There is no greater victory
Than being down
And all of the folks who counted you out
Getting to watch your parade
And they might get to pretend as if
The role they played wasn’t getting in your way
So today
Take a couple moments to reflect on what you deserve
And
What you feed and who you serve
And
Where you took off from and where you might land
And
Please recognize that you’ve survived
And
That love will be the only thing that gets you out of here
Alive
She is not afraid of the dark
She is afraid of what is in the dark
The voices of insecurity that scream
When the house settles at night
When the sun exchanges places with the moon
When she is left alone with a chorus of haunting wails
She yanks the pillows over her head
To stifle midnight’s growing howls
But they grow louder deafeningly defiant
Her heart begins to race a thrum of pounding beats
Her breath as shallow as a ripple of water disturbed by a pebble
Her skin a collection of sweltering dew
She bolts up from the bed
Like a sea anchor
She grounds herself against the choppy waters
Places her bare soles on
The red oak flooring warm tones
The hardwood carries the weight
That she cannot carry
She slowly inhales
Exhales a blend of ylang ylang and lavender diffuser
Glances around the room
Eyes fastening on her snake plant
She whispers
I have survived this before
The howling sounds
Of midnight’s despair
Retreats into the corridors of silence
Three times we lost power this afternoon,
upending an entire hotel’s worth of people
in the span of ten minutes trapped
under the vexation of
raindrops as large as thumbs.
The outage may have lasted
less than an hour altogether,
but I found it a useful gesture
to think about what others do
when they have their power ripped
from the neighboring and familiar net.
I always bring a book for times like these,
and I rarely ever read it,
but our talk turned to the future instead,
turned towards what dinner and the evening had become,
turned to the next to not think about the now.
Some people ran through the halls—
in fun or in fright, I will never know—
while others slept through the storm
as my body begged me to do.
Still others amassed as one community
in the openness of the brief lobby,
playing games or filling the space
where light normally dwelt
with words kept saved for eventualities.
So many responses to the same shared event,
and all of them right
for the worlds caught within
the eyes of people seeing the same society
lit only by sunlight.
Now when I hope to understand someone,
I feel their answer to what they do
when the power goes out
will tell me everything I need to know about them.
Half-n-half
toppings
ice cream
blend
whipped cream
cherry
straw
I hope I get off on time today
Ice cream
toppings
ice cream
toppings
ice cream
blend
spoon
toppings
I need to write my poem
Cup
ice
flavor
drink
lid
straw
few of them see me as a poet
Bump
clock out
run
return
Running lines and rhythms
Clean
restock
clean
restock
another order on the screen
All in time I could write my poem
It’s so hard to explain
To someone feelings
That you, yourself have
Yet you don’t understand
To have the life
You’ve always wanted
Yet feel that old claw
Gnarling at your back
Just waiting, lurking
For the right time
Reminding you that some
Hatchets never get buried
Until you’re in the ground
Taking you with them.
Western Rome
made it 500 years
before history
claims its fall
and here we are
at the apex of society
with the world
bragging its first
trillionaire
while kids
in
the greatest nation
die
day after day after day
we grind ourselves
into the dust
throw our short lives
into jobs
that leave us overheated
fatigued and wordless
because this is what we do
and here in the hills
if we find ourselves
drowning
with bills racking up
unable to buy a house
we’re told we deserve it
because we’re not doing
it right
with our three fucking
thank you sir and yes ma’am
jobs that measure
our worth
by our availability
I guess a poor man
doesnt have the luxury
being with his family
because its his fault
he wanted to love someone
more than his family
loved him
that he believed
he could be a better father
and those men are told
they should have never had a kid
until they could have
afforded it
everyone wants the kid
filled street with laughter
but no one wants to call them home
no wonder
no fucking wonder
forty eight thousand
of US citizens
check out too soon
after all this time
no one is winning
it has been rigged
since day one
Across the sky,
higher than the clouds,
even above the stratosphere
where the moon is but a memory,
where the sun is but a pinhole,
that is where you live.
You call, plaintive and mewing,
like a dog, wet and wordless
shivering under the front stoop,
and her heart beats fast,
chest burns,
eyes blur,
salt ducks spit drops
that navigate fine fur on her cheek.
You cry out believing
that she will come,
find you rocking back-and-forth,
arms wrapped tight,
chin resting on chest
plucking strings
than sing the songs
of the constellations,
those tragedies etched
in stars and memories,
shooting out petty dramas
that we forever play
over and over again.
I love words.
I love words and words love me.
I love words and words grow aloof and absent.
I love words and words hate me.
I love words and words don’t even think about me.
I love words and words are socializing elsewhere.
I hate words and words scream at me raucously.
I never really hated words and words were often ambivalent.
I love words and words are speaking to me again.
I love words and words have been visiting often.
I love words and words adore and adorn me.
I love words.
I am redeemed.
Grace bestowed upon me
for missing two deadlines.
But most importantly,
grace abounding around me.
For I no longer have a deadline,
but everlasting life.
