Posts for June 2, 2026 (page 16)

Dog-eared journals, neon
rainbow covers,
birthday cards with early

cursive signatures,
yellowed letters fluttering
from the depths

of ratty boxes.
Early life packed off
to new adulthood.

When I find these
scraps years from now,
it will be through wisened

eyes. I want to remember–
as is – the truth
of the moment. No wallowing.

Knowing after the beginning
there are turning points,
maybe even a denouement,

and post-scripts too.
An epilogue– maybe not happy–
but as true as memory can be

(which is not much really.)
Hence the historical
documents, these bits of paper

represent the moment
existed.

First I have a let’s-see
on Etsy,

buy an emu
on Temu

& cameras on
Amazon.

I hire a deejay
on eBay,

go on a bender
swiping on Tinder

& book a lair by the sea
on Airbnb.

After the hubbub
I get pizza on GrubHub,

watch pet tricks
on Netflix

& when my head hits the pillow
I’m still on Zillow.

This summer I am jumping into change with hope
last summer I was dumped into change due to demise
One I chose, one was chosen for me
one is a change of routine, daily tasks, and lifestyle
But last summer a piece of my heart was ripped away suddenly
at the time I did not think I would survive the trauma and grief,
but I leaned on God in a way I had never needed to before
and today I stand, a different person inside, but one who
still believes and leans on God and cherishes the knowlege
that I will see my son again on the other side of heaven

It’s a long ride, very long ride, for the weary with no place to hide.

write the poem
before the moon explodes
scattering
words…lonely…missing 
all…that…light

The lake,
just as I remembered it.
Surrounded
by stones and pine.

The water,
cold, but clear.
Shades of blue and green.
I stand at the edge,
staring across the water.

Breathe in, breathe out
the salty, crisp air.

Eyes close
as the wind pulls my hair.

Waves crash
against the shore.
The mixture
of sun and lake air.

Breathe in, breathe out,
peacefulness. 

The older that I get 
the more I believe
that familiarity
is a luxury.

Like the way I know your words
before they leave your lips.
A fortune-teller’s heart
always predicts

what comes next,
because it has come before.
Nothing new under the sun
only souvenirs to adorn

this life we’ve built
with the hopes that we
might one day revel
in its ordinary.

confounding truth
     the known is comfortable
and yet only because it is familiar
doesn’t familiarity breed…something unpleasant?

risk versus the bird in the hand scenario 
     which road to take, if it even comes to that
chances are the answers are already known
making them less appealing

the places I go
     circular roads, leading me back around
we are who we are, I suppose
change perhaps comes in simply moving forward