Posts for June 4, 2026 (page 15)

I fill the smart birdfeeder
It empties within hours  

Cardinals ruffle their feathers
tilt their heads, glare at the camera
beady eyes knowing I am watching  

Where’s the food?  

I fill the smart birdfeeder
 baffled against squirrels  
                                               sorting through
seed scattered on the ground
pigeons kicked from the platform
with four-toed galoshes  

Chipmunks dart between the squirrels
to find a place                          
                           nervous feast
fear and greed oscillate
in their micro-quivers                            

I fill the smart birdfeeder
It empties within hours  

Where’s the food?  

Grackle swat teams zoom like drones
across the yard  
                              They know where I live  

I feel these creatures feeling me
awaiting my appearance
as if I’m Taylor Swift

A superior once reprimanded me for not saying good morning 
Before I started asking questions 
A social nicety I haven’t forgotten since 
He was so pissed 

I often say outloud 
Talking to no one but myself 
Solitary home office 
That doesn’t make any sense 

Little does when you’re wired different 
But ended up in a suit 
With a title 
Should’ve been a muse, an artist 

But I live in America 
And really need health insurance 

Baseball Finger
Bowler’s Thumb
Boxer’s Fracture
Runner’s Knee
Tennis Elbow…

and yet you still
expect me to exercise?

Fight cage on the White House lawn 

breezes
come and go
remember dwellers
past and future

Clouds hovering over like the dark of night
with raging storms and powerful thunder.
The violent lightning striking and killing
in this unknown realm.  Will we ever again
see a rainbow with the sun shining upon us.

Santiago wasn’t to be touched

                 so            his life might be in
danger.

Ever put your life in another man’s
hands, ask him to put his life in
yours?

                                           Follow
       or           die.

                                         the truth:

sometimes men

        live in a world that has
walls. And those walls have to be
guarded,

              a              responsibility
      you can              fathom. You weep
for Santiago

                   and

         deep down, in places you don’t talk
about,               you want
             you need

a man                                         under the
blanket,

                      goddamn right.

But you fucked          the wrong

                             boy,

you hear me?

(An erasure of a speech near the end of the screenplay for “A Few Good Men” by Aaron Sorkin. You can read the original text at https://imsdb.com/scripts/A-Few-Good-Men.html.)

Grouchy with over-fertile spring
and the breakdown of both machines
I lament the Age of the American Lawn

What is this collective obsession 
with postcard front-yards?

Let dandelions flourish, let old men
laze about reading and yawning to the end,

let the range of nature be not in single blades
but in whole fields of wildest green.

Bring in goats or wild horses from the steppes,
let feral pigs snout up the roots of fescue,

for despite what’s printed on some courthouse deed
this weedy land will never be my rightful claim

Descriptive language,
exaggerated adjectives,
all come up short
for the emotions I feel.

Putting pen to paper
isn’t working,
it is not enough
to try and explain
my feelings.

After all this time,
brewing quietly,
and settling beneath my ribs,
becoming part of me.

Perhaps
distance and time
will give me a new perspective.
Distance and time
can shift
a point of view.

So I return
to the lake,
surrounded
by stone and pine.
The water,
cold but clear,
blue and green.

For a moment,
the chaos quiets.
For a moment,
I can almost believe
healing will be simple.
That time and distance are enough.

But the lake
cannot carry the grief for me.
The wind
cannot scatter it.
The waves
cannot wash it away.

They soften the ache,
but they do not erase it.

Because even now,
when the water is calm
and the sky is clear,
I find myself thinking of you.

Distance and time
may offer perspective,
but they will not diminish
my feelings toward you.

Nothing can do that.
Not the years between us.
Not the miles.

Not even the version of myself
that rose,
like a phoenix,
from the ashes
and learned how to live
without you.

Camomile Tea and a Book

On the rare occasion when one realizes they have nothing to do
grab a favorite tea and a book, the type of both are up to you

Camomile and anything cozy, both bring such me delight
A comfy spot, a nice warm throw and a calming candle to light

I close my eyes and smell my tea the scent so fragrant and sweet
I take the first sip, feel the warmth of the mug and in that book I am ready to retreat

I am immediately swept away to a place where there are books on every shelf
It doesn take long before I realize its a magical bookstore owned by an elf

I meet so many new friends and we must find an old ancient flower
The adventure exciting and we realize when we are working together, there lies our power

We make it back safely and the adventure was great
some found love. others themselves and its starting to get late

Its time for goodbyes but we will  meet again soon
I have the second book and nothing to do again tomorrow around noon.