Posts for June 2, 2025 (page 3)

she holds her face
raw against the faucet
water. cold and bright

then stinging on sun
burnt cheeks. “exfoliating
isn’t for the weak” she yells

from her bubbly mouth.
he laughs at her state of
being – bent over, bra

half-strapped, hazel 
eyes tightly clenched
hair strands caught 

in between the rub
of her long fingers

she is so perfect,
he thinks,
it’s a shame she cannot see it.  

Day one let;s begin 
      Fresh Start
Taking chances she never thought
     Making Friends 
Going outside her comfort zone
     Building Dreams
Lost in thoughts of a different time
    Letting Go

Arrivederci, 
La mia Italia;
mi manchi tanto.

I think this may

Have been the biggest breath

Of fresh air

My lungs have ever taken.

The times I’ve spent

Puckered up, snarling to the ‘what ifs’

Should be ridiculed.

I think this may

Have been

The biggest

Breath of fresh air

My lungs have ever taken.

This time spent

Speechless,

And flat on the ground

Just basking in it.

Thirty poems is
chill, when you’re in love. All I’ve
got is this haiku. 

I see it near the trail’s fencerow.
Bright white lying against the lush greens of sumac and honeysuckle.
The white leather Nike looks brand new.

Bulky dad sole, ugly enough for a privileged tween to launch
unwanted into the scrub. Not in this poor county.
The shoe glares like a flare, bone white.

It’s too clean to have been left by floodwater.
Dropped here from a tornado?
Mud scoured by wind?

Bibles, wallets, photos,
tufts of pink insulation
found for a hundred miles.

It’s weird, wrong.
I stop walking.
But, I don’t move closer.

I can’t allow my eyes to look for a foot in the shoe, an ankle jutting out,
a body camouflaged in the Johnsongrass anymore than my mind can bear that
we created the horrors that strew pieces of us in fields and deserts all over this world.

The dog would know.
She’d alert me.
She’s confused at my stillness.

Wrens and robins drown a distant siren.
Above me, a confetti of barn swallows swoop and flit.
The dog knows the path; I let her lead me away.

5 minutes ago it was sunny

30 minutes ago I was forcing my way through a pizza

1 hour ago I was unclenching the steering

Wheel

2 hours ago I was shivering by lake Como, struggling for breath

favorite ice plunge

3 hours ago we righted a flipped side by side, thankfully no injuries

4 hours ago I was again struggling for breath atop the mountain range

But right now it is raining and I desperately miss my old Kentucky home.

There is a note
In my phone
And it just says
Try
And I feel like
I need to say
To my past self
I will

I went to the DMV today.

And I bet, upon reading that sentence,
you told yourself a whole damn story about going to the DMV. 

See, you don’t need no stinkin’ poem from me.