Posts for June 6, 2026 (page 11)

You’re not like a dog on a leash
      constantly checking
your phone.  A message from

that special one?  You’re a little
       more open, available 
to yourself and others.  You’re

free to make other plans on a whim
       without considering
how it will affect the beloved.  And aren’t

you just a little freer to be your true self?
      Air a little deeper
in the lungs, tension in the shoulders

released a hair, no tightness in the belly
        no held breath.
You’ve been given a Get out of Jail Card

There was a time we did celebrate
Before they set out to eradicate
us

Take a look
         at me and you
Are we not seen as people too

         we are lovable
         we are incredible
They dismiss us as invisible

Her? She barely had enough sense to get out of the rain, at least…
that’s what her cousin said. 

This morning…
Someone next door is cutting down my favorite brush.
Each spring, I watch forsythia volunteer its blooms
despite the tangle of weeds that lie as if
the dirt itself needed concealing. But I understand…
I understand the importance of pruning to
make room for new growth. Still, I am sorry that the gang 
of neighborhood rabbits has lost a swell vacation home.
Can you imagine a better place to shelter
between sunny days
than a cave of seeded softness with
built-in peepholes and branches for swinging?
I cannot.  

mmm-hmmm, them blackbirds sit on those lines, not doing a damn thing…
‘cept sqwaking while they poop on cars, he thought. 

Shock and awe
diarrhea of spewing word salad
overwhelms my reactions to respond
speechless and dumbstruck
No longer able to respond to every paper cut against my philosophies
Am I sensitive to a fault?

I look at houses on Zillow sometimes when avoidance wins out
at the trendy, mega, dated, curated grandness
Grandma treasures
And houses in poverty
Analyzing personality types from the staged and un-staged photos
Empty homes bedazzled via Walmart and amazon
Color and material choices speak volumes of facts that may be untrue
Houses filled with knick-knacks wanting to convey something
And then
Realizing somehow my treasured items may not make the cut of the antique shop

The way I looked at Autotrader magazines back in the day
Was like a teenage boy at a teenage girl
Not really leering
Thinking
the right car
Or job
Or house
Or something would be the next expected goal

Empty houses
Empty hearts
Empty heads
The shock and awe has become disappointment
Disappointment in expectations being too great and realizations too recent

Every day, some moment when the ceiling
hangs too low, and walls
rush in at the speed of thought,
quick and dark, pressing at my ribs.

Every day, an instinctive
gasp as my feet find the door,
the sky, the endless expanse,
thick with kin.

Every day, I walk
in wild enclosure, fortressing arms
of cedar and oak.
I am an ant

within their towering green,
an insect caught
in every web. God, I hope
I’m never released.

the wife counts men as merchants count coins
all the way to five

she says his name so often
he can’t but split apart

for what is a clerk
but a reader who strayed too long among the books?

and what is a husband
but an apprentice to trouble?

a coin stays itself
passing from hand to hand

a name gathers interest

until one
becomes several
and several
become
one

i wish i could paint a memory for you the way it plays

round and round, vivid within my mind- 

it is something of wondrous beauty 

i am untalented with a brush, and subpar in my wording 

On this sunny Saturday,
my mind is contemplating
the vastness of Grace
and the love of my God,
who gives it entirely and
generously

                                                       from a neon sign over the bar
                                                       at Jimmy Can’t Dance in Louisville

Giving me the c’mon
in soft neon
the bourbon and scotch
sitting on glass shelves below
as the pianist plays 
a ditty by Sonny Rollins
I share a poem
on my phone
of a friend
a writer
my sanity defender
on deadlines past
& the pianist segues
into Chick Corea

What animal
would he be
An owl
a gazelle
a terrier
all three
Don’t know 
We just toast
Michael with clinks
of our glasses
though he is already gone
listening to jazz
in some dark bar
of his own
alone  

The medic came with his scripts—one for The Tempest,
One for Dangerous Drug Interactions, which he could cite
On command—and in varied degrees of slurred lips
And wobbly syllables—and gelcaps full
Of seasonal lobotomies.  

The pastor came with his time cards—rather,
His running-out-of-time cards for sermons
On the end of days—flash cards, business cards,
Fortune cookies with “made in heaven”
Printed inside.  

The teacher came with his head in a box.  
They came to visit Spring, dressing up the veranda
Like a toddler dressing dolls in sun hats
Like a toddler coloring umbrellas
Like an assembly line worker putting wrappers on candy.  

For their part, they resuscitated the bumble bees,
The spiders and locusts,
And saw Lazarus on a patio, half-asleep,
With his dopamine start-up kit and map to the stars,
And declared him a lost cause.  

Normally, he’d play his voice like a vibraphone
At this point but he played the windchimes
Instead.  

Upon seeing their thought bubbles dragging
The carnations bulging like egg sacks, weighted down
By question marks and quotation marks,
He crossed them out. They tried to resuscitate
The Xs too.