American Sentence XLVIII
Not one passenger saw the bird, but all heard his thin, sweet, high-pitched notes.
Not one passenger saw the bird, but all heard his thin, sweet, high-pitched notes.
The doctor, when he came back in, hands full of a tablet’s lab reports etc.
sat spread legged on the stool, rolled a little closer, so his manner showed
concern. Looked down at the tablet again. His thinning hair made me
wonder why he didn’t just shave it. Why he didn’t care to, what that meant.
The thin tablet in his hands’ supple offering. The smell of isopropyl
sturdy in the air like well-mounted shelving, sturdy but not enough
for me to climb, or hang onto, or hold, which is all I really wanted then.
He studied the screen in his immaculate hands, knuckles unwrinkled,
fluorescent bulbs reflected on his moisturized wrists. He looked at me,
looked back at the tablet, back at the gallows of data entry and statistics.
I pictured my grave. Boring and eventual, as a paper wrapper housing
straws in the perverse heaven unity of a hallway’s blue recycling bin.
Just then, he said, “I’m sorry to have to tell you this …” Outside the room,
a group of nurses started singing, Happy Birthday to You, Happy Birthday to you…
If snow falls on cedars, let me be pine,
a stolid passion in the coming storm–
to stand where planted, roots gone pediform–
until the wind that sways these limbs consigns
these arches into motion, wild moon shine
awakening what’s petrified & worn
to dance outside the lines, once dendriform
but free verse, now, our poetry aligned.
There is a hidden glen within our words–
a bowl to catch the wind, the rain, the light–
a sanctuary where the trees lift swords
of branches in salute to stars & night.
& when the clouds embrace to break at last
that space will sow the seems once overcast.
Praise God. Sing Loudest.
She has all her marbles!
the purple and yellow iris–tall to the sky
Dear Creators of the delightful little squares of sugar we call Now Laters,
Please bring back the chocolate Now Laters.
I had a very traumatic childhood but the chocolate Now Later was always a delicious, chewy respite from the trauma. When I had a chocolate Now Later, I could relax and let my guard down and my mind wander, for just a moment.
My inner child would very much appreciate your consideration in this matter.
I look forward to the return of chocolate Now Laters…in stores soon!
“don’t save your good ideas (for later)
get everything out (now)”
they say (so i say)
i say
I don’t know where to put it (or how)
so long (brown cow)
(good night)
