Posts for June 21, 2025

Your reentry into my life
via a dream
will always mark this summer solstice
as a day filled with energy
that I did not know 
you had borrowed from me.
You remain half a phantom
that searches find
less than nothing on,
but those feelings 
inside,
outside,
and across every other plane of my heart 
were more real 
than full-fledged loves.
And like the Solstice inspires us
in the blazing months ahead,
I will look for you
in the bright light of your love.

It’s an odd feeling.
Coming into yourself
after being away for so long.
You can remind yourself that you’ve been away longer,
but each day apart feeds into the whirlpool downward spiral.
But what you finally come back
and drive down the roads that only you could know so well
the pieces will fall into place.
The quiet will become loud,
the obedient, rebellious,
the tension finally gone.

the weed’s still
what’s keeping me
still 

this was supposed to be 
a productive day 

but now the sun’s taking 
its gratutious bow 

and i never even felt 
the warmth 

of its light 
i talked myself out of 

going out into this frostbitten
world again

even though it’s summertime 
it can still be colder 

than it is 
all alone 

in here 

I am riding one of those motorized scooters down the sidewalk,

not a moped

but the type kids used to propel forward with their foot,

the kind the middle schoolers use in the park

as we almost run them over

while we are playing Pokemon Go

because they can’t be bothered to pay attention or pedal their scooters themselves.

I have no idea how old I am meant to be because dream logic

(not that I ever remember my age in real life either; it makes it so much easier to appear younger when people ask how old you are).

I am young enough to be delighted by my grandmother’s gift of the scooter

and I am young enough that she is still alive

yet I am old enough to drink in public

(We’ll get there.)

I stop at some bar or club and go inside

(I told you we’d get there)

because I want to buy a T-shirt.

Sadly, they aren’t selling shirts.

(I think the merch counter was closed.)

When I get back outside,

I realize that my brand new scooter

which, being new to scooter ownership,

I had neglected to chain to a bike rack

(Do bars and clubs have bike racks?)

or otherwise secure,

is gone. 

I go back inside.

The stairwell is sweltering this time
Witt the heat going full blast.

Even though there is no crowd waiting to get inside

(this is an inside stairwell

so I have no idea why the crowd was freezing earlier

or how I was in this club earlier in my dream)

I find a bartender and desperately ask,

“Do you know if you have a lost and found?”

She smiles.  “I do. We don’t.”

I wake up shortly after and am very angry about someone stealing the scooter I don’t actually own or want from the club that doesn’t even exist and the rude treatment by the bartender my brain completely made up

(and in that case, why couldn’t it have made up a kind bartender who had just come into an extra scooter and generously offered it to me?)

So how is your day going?

in her black and white dreams
color arrives like an unwanted guest,
the comforting grays of her subterranean life
are opened to the bleat of the visible spectrum,
all her soft muted love affairs
become somehow tawdry and venal,
but in dreams she can feel moonlight
on her skin and lovemaking
under the sheet of darkness
becomes tender and tactile and luscious

in the shaded house of her sleep
red and greens and yellows are dismissed
so she can clearly see   
the choices of her heart
 

There is a photo that exists of four generations of women. 
Me, a tiny tot, legs dangling from the chair,
My mother and her mother and her mother’s mother.
We pop open pea pods to reveal the lovely green gems. 
My bucket is light, the tiny trophies finding themselves
Over and over again into my mouth. 
This year I am growing peas to remind myself that I can, 
To emulate the summers that were spent
A thousand miles away, with the cattle and the peace.
I worry that I may never make it back.
I wonder who is planting the garden. Is there one?
Am I the last girl to be perched at that dining table?
The sun beats down on my crawling vine.
I too want to cling to something, to someone. 
Hold me up, make me drink, split me open. 
I long to be as cozy as the peas in this pod, 
Tucked together as if we’ll never leave.

They say we may be the last generation 

A boy in thick eyeliner and a chunky silver nose ring.
Is that a vape or a TV remote?
Yup, I’ve had that conversation with my best friend.
An ad for Instagram on Instagram?  How Meta.
Dating advice from someone I don’t know.
A man throws a duck into a pool.  Don’t worry, he has wings.
Which Spiderman variant are you?
Price drop on carbon neutral, organic black lace bralettes.  3 for $92.
Which frog are you?
The hot guy from the new Captain America movie in a music video.
Happy Pride from Planned Parenthood.
Grainy German brainrot featuring the Penguins of Madagascar.
Joe Biden drunk on vodka cranberries.
An infographic about public lands and drinking water.
Star Wars Episode 3 high ground karaoke.
Professor Poopypants.

Let me be like beautiful flowers
that burst bold and happy
no matter what troubles surround them
whether rain, fire, or flood.
They are living to shine
even in worst of times.
In death let their petals fall earthward
to join with the soil
maybe reborn in new ways.

Let me be in the end
like a flower of love
in the hearts who remain –
to shine, be a flower of power
no matter what storms
or tumolt they face.