I managed one good thing today, 

Lemongrass    s     i
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                                      l   a    g
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makes porch-
                      adjacent                   t                          
                                                     n                       
                                            o   u                              
                                          f           
                                                                    
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                                                                  s

by gold pine b     o
                           x
                        e      s

I spill my guts to a wine-drunk evening. Now that’s 
a party. The table is set. 
The stars are introducing themselves.
The stars are taking off
their coats. I am trying to remember
the difference between objects—
did the cat or the bag
let out? And which am I to you
tonight: setup or punchline or laugh
track. If I tell you my secrets
will you turn them loose?
Loosen your tongue, darling, lose
the attitude. We haven’t got all night.
The music is dead
already; the guests are tired of dancing.
I am tired of holding you
in. Nausea is a hell
of a drug, a glass at the edge of the bar.
Potential without motion. We stand at the railing
waiting to be pushed.

carrots and tomatoes, today
an orange, red, yellow situation
grounded, willing, working through the hours

white and pink, that day
wedding cake, punch, people I had always known
years ahead, anticipated

same day on the calendar
a mere thirty six years apart
once an anniversary, still one, but no celebration

it is much easier now
I hardly acknowledge whatever significance exists
finality allows for little except
     the end, followed by a thousand beginnings
          hence the carrots and tomatoes, today

babyhood like a hole,
like the jaws of life.
i used to believe in the
luck of a pressed penny—
how childish.

hub of mud

Nah, I won’t write about the rain.
No, not today.
But. I will note that no one is standing
Outside the drug house today  

I know rain has never
Stopped an addict
Or the dealer, for that matter…
Cravings win and Money rules.  

No, perhaps today,
They’re cognizant
Of surroundings to navigate,
Before the shakes hit them too hard  

But oh, on sunny days,
Unashamed, they swarm,
Or immune to the watchful, judging eyes,
As if the sun shadows instead of illuminating  

But rain…
    Or shine…
        There it sits…  

A vending machine,
Literally,
On their open, front porch
So many chuckled glances from my window…   

It begs the question,
Just how much
Does a dime bag cost…
From a vending machine

-Questions The Glancer ponders, from inside an office window

Things were already heavy.

The kind of heavy
that settles into your chest
before your feet ever touch the floor.

Every month felt tighter.
Every dollar stretched thinner.
Every plan carried an asterisk
and a warning label.

But I could live with that.

Because there was always one thing
I could count on.

Effort.

When life pushed,
I pushed harder.

When the road steepened,
I leaned forward.

When fear knocked,
I answered with work.

That was the bargain.

The world could throw whatever it wanted at me,
but it could never stop me
from giving more.

Until it did.

Not through failure.
Not through weakness.
Not because I stopped showing up.

A gate simply appeared
where there hadn’t been one before.

And suddenly the thing
I had always trusted most
was no longer mine to give.

That is a strange kind of helplessness.

To have strength
with nowhere to spend it.

To have determination
with no place to aim it.

To stand ready for battle
and be told to lower your sword.

I keep hearing people talk about rest
as if it’s a gift.

But rest is not a gift
when it arrives uninvited.

Not when worry sits beside it.

Not when your mind keeps wandering
to all the things waiting to be paid,
fixed,
built,
or saved.

The truth is,
I wasn’t asking for comfort.

I wasn’t asking for ease.

I only wanted the chance
to carry my share.

To work.
To provide.
To keep moving forward.

Instead,
I’m standing at a locked gate,
staring through the bars,
watching the path continue without me.

And for the first time in a long while,

I don’t feel tired from the climb.

I feel tired

from being unable to climb at all.

i grabbed the mail today
and a spider, bigger than a quarter, ran out of the mailbox – and UP MY ARM
i flipped it onto the floor
and managed not to wreck my car as i pulled into the garage
debating if i needed to set my car, or maybe the house, on fire 
it sat on the mat, black and white and fuzzy
and when i tried to set it free in the yard
it waved its front legs, clacked its fangs and launched straight toward my face
“oh hell no”
and i crushed it into oblivion