Thoughts
The headache
The quiet determination to listen again
The sun in the trees
The quiet determination to be present
A text from a friend
The determination to believe in better
Yellow
The choice to return
You can’t take it with you is only one reason to not cling to material goods. The other, who is going to go through it? when you’re gone? Perhaps it’s best if someone unattached sells them at auction. Takes them to Goodwill.
unraveling life
of my parents could take mine
with each item touched
A piece of tinfoil lays crumbled near the gate, covered with overgrown bushes, sprouts from the tree we cut down years ago, overtake the stump. Furniture scattered on the front porch. Wind chimes collide with each other.
a pleasant morning
Mom hangs clothes on the line
Texas wind in trees
Some things remain untouched. Siblings have been broken apart. The family photo of smiles from 50 years has been replaced by quarreling and questions of what goes to whom and why. In the case of money, it is easy. In the case of memories, knickknacks and photographs, it is chaos.
the mantra letting
go with un-attachment is
unattainable
i like the way the rain pours
so beautiful in the wind
5 minutes past
gone again
we miss whats gone so quickly
what once was and what will never be
we ask ourselves, gently
why are we here
what’s it all for?
jump straight to conclusions
god, hope, an illusion
maybe we’ll never know
and that comforts me
all i know is who i am
not who i will be
what is here now
not what could be
the gods i worship
the earth i sing to
saying thank you
that i’m here
saying thank you
that i was
saying thank you
for all that breathes
into and around me
when i can’t breathe
for myself
this life is painful
and my heart aches
but the sun
that kisses my skin
as i write these words
sustains me in ways
i could never explain
even when i try to
Nearly every time you vomited,
it was hot dog, on your dad,
or in my slippers when you came to tell me.
Three hours into your scream-crying flight at 4 months old,
I handed you to a French lady who asked to hold you,
she patted your back and said, “She yust need to buhrpe,”
the screaming stopped, no one cheered out loud, but they did with their faces.
11:00 PM at a New Year’s Eve party,
11-year old you said, “You can go ahead home, Dad,
Mom and I will get a ride.”
You have never run faster than when chasing
a runaway dog- yours or someone else’s-
through busy neighborhood streets;
this comes up more than seems statistically probable.
We were all settled on the mat for prenatal yoga
when the peaceful music gave way to whale noises
I was snort-laughing and about to pee
when the instructor asked us to leave.
Even in utero, you were my favorite, joyful human.
Today I strung and snapped some beans
and didn’t drop a one.
I threw in tiny red-skinned taters
and boiled ‘em ‘till they’s done.
And then I sliced a mater ripe
and ate a piece or two.
The cukes were next – bring on the salt! –
‘cause nothing else will do.
High on the hog! They cheered and cried
as I dished up their bowls.
For nothing beats a garden meal,
when memory’s the goal.
The girls stand there like a club I’m not allowed to join
because I started life with the wrong invitation.
Though I am friendly with every one of them, the sentiment
is universal: there’s no further place for me to find here.
Desires have been discerned, boundaries drawn in bold,
barriers that are not mine to challenge because I will lose,
but I take care that any bitterness doesn’t get tasted by them.
One can be resenting without being resentful of anyone.
***
Just like how I don’t resent the missionaries and their invitation
Have you met out Lord and Savior Jesus Christ?
A freshman in college, detached from familiar youth groups,
I was in freefall and they provided to me a place to land.
They were only doing what they thought was best
and it worked, for a time. Until it went bad.
I caught a glimpse of the outside world. Saw
my best years wasted in suits and Sacrament Meetings
while peers traveled the world and built careers
and partied until the morning came around again.
When I eventually got out
I was so far behind.
I was still picking up the pieces
while surrounded by weddings.
***
Met a girl around that time–she came on to me at the bar,
bought a couple drinks then surprised me a kiss
then another and another until I let her take me home,
but casual sex was never what I envisioned for myself.
I stared at her ceiling thinking I don’t want this while below
she did her best with my flaccidly wrong invitation.
My one one-night-stand
and I wasn’t even up for it.
I wanted the happiness
that kept blossoming around me.
***
Finally thought I had it last year
when conversation and occasional flirting
evolved unexpected with an invitation to the fair-
she wanted me to meet her kids.
What else
was I supposed
to think about that?
I said after I’d like to take her to dinner,
she said I only invited you as a friend.
***
Can you blame me for being little gunshy with dating?
For the hitch in my voice when it’s time to bare a heart?
The people were always wrong
or I was wrong for the people
so at some point, you just give up
and in that emptiness, for me, an envy thrives
for those blessed with themselves,
for those who have found a space in other people.
These girls don’t do anything wrong; they just make me
a little more aware of what’s still missing
and I can hold myself accountable to myself.
It’s not my place to impede on anyone’s joy.
I’m not going to say a thing
about last night,
not a single thing
about how you staggered in,
searching your pockets
for your cell phone,
reeking of cigar smoke
and burping gin.
I’m not going to say a thing
about how this is the third time
this month you promised
we would do something
together on a Saturday night
–a movie, a ball game, dinner out–
only to find myself alone all day
waiting, waiting,
with my hair washed
and my nails done,
wearing the pink blouse
and the tiny seashell necklace
you bought me in Florida
on our one-and-only vacation.
I’m not going to say a thing
about your trip to Lowe’s
that ended in a bar
for the third time this month.
I’m not going to say a single thing.
generate a poem
a haiku
the haiku must have 3 layers of meaning
a physical
a metaphorical
and a spiritual
the first line must include
a seasonal reference
the theme is nature
specifically not robots
do not mention robots
do not mention AI
do not sound like AI
do not use emdashes
oh wait
emdashes are cool in haiku
have been long before you
use one emdash
the haiku must be able
to be interpreted 3 ways
by 3 people
you get 17 syllables
go
The store put out Christmas products today:
A handful of cardinal-and-holly dishes
Horses with sleighbells
And the ornaments people have been asking for since March.
Many of these people will never be back
So I understand wanting to take a memory with them
But why a memory you can only touch for one month of the year?
(Two or three if you have a broader idea of the Christmas season than I do)
Is that season exceptionally suitable for digging up forgotten things?
Or perhaps these customers do want to remember all year round
And they simply have the heart for celebration twelve months of the year
Breaking free of tradition to believe
That joy is not just for the holidays.
