Learning to live is like learning to ride a bike
Faltering, falling, tears, and plenty of bruises
One is a right of passage in our childhoods
The rest is everything that follows behind it
Adulthood is a balance; no training wheels
But if we’re lucky, there is someone to catch
Us whenever we start to topple instead
Eventually we all learn how to ride
Some of us better than others, admittedly
All of us on a journey, pedaling as hard
As we can.
A back scratch on sunburn boy
lead to the turning of a cold shoulder,
but it was steaming.
Grin again,
we know he will.
Grin again,
we know him well.
You brought me to rumbling,
trembling,
sinking defeat.
Breaking waves off my back,
stinging wreckage,
an old ship sent to war
and not given the honor of burial.
What of me now?
I watch the families,
the children, the sky and sun.
I watch the water ripple the light
giving a halo to the fish, the birds,
maybe this is all there ever was,
this is heaven.
Weather so warm
You don’t even think about grabbing a jacket before you leave the house
Beer so cold, it goes down quick
Stories and laughter
Reminiscing and planning ahead
The drive home is euphoric
Songs you haven’t played in years
Windows down and driving too fast
And this is just the beginning
My beloved outdoors has turned
against me. The cicadas, ticks,
humidity drive me here to read,
this cool dusky place need not
be conditioned by anything
other than the promise
of her occasional presence.
Boxes of geometric scraps
of fabric are stacked along the walls,
remnants from her historical clothing
projects, begun in a time
that has itself become antique.
On the desk is a framed photo
of her a half century ago
dancing with a handsome man:
dress baroque, hair flying with the emotion
and passion of the moment.
Here I feel the concentration of her life.
My reading slows with the realization
that perhaps I’m a visitor here
in my afterlife.
just yesterday
it was suggested
i begin
to make use
of a feelings
wheel
i am a poet
& i am fifty
three
out here not
knowin’ shit
from Shinola.
This poem was created by call and response with my boyfriend and I via talk to text. Each line we changed who would add to the poem….enjoy lol
once upon a time
two kitties were walking into the woods
because they left something behind
from the heist, a bit of goods –
prized pots of tuna fish, a bag of neon mice
and the freshest catnip one could find.
as they ran past the trees they saw wanted signs
And heard barking in the distance,
But they made a pact no kitty left behind.
Once they found the bag of treats
They zigzagged Up the trees
To join their feathered owl friend
and help them get away scotch free
The kitties cheered in celebration
but we’re in dismay, for the feather
friend hoo-ed, shaking the limbs,
the goods, sadly, fell away.
(And then I was gonna say something like a cat burglar’s life never pays…?)
I’m having the hardest time forgiving
The people who threw more weight on
When they saw me drowning
I should have taken more
photos of the moments when we
both laughed until our bodies ached,
when it was enough to feel
the presence of your body in
the same room. Like a reptile
withering in the sun,
the photographer in my brain has
apparently forgotten how to do his job–
how futile it is to remember anything
anymore. I went out today and bought
your favorite wine, saw your eyes
reflecting back from the bottle.
If I pour another glass,
will you join me?
