Posts for June 5, 2026 (page 13)

                        Mist
                   rising through
                 the hollers at dawn,
               where whip-poor-wills sing
             and coal seams sleep beneath
           ridges worn smooth by ancient time.
         Rhododendron blooms along creek banks,
       while winding roads follow the mountain's curve.
     Generations have called these mountains their home,
   working, praying, singing, and weathering hard seasons.
 Stories drift like woodsmoke through the evening valleys,
 carried from porch to porch beneath the glow of the moon.

            The Appalachians endure,
              older than memory,
                steadfast and proud,
                  holding the faith,
                    the grit,
                      the beauty,
                        of the people
                          who belong
                            to them.

Hollered up the stairs
Do you want the last kombucha?
No – I reply, you can have it
I’m gonna leave half for you!

You left nearly the whole dang thing
I poured out a little
Returned the bottle
Closed the refrigerator

We do this dance gracefully
Until I’m splitting a tiny piece of dessert
You laugh
This is absurdity

To be loved is to be considered
I know you’ll be tickled
So take the last bite, please
I’ll see you at home for dinner

looking through your boxes
you paused when i came in

who is to say what was said
when truth is what we hated

            “There is no fear in love; but perfect love
              casteth out fear; because fear hath torment.
              He that feareth is not made perfect in love.”
”

                                                                   — 1 John 4:18-19a  

It has been said that courage is not lack of fear, but rather
seeing the reason for fear, recognizing the necessity for action,
and then choosing one must face it
anyway.

             I say to you:   I am not arguing against such a thought
            but I am claiming there will come a day when trust
            is made complete—and when trust is made complete,
            Fear will stand like a beggar on your doorstep,
            bones visible through sallow flesh of its body,
            and you will be too busy to answer the door.

Even so, Lord, that day is not today.
Today, I do feel fear.  Today I trust,
and I speak that trust, I claim that
trust, but Fear sits fat on the couch
of my chest, Styrofoam and cellophane
accoutrement of cast-off, fast food
receptacles making a wasteland
of my spiritual living space,

his legs stretched out in geometric rays
from his bloated backside to the tips
of his swollen feet, taking up the surface
of the coffee table.  He snores—his apneic
reverberations trembling the inner cavities
of my torso, my mind, my heart.

             I type and the words won’t come
because there is no room for anything else
when I see the evidence piling up in his
detritus, rotting, stinking, showing me
the life I so believed in breaking
apart, falling to the ground, shattering
around me.

That day will come, but it is not today
so I pray and I confess my state
and I pray for today, pray for it to be
today, pray for his eviction from today,
pray for today not to linger,

forever
a day
away.

Frances seeks a reception with me.
She’d like to discuss my soul,
waves me under the fairytale spruce where her
great guardian cerebus whimpers but
she will not let him devour me,
not even a nibble for the left head.
No, I’m special, attractive even.
Normally, the oracle tells women coyly that
she likes their shoes but
my dimples have earned me “attractive.”
She points and smiles.
I am essential to the development.
It was a beautiful prayer she heard about my soul.
I do not need all these material things, silly, silly.
I will do greatest things for the community.
That Jeep across the street, she doesn’t care for.
I agree (with all).
Did you know I am very special?
Well, who am I to argue with magic?
My soul is in good hands up there I hope.
We have the same G-d after all,
her Catholic G-d slightly less argumentative than my Old Testament.
“Are you talking to the old Catholic lady down the street, Jewish G-d?”
I ask on the way home from the spruce.
Behind me, a gurgle.
Water bubbling up from the asphalt.
I look for someone who could have thrown it, a drain overflowing.
But there isn’t one.
A small miracle, courtesy of the Oracle of Avon Avenue.
Next week I will bring her a bracelet.
She likes the beads.

I found you
after almost half a century on this planet.
Last night realizing (thanks to geotagged photos)
we were once both looking at the same October sky
all I can think
is that our skyward gazes
were stitched together in the stars
until we finally conjoined
like long orbiting outer planets.
Time has been reworked:
another fifty years is both
a cosmic blink
and all the possibility in the universe

6/5/26

in pristine garden,
weathered statues draped with moss
lead me through my heart’s maze
as peace arrives in waves
and sunlight shoves gales towards me,
lone receiver on the porch made believer
in divinity of aesthetic blossom axioms.

Climb down, slither perhaps
Coax yourself into the midnight yearning
For some kind of picture of what love was meant for
Once upon a time they gave to us now they take us all away
We scream, we scream, we shriek our battle cry
Till we impale their final soldier
And cook him on open fire
Shave your armpits, shave your crotch and draw your eyebrows on
Get lost in the cheese caves and give up on your childhood
Fuck the king of war and peace he doesn’t realize
Michelangelo died for his sins on the pyre
And the dinosaur king was inside
The cheese caves when I went down there
Chocolate Frodo Baggins, killed his brothers wives
He got lost in the cheese caves
That’s where he paid the price

Toeing the line between too ripe and rotten

Dandelions sprout through tar covered concrete

I feel it in my chest

Ivy crawling up white wooden posts

Mucus caught in my throat

Along with a jumble of words

I’m supposed to sit in the feeling

But it’s far too potent

Yet I let it rest in my mouth

Under my tongue

Between my teeth

Harsh, but sweet

Like cinnamon

Keeping the peace

Instead of waging a war on myself

But oh god, I wish I had the courage to do it

Let nature overcome me