rollie pollie on a rock
banjo rhythm bumps
a kitchen door
a broken screen
all the bugs come on in
coffee jiggles
wobbly rocker
the porch
robin’s egg blue
I am near the ocean,
a river, a pond
I am the mist
draped over
a gray stone bridge
I am anywhere everywhere
in the backyard
on the porch
a catbird squawk
garden gloves
a peony and
paint brush
Anacoluthon on 2 Corinthians 11:14
Satan himself masquerades as an angel of light
henny penny, chicken little
sky is falling
someone’s calling
raining cats, dogs and men
and men and men and men
keep on telling keep on yelling
a video clip on today’s news exact same as one
on last weeks news different locations
don’t know about channels who’s lying? the sky is falling
…not surprising, then, if his servants also masquerade as servants of righteousness…
He says he says he says
someone’s putin putin to the world
master puppeteer idiot piece of wood
manipulate you and you and you
watch chapgpt endlessly believe what we see
or not then do, then don’t, then do
who cares what you wear
my pee pad—carcinogen filled
will stop a fire but nothing stops my pee from flowing—
there’s a fix, but it means doing tricks
who wants to work at it just hand out a pill
take for this then another to mask what the 1st manifested
the ocean, filled with currents, winds, storms and clouds
fins on fish like wings on birds but sea’s go down—sky’s up
who says mankind isn’t a bunch of nuts?
Philosophers understand 10 commandments—common-sense rules
written by men not god ideas on how to be and do good
who are the fools?
the buffoons?
the blowhards?
God—reality or concept in the sky heaven up? hell down?
some men—pink some—brown olive skinned yellow toned
few white—many ivory or ecru few black—more shades of gray a clan of blue—true
yet man speaks of each other not as colored
God’s servants or Satan’s servants?
Who dresses like whom?
Is mankind servants to both
or are some too good to be bad?
18 months since the move yet still
I plow irregular rows through the morass of boxes, plastic tubs,
and enormous black trash bags of fabric, notions, and yarn.
Today, time found me the space
to delve through another cardboard box.
Hadn’t I already unearthed all my old poetry?
Carcasses of drafts rise through the sludge of file folders,
boxes of little silver pencil sharpeners, paperclips,
magazine pictures of birddogs for me to render on canvas.
My stash now finds repose
in a file cabinet. The grave
I’d been digging for myself still isn’t deep enough.
me and Mary,
swinging our legs
as we sat on the bench
in front of Sam’s Drugstore,
enjoying our orange popsicles
sticky hands,
looking up at the man
climbing the utility pole,
tools in his belt making a jingle-jangle
sound as he made his way
up
my mommy was inside Sam’s,
talking to the pharmicst in
a hushed voice, my Aunt Margie
at her side–it was she who gave
me and Mary
our popsicles
the sun came out from
behind the grey clouds,
so we licked our popsicles
quickly–
racing the heat,
the climbing man,
the pharmicist
filling a plastic bottle
Mary finished hers first,
wiping her hands on her dress
and smiling over at me,
then, telling me all about
the new doll her mother
was going to get her for her birthday
the scary police man drove past,
in his loud car, smiling at us
from the driver’s seat–
he said something,
I don’t know what, but
Mary dropped her popsicle stick and
ran inside the drugstore
I kept at my popsicle,
juice all over my hand,
the man on the pole
shouting something
into a walkie-talkie
across the street,
I saw the Dargan’s dog,
peeing on a fire hydrant
Today is Juneteenth
Celebrate Freedom
For All
160 Years ago
The enslaved people
Of Galveston, TX
Received the word – June 19, 1865
2 years after
President Lincoln’s proclamation
2 years
They suffered
Not knowing freedom
Words on paper
Mean nothing
Unless they are enforced
160 years later
Are we free
We have the Constitution
Words on paper
Mean nothing
Unless they are upheld
In 1865 they were free
They didn’t know it
In 2025 our freedom is being taken away
We act like we don’t know it
We are one America
We are stronger together
United We Stand, Divided We Fall
Will Americans stand together
Or will they stand separated
Watching
Our country crumble
Into dust
And blow
Away in the wind
After Sappho
Your sibs embrace my gift of song pillows—
I Love You a Bushel & a Peck—
but you are angry, your face a cloud.
Your priorities are clear:
you love pups and planes and space, heroics,
not useless things, with words you can’t read.
As I age, I want my songs to sift into your soft skin,
your head on the pillow as white as my hair.
When you throw the pillow down and stalk away,
I feet myself shrink, ache,
no light dancing in my eyes.
Or yours.
I cannot roll back years, hours, minutes,
only cling to the hope that time will change you,
as it has me.
I will love you dawn to dusk,
bring roses to scent your way until light ends, earth turns,
for you are beautiful and young. You too
will journey forward, finally grip my years.
May my spirit accompany you,
still singing.
1. I put my cardigan on.
I turn off the big light
and ignite the bulbs of three small lamps.
I nod at all the right times.
I carefully position each feature of my face.
I am a pillar of calm.
I let each wave wash over the room.
We don’t know what comes next
I say
but you don’t have to find out alone.
2. My therapist collects me
from the sterile waiting room.
Cross legged on her couch
I ramble about the stressors of my week.
It’s dramatic to complain
when the world has such real problems
We don’t know what comes next
she states with conviction
but you don’t have to find out alone.
3. Client reported increased anxiety, distress,
and emotional overwhelm over current national and global crises:
including political unrest and fears of global conflict.
They expressed feeling helpless and insignificant
for focusing on personal issues
while “the world is on fire.”
Client noted difficulty finding meaning
and direction when faced
with the magnitude of human suffering.
Client expressed internal conflict
between wanting to stay informed
and feeling emotionally flooded
by the constant exposure to distressing news.
Client appeared tearful at times
and spoke with a flat affect.
Client made self-critical statements including:
“I feel stupid even talking about this,”
“I’m complaining about my feelings during active genocide.”
“I’m acting like the world revolves around me.”
Therapist offered attuned connection,
validated client’s emotional experience,
and normalized this reaction
in the context of uncertainty.
Therapist encouraged the use of self-compassion
and offered psychoeducation on how chronic global stress
and collective trauma impacts nervous system regulation.
There is a plan to explore client’s values
and locus of control in future sessions
to support a sense of agency and meaning-making.
Continue to monitor emotional state
and build personal support network.
Client is thoughtful during therapeutic process,
and remains actively engaged in treatment.
Judgement, reality testing, and insight are appropriate.
Thought processes are logical, linear, and goal directed.
Thought content is normal.
The client does not show signs of altered perception,
or disproportionate preoccupation with concerns.
Client currently is at a low risk of harm to self.
Client has minimal risk of threat to others,
with no history of violence.
Client will return for scheduled follow-up visit
in one weeks time, or sooner as needed.
How old were you
when you had to decide between
childhood and survival?
When you put learning and play to the wayside
to take on the roles of caretakers and breadwinners
pursuit of a paycheck
to put food on the table
rather than pursuit of knowledge
to feed your mind
and pursuit of play
to feed your soul?
Did you make it
or was it made for you
by the circumstance of your birth
and every life-long struggle after that?
What must change for you
so instead of working for minimum wage
you could return to the innocence of youth
rather than stay in the anchored monotony
needed to stay alive?
