I sort through the pictures
Cataloguing each one
Good memories
Bad memories
The ones I wish I could forget
The ones I hope to always remember
A memoir of my own
One that would be of greatness
A script for the ages
A pearl-lined legacy for my children
The truth is all I can do is hope
Sometimes hoping for the best
Is all we’ve really got
While it’s not much
It’s something to hold onto.
Okay
I can’t post a poem
I just have nothing to say
I’m just exhausted
My mind is so full.
Today watch the wind
the green light
green waving.
Sit with hands,
hands clasped waiting.
Eyes on the sky-
mystery birds float,
catch wind.
What is one word for all tomorrows
unwavering worry?
Thought wailing.
Release it with the breeze,
see it slip like a snake
through Van Gogh grass.
Why would I binge
Ted Lasso when I could stare
out my sunroom window
and watch a fawn burrowing
in the underbrush, licking
its snow-flaked
coat?
he never really came back
to find us a home together
our house was just
a small rest stop
in Appalachia
until the next woman
or job came calling
it never got easy
no matter how many
times he told me
he loved me
because I never had
a reason to believe
anything he said
when the only
promise I wanted
was to take me along
11: Zero Void (MacGuffin & Company)
there is
something like an unnumbering within
us each
that scores don’t
touch.
after
all
in the vastness of space, everyone can hear you
dream
your wit
through the white and black of stars
into someone else’s tone-genius ears.
we cast, we crew, we cut and script and scene,
paste our tiny infinities into each other.
it’s an awful kind of fun
when someone gets hurt, and we lean in with
pliers,
peeling back plastic and steel layers of
abyss-thrown, feat-streaked, interstellar us
between bitching about some asshat at work.
How easily
The wind manipulates
How strong
It’s presence commanding
Choosing its route
Paths of pure destruction
Choosing your fate
Paths of pure liberation
The existence
Can carry away burdens
While it lightens
Darkened parts of your soul
The very thing
that can break inner chains
can take away
Joys you’ve begged to behold
Lunatics rave in darkness
with animosity afire between cave walls
when Bors appeared without pause.
The Holy Grail shuttered at the thralls
who made mad dashes for glory
in the form of bursting apart
for thickening the fog of war.
True paladins are not so easily broken
yet here lies Bors sputtering
as more thrall are blown open
and more and more and more keep homing.
Beaten down and bruised,
Bors made one last attempt
until the thrall crushed arms to legs
as the Holy Grail panged on the Labyrinth
awash in the blood of its protectorate.
I have so much to say to you
But I hold back,
Because I know in this moment
You won’t fully understand
You’ll hear me but you won’t feel it
I’ll write it down and save it for the day that I know you love me as much as I love you,
And if that day is never to come,
I’ll throw it away, or burn it,
Or keep it in a drawer,
Where I’ll find it mistakenly, years from now
And be grateful for my younger self
For being able to have so much love and warmth in my heart,
And I’ll love her more than I loved you
