Election 2024
America stands
at a crossroad,
centuries of hope
and promise
in democracy
at stake.
Will we remain
committed
to the promise
of egalitarianism,
or morph blindly
toward totalitarianism?
America stands
at a crossroad,
centuries of hope
and promise
in democracy
at stake.
Will we remain
committed
to the promise
of egalitarianism,
or morph blindly
toward totalitarianism?
a nice change of pace snuggled in nook
in historic downtown lex inn,
but un-nature-ble night sounds
remind–i prefer where
nature dwells, owls hoot,
chirps soothe. where lives
rural peace–
suits me
best.
I walk out into the waves,
feeling the tug on my thighs,
and let the sea embrace me
like an old lover. I’m going back
on my word. I feel myself
slipping and I want to keep
walking with seashells weighing
down my pockets like the writers
of old. Is this how Woolf felt?
I don’t know if I want the answer.
Dear God,
Thank you for today.
Thanks for all the boulders you’ve put in my way.
For the dirty path,
And baptismal bath,
And the nails in the cross to save me.
Thank you God for the red lettered good Words,
And the tears when you touch my heart with a prayer heard.
For the stars and moon,
And songs about you,
And the love in my heart to save me.
This faith thing is a hard thing.
Step into the mist without vision.
Trust in your Grace,
And in Love and the path,
And hold true to this life’s mission.
Thank you God for my babies and pups.
And for the love of my life who says “you are enough”.
For valleys and hills,
Lighted vision and testing trials,
And pardon of Grace to save me.
I don’t know what tomorrow holds,
If I’ll be up or down.
Some days I don’t know the girl in the mirror,
But when I get on my knees I see you clearer,
In your Goodness I find what I’m looking for.
Thank you God for the ties that tether.
For family apart or together.
For forgiveness and mercy and blue skies and the sun rise,
And light in the dark and promise
Of Heaven to save me.
This faith thing is a hard thing.
Step into the mist without vision.
Trust in your grace,
And in love and the path
And hold true to this life’s mission.
The moon
as it hung above us
was not actually full.
Rather,
it was a day shy;
no one could be blamed
if they were fooled.
I stared at it
as we deconstructed signs,
reasons to love you.
Your invitations
common interests
and that one sweet dreams, Phil.
What was I supposed to do?
What am I supposed to do next
when the pursuit of friendship
can so easily look like so much more?
Can I fault another
for my own leap in logic?
Can I fairly claim it was you
who confused your own form?
But as the moon shows more
you and I see each other more;
a lesson in clear communication.
Innocent mistakes of human desire
don’t have to be an ending.
We’ll just do better in the future,
removing blame from the equation.
My mother always said, “Keep the home-
fires burning,” a turn of phrase tossed
over her shoulder as she walked out the door,
to remind us—my brothers and sisters and I—
to take care of the house in her absence.
Those were the days when we were contained
within the same red brick walls. Back then,
I plotted how to burn it all down, even
though brick is notoriously impervious
to flame. Still, I did my best incendiary act—
a one-act play with multiple improvisations.
The Meryl Streep of the family, the actress
willing to take on the most challenging roles.
Tragic child, an A-student unjustly ignored
by her parents, accident-prone pratfall child
who earned more stitches than the AIDS quilt, hyper-
polite shy one struck dumb before the 1+1
math equation in front of the first-grade class, earning
a slap across the face by an eraser-wielding nun.
You get the idea. Gradually, I graduated to major
parts: creating a body double in my bed with stuffed
animals to sneak out of the house at night, “Sailing
the Seven Seas” of risky Seagrams whiskey shots
with the guys, crashing my mother’s Valiant
into a barn on the shoulder of the back road
to Green Lakes. Sure, I lost things—my spleen,
a lobe of my liver, my self-respect. But I showed
my mother. How I let the home fires smolder
into coals and moved out of state as soon
as I was able. All these years later, amends made,
all I want is to return home, be with my mother
and my brothers and sisters. Reignite
the flames with a blast from some bellows.
Every night as I am falling to sleep
you will never catch me counting sheep
I close my eyes breathing in and then out
in with the positive and out with the doubt
I think of at least one thing that brought a smile to my face
and the messy parts I extend myself some much needed grace
