Posts for June 13, 2024 (page 11)

I swallow a piece of rough crust bread
it sticks in the straits of my chest
blocked maybe by the whale 
in my belly’s deep seas.
The bellowing beast’s song 
sends gazelles running
to the hills of my knees.
A bear charges down
my shins’ snowy slopes
down to the crocodiles of my feet
plodding through the grass.

The bread wears down to a stone
and passes to churning waves.
The whale was there before I was born.
Bats perch on the wires of my nerves.
Watch and you may see them
fly out from this cave
in the front of my face.

the times I delve deep
which I rarely, anymore, do
when I accept the world as it starkly is
     as opposed to the filtered falseness
I realize I am in a decent place
perfection is a sort of myth
those who say they are in a grandiose spot
well, perhaps they stretch the truth or are what’s labeled as lucky
I’m fortunate though which is most likely a better scenario
I see a tiny bit of light even in January
and celebrate today, because haha, it’s June!
brightness abounds
flowers bloom, fade then others appear
sure, there’s lack, but acceptance introduces joy

Hummer at feeder
Casts shadow on sunbeamed floor
Momentarily

Opioid addicts

our gold, reveal our future

unless we respond 

When I am not watered, you thirst as well

When I am hungry, your stomach rumbles the same

I know I am my own, but I cannot help but believe I am here for you

I will think to care for myself, but only so that I can care for you

I must find my meaning, my worth in what I can do for you

Because who am I, if not for others

Because who am I, if not for you

a poetess of some internet infamy and measure once said she thought my best prose was my correspondence with you

upon arrival they ring a brass gong
to honor the island dragon who will
protect them in their new life

Forest floor, veiled in leaves. Sunlight struggles through, dappled and dim. Below, a hidden network, silent and vast. Threads of fungus weave unseen, a secret language of the earth.

Mist breezes over Badin Pond.
On tiptoe at pier’s end I long
to join today’s wisps,
knowing each morning

new plumes ascend, as if
to their workday; their
labor a walk on water
a transformation of matter.

Wake at 4 a.m. to watch
teardrops dribble down hotel windowpanes,
blur, opaque lights of the city asleep.  

Buckets tumble steadily from the sky.
Now and then, a hair of lightning snickers.
Thunder rumbles a low,dark melody.  

Zeus is the boss of me.     

                  #  
Rain is forecast 90%
every day
all the time
until the moment
we step on the plane for home.  

There’s meaning in everything.
There must be meaning in this.