Posts for June 10, 2025

you just scrollin through 
waste of your time 
it’s right in front your face 
don’t look away
from the genocide
can’t vote to choose 
not to bomb kids in Palestine 
just vote on hues 
same old news
just fall in line  
line dem strangers up for slaughter 
in other’s pain i’m caught up 
too sick for a doctor 
prove it to the imposter 
syndrome
shocker to your chakras
block it out  like Thunder Ibaka
against the Rockets
good energy come back tenfold 
eight ball corner pocket of your nostril
chalk up the cue from my kinfolk 
walk up to a new view out the window 
new shoes and some endo 
voodoo doll my sins hold 
with pins like they finna roll 
off some skin we be trippin though
missin the point of what we livin fo’ 

gotta fight the racist system 
gotta sit and listen 
to a voice that’s different 
what kinda example
we been givin to the children?
like thanksgivin
everybody in the kitchen 
all this shit bout cooked 
thought it was bout givin
more than what you took 
leavin it better
than when you first looked

Would it be so bad if everything stopped working, just one day a week?
We would, of course, be a part of that moratorium,
but it would be a planned stoppage,
not like the stranglehold when life startles us.
The world would be forced to do things that did not require people
other than those we carried with us,
and we would make do with where our feet would take us
and where our hungers led us. 
On occasions where we might do this for several days,
we could take an old-fashioned walking holiday,
wandering and bumbling into whatever is along the path,
removing the abscess of waiting that inflates much of our lives
in favor of the adventure that hides behind every hedge.
Every cup of tea would become a jewel 
in the crowns of our lives lived not free of strain
but free of the other sorties we mount
in response to not seeing our own country.

Too much to do
Never enough time
Lists get longer 
Days get shorter 
Long sleepless nights 
Blood, sweat, tears
Fear, pain, anxiety 
Not sure when it ends
No sight where it starts 
But I know we’ll get there 

I’ve exchanged the ability 
to crane my neck and watch 
while the first responders speed by
and my ability to watch the horses graze
for a permanent aux cord and bills.

mix flour and water
to perfect texture
pick a handful,
roll, then
pat, pat, pat 
onto the griddle, flip
brown patinated perfection,
one following another
quick, deft hands,
precise moves,
skill borne from practice,
endless practice.

The path ahead is rocky,
and my calluses are not yet deep.

To take a step
is to bleed,
to stain the stones with a marker–
something all my own to say
“Look at where I’ve come from.”

Two roads diverge,
but everyone knows that
there’s only ever one path
forward.

It is her birthday today,
the white haired blue eyed
baby, who I carried in a 
Snuggli to keep up with her
22 months older sister at our
farmhouse in Washington Co.
All that summer, I got to be home 
with these two busy, hungry 
sweet and cuddly cherubs,
hiking in the woods with one 
on the front and one on the 
back. I was stronger than I knew.
We fed the chickens and the 
goats, picked blackberries in
the brambles behind the shed
and went to playgroups together. 
All the dappled sunny days
and then I had to go back to work. 
My heart and my breasts couldn’t 
wait to get home, to nurse this hungry 
baby whose face was splotchy pink
from crying. The three of us, would 
fall asleep, tangled together, a tired
mommy and two little girls.

6/10/25

no one can tell me 
that I didn’t lose something 
when I lost those voices 
scattered across the world 
spending hours, weeks, and years 
focus on common goals 
crunching numbers and statistics 
believing in our low percentage chances learned 

we learned enough
about one another
enough 
to say I knew them 
and they knew me

then one day we stopped
one by one 

I wonder if they ever think 
about me 
as much as I think about them

I wish I could log on 
one more time
finish a raid
feeling that pixel induced rush 
and tell them I love them

there just names on a list 
that never glow 

suspended
on hold
caught in a kind of jello
in a place I truly want to be
near Chimney Rock with the old crew,
it’s not the place from which I’m banned
but the time I have here
a mere fortnight
to roam the paths of my old haunt
though my eyes are going
i see easily through the ruse,
its ok
Penelope will be here this weekend
carrying her basket
of endless surprises
wanting to tell everything
but not speaking
wanting to hear everything
but not listening

through a gap in the trees
the night lights of a houseboat
appear to ease off 
passing from the past
into the future