driving in sunshine
life is about the ride
leave behind no extra snacks
eat them in the moment
“cain’t use money in dusty stacks”
breezy buzzy cheesy
making the moment sublime
vitamin D hits my knee
sweet summer time
life is about the ride
leave behind no extra snacks
eat them in the moment
“cain’t use money in dusty stacks”
breezy buzzy cheesy
making the moment sublime
vitamin D hits my knee
sweet summer time
There is the place where it is
all locked away.
Can I get it out when I need it?
I will just smile and nod.
Sometimes a fog of other conversations
block the path.
In my head today, it all makes
perfect sense.
tomorrow
or an hour from now
are questionable.
Is this how it started for Pearl?
Those hands could recall the rhythm
of biscuit-making
even when her mind could not.
What rituals will my body hold on to
when my mind betrays itself?
Memories locked in my head
of the days of summer and
biscuit-making.
The familiar smell of books
that I love
Long forgotten like the smiles of
two blonde children
Whom I adored.
he was born
with an axe
for a tongue
just like his daddy
when he grew
to be a man
he splintered women
just like his daddy
he planted his
seed into a
splintered woman
just like his daddy
she bore a son
from her
splintered body
just like his mama
he was born
with an axe
for a tongue
just like his daddy
when he grew to
be a man he splintered
his own tongue
spat it across
the room he
refused to be
just like his daddy
for this dye in my hair,
puffy dark circles and crows feet
by my eyes.
.
This scar on my thin lips,
partial missing tooth,
double chin and saggy neck
might all these
be messing with my confidence.
I’m to hot for this
because I rock
this tight body
behind a bit of belly
with what looks like jelly
above stretch marks and
a C-section cut.
I’m to vain for this
because I rock this
tight dimpled butt cheek,
these hard celluite thighs
on these coke bottle calves.
In the moment his eyes met mine. You know the look,
like we were reincarnated of Cleopatra and Mark Antony,
all those men who squandered fortunes
seeking grace amongst the folds of her skirts.
It was the way his eyes lingered in mine
when I brushed his arm to pass by.
It was slight inhalation of soft smelling soap
and aftershave that made me pause.
It was I time bomb buried in recollection of adolescence,
stomping his foot on stage while he sang to me.
On stage he pretended it wasn’t just me.
But when he stepped down,
the intensity of his gaze hurt,
almost changing my mind about the lateness of the hour
and what was waiting for me at home.
Desperate maneuvers to
scoop up her innocence,
to cup her childhood in my hands
and rub it like frozen earth
over my face,
holy water in desert cave.
I feel its drops on my lips.
I let the melt run down my chin.
If only the moment of her unconditional love
burned forever in my heart and
the power of painted laughter
wrapped around me, wisteria clinging
to a silver poplar.
She slips through my hands
each time I try to contain her,
and spills onto wide plank pine boards
mixing with day old stains.
Unfolding of life reaches for every branch
of every tree
and lustily eclipses even the rafters
of the sky. I can do nothing
but watch her fingers clenched like fiddleheads
waiting to unfurl.
The draining act of making travel plans.
The booking.
The paying.
The decline.
The retries.
The trying to keep a straight face
when you could literally curl up and cry.
The hoping that when you come out the otherside
you will have the trip of a lifetime.
Still haven’t quite figured everything out,
but at least I didn’t give anyone a shout.
There is no freedom till all are free
Bondage for some is bondage for all
Let’s celebrate the date all enslaved got the freedom word
All for one and one for all
It has been written
It has been heard
walls of magic
words, floors thick
with flying carpets
windows of dream
without doors – only
portals to other
times and places,
whole universes
in your hands
nested lifetimes
to live and revisit
all in good time
