Posts for June 22, 2026

(This is a found poem from a list I made with the reasons I wanted to call my grandmother in the year since she passed.)

I’m driving through and wanted to stop by.

They put an Aldi up in Madisonville.

I found his mugshot. He doesn’t look good.

The dogs are sedated in their storm pajamas.

Is my plant overwatered?

I have been trying to convince him to get me a new dog.

What did you mean you wash the eggs?

I found a picture of us I’d never seen before.

There was a rainbow out back today.

We couldn’t decide on a restaurant but we found a grilled cheese place in the middle of nowhere.

I have a performance this afternoon.

I taught Corndog a new trick.

I’ve been getting these pickle slushes and they’re actually good.

What’s the recipe for that beef stew?

I’m leading a training tonight after work.

We’re getting married today.

I’m flying to California for a birthday party.

They want me to wear all pink on the boat.

I have a blister that keeps getting worse.

I found sea glass.

I rode a jet ski for the first time.

Mom cut up the perfect watermelon.

I told him he could go anywhere and he chose Dollywood.

Turns out my knee is broken.

This lady invited me to her cult.

We went and played pinball because the bowling alley was booked.

My plant pushed out new leaves this week.

It didn’t snow as bad as they said it would.

He’s not doing well.

I’ll get $5 more an hour.

My neighbor is so nosy.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Do you like my new jewelry?

What can I take for a sore throat?

He’s not going to make it.

I can’t decide what to eat tonight.

I broke another tooth crunching ice.

We don’t know what to do with the dog and all his things.

Where did you put your crochet hooks?

Do you need anything from the store?

Did you lose power during the storm?

I found a way to watch those old VHS tapes.

I embarrassed myself today.

We saw someone dressed like the grinch downtown.

Merry Christmas.

We’re coming to visit.

Can you believe what she did?

I already ate all the playdough sugar cookies.

Happy New Year.

Are you eating black eyed peas and greens?

I had a great weekend.

We did bad sober karaoke.

Corndog ate through a can of soup.

What are you having for dinner tonight?

Mom and I got donuts this morning.

Happy Birthday.

I got my dogs hamburgers to celebrate you and they loved them.

I had a really hard day.

There’s a big yellow cat behind my work.

I bought the biggest tomato today.

I’m getting surgery next week.

He brought me a burnt grilled cheese.

I was awake during the second surgery.

How many siblings did grandfather have again?

There’s a bunny nest in the yard again, with four babies this year.

Did you feel weird when you turned 30? Everyone’s acting like it’s a big deal

Happy Easter.

I made an entire blanket this week.

I made him get our picture with the Easter bunny in the mall.

My client brought a dog to my office today.

Things feel really scary.

How do I make sure we’re okay?

We’re doing an 80s themed prom and I got a mullet wig.

We made it home home safe.

I’m looking at new cars.

There were 3 ticks on me.

I parked too far away and now I have to walk a mile.

I lifted heavy weights at the gym.

What are you up to?

We’ll meet you at the farm.

We’re wearing all cheetah print.

She’s having a baby.

When do I plant the tomatoes?

How do I get watermelon juice out of cotton?

Happy Mother’s Day.

I yanked a tree out of the yard.

They said I need another surgery.

The squirrels keep eating my strawberries.

There’s baby ducks in the parking lot again.

They’re finally starting me on iron.

I’m stuck in traffic.

His funeral is today.

I’m cleaning up your ceramic pigs.

so
here you are
bleeding to death in a very small room
on an uncomfortable bed
and all you did
was bring a new life into
a world where they don’t listen to you
even when you cry out in pain
even when you falter and break
even when the accomplishments don’t shine so bright
but instead they highlight all your mistakes
every single low point or heartbreak
but they told you that you were tough
built for this
Strong
and if they had paid enough attention
they’d have noticed the signs
the complications that set in and took root
and now
we just don’t have the time to save you
both
so for now, we wait
cross our fingers and tell ourselves
that we did all that we could
that everything will be okay
that all that’s left to do at this point is leave it in God’s hands and
pray
we’ll put our faith in superstitions, hopes and
good luck charms
and all the while, everyday, we amend the oath we took
to first

The carton of eggs–
sage, pale blue, spotted,
taupe, milky white, almost
lavender–
a dozen delicate shells,
a work of art,
the yolks
deep yellow saffron
best scrambled eggs ever–
who is this chicken?
I want to meet her. Thank her.
Give her a watermelon rind,
a carrot top, 
weave the scratchy hay in her coop
into pillows, listen to her
hum and cluck softly
as the moon waxes and wanes,
keep the red foxes away.

I keep writing poems to things:
like the moon and its ways of being
a moon,
despite my best efforts. 

I couldn’t tell you anything 
I saw today. 

If this is a poem, it is a poem
about the moon. I know it’s there,
impassive yet also somehow–

A day filled with storms

might derail other’s plans,

but the key to swallowing disappointment

is not planning for anything to occur at all. 

The wind blew away 

every hand that reached toward me

with its tendrils of obligations,

which allowed me to roost

on my plans for the future

that almost don’t concern me

enough to care right now.

I reached towards my words,

like I do every other day,

and they came to me freely

without the calm cajoling 

I need to show myself to work.

Without a desire to go outside

and only the need to look within,

I must thank whatever forces 

allowed my stormy head to settle

enough to ease the door of my soul 

open enough

to let my moth-ridden words escape

the pressure building from my own 

inner tempests.

People are misled by misconceptions or miscommunication.
Come to your own conclusion so there is no confusion.
Vulnerability is equivalent to visibility.
Real recognize real.

I

they praised me 
for carrying my father’s rage
so well
claimed red heads
have a temper 
by god 
meaning I was always 
bound to break something 

I was born with the world
betting against me

II

so I became a creek
coiled up on itself 
hard and shallow under heat
dangerous and ravenous 
after those heavy rains 
poisonous on dog days 
or by that woman 
I won’t know which 
but it never got me free
from that hollow 

III

so I became ones and zeroes 
when the internet was free 
found identity 
intertwining with the world
hunched over a keyboard 
in the back of a house 
under a yellow moon
frogs screaming out 
I wrote myself a new story

IV 
I’ll not hand them my father’s rage 
not allow them to believe 
that my three job exhaustion 
just to make the rent should 
be idolized 

I do not want my sons
to believe they’re just tools
to be worn dull

that the phrase 
I’m fine 
isn’t holy martyrdom
because a man is only 
cared for after he’s dead

they need to avoid 
my father’s tired sigh 
and that easy nothing 
with its sharp smile 
waiting
for that normal night 
when everything 
becomes too much

And once again I ended up
at the introverts table, awkward
conversations ringing through the room,
a testament to our eternal adolescence
as the veil faded between office and reality,
and I thought to myself,
all the work really led up to this.

I try to grab the poem but it runs 
and I am too tired to catch up.
I let little snippets come back
to me on their own, but all the sudden
I am drowning, so I allow my lover to hold
my hands as it all spills out through the cracks
of my demeanor and in the background our washing
machine sings the eternal song of domesticity,
or not even—I guess something more akin
to what we call being an adult—
and I am resigned to say that this is just
how all of it is

the washing must be done
and tomorrow we wake up again
amd do not question what it would be like
to the house and the world and our thoughts

to be still

Sometimes I tell myself the loving things

I wish you would say to me.

I imagine the parent you would be

if you weren’t mentally ill

or were more compassionate

or had the Christ-like love for me

that you seem to have for others.

I picture you being happy for me

when I get to be my female self,

being proud of my strength and bravery

and beauty,

offering comfort when I feel rejected

or scared.

When I came out to you,

I naively dreamed it would be

a Hallmark moment,

that you would feel sad

for all my time struggling in the closet

alone,

that you would embrace me

and celebrate

getting to know the real me.

I thought you would be grateful

for my LGBT discussion group,

for all the lesbians who were family to me

when you couldn’t be,

who supported me when you didn’t know.

Now you do know but pretend not to.

You have had over a decade

to mourn the loss of your son

and accept me as your daughter.

You have spent that time in fruitless denial instead,

when we could have been growing closer.

Sometimes I hear in my head

the positive, affirming words

you would speak to me

if you truly knew my pain,

the things you would say

to console me

if I could tell you about my life.

I love this ghost version of you

just like you cling

to the mirage

of a male version of me.

I guess we both have our illusions.

I am not the male child you wanted.

You are not the mother I thought you were.

Some things I saw that no one believed

A 16 inch frog when I was 8. Like a small dog. Dead on the side of the road.
When I came back later to prove it, it was gone, but there was still a wet spot where it had been.

A duck who spoke like an old man, muttering and angrily complaining, joined my conversation under the poplars late one night when I was 10. It seemed I was the only one who heard the stream of mostly unintelligible and cranky words. 

A 13 ft black angel holding a sword above his head, shoulder length curly hair, flowing robe. It looked like it was made of metal but no signs of being man made. On the sidewalk of a sketchy bombed out neighborhood in L.A. at 3 am. I was 19. I’ve always been talented at spotting faux anything or in guessing accurately material or methods for any art or sculpture or construction.

A ufo came down about 20 ft from me while I was walking in a big field near the woods in Berea one night. A vee of circular lights, somewhat dim, the size of a bus. Other than the lights I saw no actual craft. It made no sound but I could feel the air displaced as it settled and departed. It arrived on an inhale, stayed about 15 seconds, then rose up and was gone in about 3 seconds. Some people came running who had seen it too. I was possibly 22. 

A man who’d been dead over a year was trying extremely hard to get my attention in the grocery store. I looked at him and smiled with a little ņod and wave. He smiled,  gave me a knowing look or two before gesturing to his wife, stocking shelves on the other side of the store. When I looked at her she looked up from the floor, over her shoulder and right at me, though there were displays and aisles, people, carts, bread racks and 70 ft between us. I didn’t find out or know for a few weeks that he’d been gone over a year. I was 34.

That same year I saw a bright blue aura, like a flame resting on a man’s head. Half of a rainbow arc, about 4-5″ long and about 2″ tall. It radiated from him. It didn’t change color or flicker, didn’t come to a point like a flame. It did seem to emanate, like moon beams do sometimes, which gave it a moving and fuzzy appearance. It was as solidly real as anything you’ve ever seen. I waited a full minute or two until it faded away, before saying what I had seen. 

In my life I’ve had people be infuriated by me. Try to exercise control over me, use lies to recruit and gang up on me. Purposefully exclude me.  Use aggression or micro aggression to attempt to coerce me to anger. Singling me out, targeting me, coming at me with fury and no proof, or with rule books missing the rules they are trying to throw at me. Telling me what I think or what I’m worth without asking or knowing me, using me as a doormat, completely ignoring me, belittling me, bossing me, with no authority or logic or reason on their side.
With repetition and many additional observations,
I have come to categorize this behavior as either sexist, racist or classist but from what I have noticed, not many are willing to admit these things exist.