a 20-foot-long snake
and we won’t even talk about
what’s going on with that.

so ADD online
looking out the first window
distracted by bird talk
then the fourth window
actually outside
vireos bringing arguments
to all the lined up friends
on wires of transmission
knowing the certainty
of being voted down
no arguments for air water
nor getting passage
through the golden glue,
the world’s speech defect
easily translated 
by the merlin app
who who who
picks out barn owl
over the irristible bulldozer 

Primrose petals spring open to mark night’s beginning at our toil’s end.

#americansentence

wakes up every morning at the same time. She doesn’t
even have to set her alarm.  You can count on her like
that. She is always early to work. Exercises regularly,
even makes good food choices. Yep, she’s a devout 
water drinker. She spends her days helping others have
a good day. She tells decent jokes, dances frequently, is quick
to lend a hand. Dependable. Yes, you could say, Depression
is definitely dependable. Her house is tidy. She cares for the
yard, walks her dogs, even does her laundry weekly. She makes
it a point to check on friends regularly. Well, yes there are a few 
things she’s let slip over the past few years. Crying, laughing, 
anger, joy, feeling sad, you know, just the typical things. But she
does get her recommended eight hours each night. Says her prayers. 
Recites her gratitude list. All in all, Depression makes it all work  
the best she can. She’s dependable, like that.  

Plates and silverware clack and clang
the children push and pull the doorbell string until it rang

Baked bread burns– forgotten in the oven
once again, she’s too distracted and never learns

Conversation buzzes across the table
Voices rise and fall with laughter 
and silence follows food-stuffed mouths,
with stories breaking through as soon as we’re able

To share this gift of family today
celebrating fathers I’m grateful have after years I chased away