This—the longest day of the year—is illusion. 

Listen to me:  Longevity is a lie.

We have–
only–
now.

The entire planet turns its face,

like a sunflower, like the creeping

vines of buttercups, artic poppies,

ranunculus adoneus

to a sun that is unwavering–

relentless–in its fiery

affection,

meanwhile,

we are wilting, melting,

wasting

away to

nothing.

If Three A.M. is the hour

of writers, painters,

poets, musicians,

silence seekers,

overthinkers,

creatives,

then light comes,

only, in our

darkness.

can that be said of a poem as well
on a day when too many demands and all those things that could go wrong
go wrong  do you sit down and write the poem that speaks  about anger  frustration 
tears  welling up behind eyelids  throat clenched  holding back the SO DONE 

oh wow!
I just rememebered!  I am alive! 

These simple  silly  ‘first world’ problems   no problem at all!

rescope the lens through which your gaze has narrowed   pan out and see the picture that is so broad  so rich  so much more right and real  at the end of the day 
100% of every life ends 
so 
oh wow!  I grin  I giggle  I slap myself on the back with the tomfoolery of it all

write the poem about revelation 
speak of things that can change in a heartbeat
get on with living in this body 
in this space called home
on this planet that offers up its bounty to the likes of us
me

with so much grit and tenacity
all of a sudden  feel the weights drop 
let fingers trip over keyboard
I get to  we get to  you get to  so there
a poem about good news
when all there was just a moment ago
armageddon

My early morning
cough echoes through 
our home like a
warning call.
You say the ruckus
don’t bother you none.
Neither does my
moanin’ and groanin’
or my raccoon eyes
or my haystack hair 
or my last night’s
dinner breath. 
Your earnestness is
an exercise in the
patience I lack.
Your lovin’ is 
spackle in the
holes in my wall.
Your forfeiture of
anger and aggravation
in the face of my
reckless mouth
startles the worst parts
of me into submission.
I wish I could say I wouldn’t,
but I’ll always be a
red hot, fists flyin’
son of a bitch.
Thank God it
don’t bother you none. 

so big full and bright
illuminating the night
such the lovely sight

The season of my life when carpool lines and spirit cards
Mommy Mommy Mommy interjects overfilled calendar
bedtime stories and kisses my Participation Trophy

In low dance of clouds, winged serenades
a warm ocean breeze
romping with me
dancing shadows of trees.

Soft morning mist
pink setting sun
the kiss of soft fog
tickling rain drops.

Magic Monarch moment
blooms that leave me breathless
electric thread – your hand in mine
seduction of wild secret places.

Find something to love
let in wild joy
to mend the soul
recharge for the worrisome world.

Eyes clamped shut
at 47 minutes,the metallic taste of
anticoagulants
Behind closed eyes,
I visualize
Great nephew Mikah (6),
fighting leukemia,
Friend Pat (70),
fighting West Nile virus,
And Mom,
who donated blood her whole life,

In honor of and hope for them
I set aside my needle phobia
And donate platelets.

I’d walk into traffic
so you can reach out and grab my arm
to pull me back.
hold my

hand

I moved from Pity Street
to Envy Avenue last year.
My place is just off
Vengeance Boulevard.  

I have found it to be
a costly neighborhood,
but it is very quiet.
People silently stew
in their own juices
and leave me alone
to simmer in mine.  

Normally, to get where I live,
you turn right at the corner
of Venom and Spite,
but that intersection is
under construction.  

You’ll have to go an extra block
and turn at Bide-Your-Time Lane,
then backtrack to Envy.
Look for the gray-green house
in the middle of the block.  

Don’t mind the big dog
in the front yard. I’ve
had him since he was
a pup, and he’s a sweetheart.
No one would say the same
about his owner, of course.  

Once I moved away
from Pity Street, I found
that I no longer cared
that people liked
my dog so much more
than they liked me.  

Besides, I am way too busy
to think about such things,
for I have plans to make,
many, many plans.