Who am I— without you?
If I’m not
a quiet pulse
beneath your chaos;
a steady moon
that tugs your tides.
Who am I— without you?
As if I’m the
roots holding the earth firm
without rise in a tree;
brush strokes on a canvas
missing the acrylic paint.
Who am I—
since we are not mirrors,
but the wild stars in the same sky.
Without you?
I spin,
unanchored in the dark.
I had a therapist, years ago, years
before I learned what it would mean
to say it,
I said, “I can’t sleep; because I’m sure
I’ll die and he said,
“You’re not going to die.” yet
I am a thorn in the left cheek of positive
analysis and I said to him,
“Everyone dies, Bryan.”
And you know what?
A stone archway beckons me forward
As I stand in the entryway, the light from the noon sun crashing into me
Blinded by it, I close my eyes.
A familiar voice soothes me as I absorb the warmth from above
‘I wait for you up ahead’
It was somewhere I longed to be but had never been.
I was eager to prove myself. I was eager to show my feathers, to strut and be my true animal.
I opened my eyes, and although dazed by the light, I took a few steps toward the voice.
I could make out a shadowed figure, standing straight and tall but I couldn’t see their face.
I could feel her before I could make her out,
Feel her heat, raw and passionate,
Feel her heart, beating with a drive that could change the world
I clutched her hand, and I felt a calmness in the winds of my mind.
Inside, instead of swirling in the chaos, my ship was righted, and the seas were fair,
The day light faded as the dark grew long,
My boat rising and falling with the tide,
never capsizing, always true in heading.
I look out toward a new horizon, clear and hopeful
As the curtain falls….
My daughter’s nursery
was in an apartment.
The room no larger than a closet.
One bedroom with an office.
“Daughters are flowers forever in bloom”
was the quote I framed above her crib.
She was the marvel
We stared at from above.
Each smile and sound
brought sunshine to our world.
She helped us forget
the mostly empty refrigerator
and late bills we tried to ignore.
I slid them secretly into kitchen drawers.
She is 16 now
and questions everything about herself.
She wasn’t there to see
the marvel in the crib
bringing light into our world.
But I still see the flower
blossoming there
in the office nursery.
perhaps all you need from me tonight is
i love you
i’m sorry
i’m listening
i’m here
what else is there, worthy,
but bearing witness
i’ve talked too much already
i’d rather you paint the sky with all your colors
create the air around us both
me
offering
soft shoulders
canvas
bare feet
you
becoming and becoming and becoming
seems like each song heard has this line
that tracks with your moment
in the world-time of experience
think about it,
cruising along at 70 (or 80) miles an hour
and suddenly certain radio-blasted
words slap across your brain face
making perfect sense
and you think, I’ll remember that
make it the title of a poem
or something, then
at home later it’s all
what was that again?
Feel the boardwalk beneath your feet
There’s no wood there
Just bloody concrete and the skin from knuckles
Scraped into the shape of America.
We would’ve grown old there
if you hadn’t been you and I hadn’t been me.
How many stubbed toes of how many children
could have healed there?
When that girl starts multiplying
And the characters have your face
I will weep for days
Let me mourn your children I never wanted to have
I hope you dream about our full but empty life
Where we grew separately together.
I would have loved you.
But it could never be enough
I would have been happy to smell your pillow
each morning and sing you to sleep each night.
The colors of Jade, Pink, and Lavender
lacy scarfs, shawls, and fans
the soft touch of velvet and silk
the sound of fog horns
love notes any time
baby’s giggles and smiles
deep red velvety roses
the kiss of soft breeze
welcoming smiles
fluffy clouds on baby blue sky
tender kisses and hugs
fancy butterflies having their meal
an old love song that touches my heart.
So much beauty to name
so much to savor
in these days of political pain.
When you’re up,
they wanna be up in your face.
But when you’re down,
they’re nowhere to be found.
Pay attention to the intentions, you’ve gotta peep.
As cliche as it is,
Be careful of the company you keep.
The swim move, for the tall.
The rip, for the low-to-the-ground.
The bull rush, for the strong.
He chose the nerve cluster,
snaking his hands underneath
shoulder pads and
digging his fingers
into their armpit.
The pain made you flinch.
I know because I lined up across from him
at practice. By hitting my nerves,
he could steer me away from the ball.
Who wants to cause pain to a teammate?
I wasn’t going to ask
for him to stop. Wimping out
would’ve got me made fun of
and there was no way
I was losing to this bully.
I expected it from him every time.
And by the end of the season,
he wasn’t pushing me around anymore.
He dug and he dug, but I dug in
and pushed him backwards
into the backfield. Again and again.
Not every time, but enough to gain
the coach’s attention.
He only caused me pain.
I took his pride.
