Wednesday, April 29, 2015

and be cared for

no poetry today.  Just thoughts.  There are so many different kinds of difficult.  There is the wondering how poorly those you once loved must still judge you.  That's a bitter after taste that never seems to go away.  There is reaching for a best friend and companion when you didn't mean to reach, realizing it is a comfort beyond what you imagined, only to then realize there are mixed messages that must be stopped.  There is not knowing what is coming to a degree that leaves you seeing a big hole where the ability to provide used to be.  There is the encroaching of a two year anniversary that is the living black crust that coats your heart.  There is the fact that all of these and more coalesce every day, in a multitude of ways, while you continue putting one foot in front of the other.  Because what else is there to do?  I search for work.  I search for friends.  I search for comfort.  I search outside and in...some of my choices bring judgement...I can't let that stop me.  I have to do what I can to become strong as I need.  I have to find a way through this.  I know it will come from inside me.

I'm tired of pretending.  I hate playing games.  There is so many things messed up...I wish there was something to fix.  It's not a fix it game.  It's a live it game.

I'd like to beg the universe to hold me over the edge...the rim
turn me upside down
shake me so everything comes loose

I want to start again

I want to re-shift the atomic structure of me
and the things I carry

adjust the settings
allow for comfort here

the deepest difficulty?
that I keep fighting the losing bits by saying " I don't care"
yet all I want to do
is care

Sunday, April 26, 2015

2 poems from class

Ability to Brighten

Here is the soft and soothing secret
Hear that sound?

It is your bed

And it is not just a
sanctuary for sleep

It is a reservoir
for the partial penetration
of precipitation from a lake
like Lethe

You can curl up
and cover your head

Allow breaths to slow
shoulders to drop
back muscles to release

Until she comes to you
the Wise Observer
from inside your darkest dreams
dancing with absurdity trends

Feel the heart furrows
begin to bend

The soft and soothing secret
is that the sun
has always been shining
from inside you

Allow yourself
To be


Even Electricity

To be grounded
even just for a moment
A brief shared smile
the touch of a friendly hand
Find safe haven
while crying from the depth of connection
A momentary shimmering reminder
that inside us, stored within
our wondrous hearts
is all that ever was
or ever could begin to be
...the stuff of stars
Illumination, without expectation
offering restoration
vulnerable in its unending
if even just
for a single
shining moment
in our own
electric haze

Thursday, April 23, 2015


I can feel her, the Wise Observer,
With me even now
She doesn't judge even foolish choices

They are not so bad...they are what is

It isn't you...these things that happen

They are how you react to things that
Breathe deeply
Focus inward
Wrap your arms around

For you deserve comforting

To be the one who comforts

There's power on both sides
Power in tenderness
A gentle strength

There's someone there
It is Merlin
Isis and Desdemona,
Tom Sawyer, Lolita, Scout...

Can I be safe
To a deep deep place?
With no hand to hold?
With only me beside me
To guide me
And lift me, to hold me?

Can there be such a place to live?
Where the driving force
isn't loneliness?
Where every move comes from
Somewhere else...
A place of safe
Belief in self

Just breathe
Curl into you
And hold so tight
Your heart can move
along with the rest of you

I like the thought

Even if it does come
in scattered sacred
blinks of speculation.

Saturday, April 18, 2015

shining desperate dichotomy (poem)

I'm trying to learn.  And I'm bothered by the numbness the lessons bring
crystal clear visions of the hospital bed
stuffed into our living room, with the gold tint chandelier
hanging above him
our youngest curly haired boy climbing up to kiss him
thumbs up
a thumbs up

and not ever a moment of understanding
for what it looks like
from behind my eyes

I have a balloon
inflating and deflating
in my chest
pushing so hard it often impedes breathing

but it's an old balloon
and there are lives inside
that sometimes scream

that make no sense

a teenage girl biking to the park to read
arriving home to defamation and curses

a young woman seeing the slatted lights
that stream through plastic window blinds
trying and failing to push off the weight of a man

a college student stepping into a car
that leads down a rabbit hole to hell
three faces, just three too many

and there is the tapping
head and face, collar bone and hand

attempting to move memories
heavier than granite
with talons that burn
sliding the slab aside
to face
the next layer

maneuver the minefield
dig up the deadly chunks of metal
that threaten to blast every breath
of hope from healing hands

it has to be a solitary selection
choosing the moment of standing
and loosing the support you cling to...

while whispers of self hatred
spread gravel in my ears
the deepest dichotomy
is that desperate need to define
what strength is

Is it a pushing toward empty
a solitary violent spiral

Or is it allowing yourself
to break open
in shattering shining moments
creating cracks to fill
with gold

I know what I believe
I simply question my abilities.

Sunday, April 12, 2015

always a new challenge (poem)

I have a secret
that I do not want to keep
and I don't know how to define
pain and fear brought me down
this path
there is intimidation
without fear

our hearts
are not wrong
we are walking temples
for the winds
of the wilderness

cucumbers, mint, and rosemary
dark red wine
and crappy beer

litter boxes
and mud rooms
and far too many shoes

too much reality
and not enough connection

and the need never stops
and never should
though we reach for
a way to breathe

for blue skies

sun that tilts your head up
feeling like you are part flower
deep in your genes

porch swings
and new music

blank page future
and memories of burning fire
which are everything
that could possibly be

crumpling in cancerous fire

and the finger tip numbness
of worm holes catching creepy houses
and super heroes resurrected as back packs
till we find a place
that fits

these are the heart homes
that hold you
a shelter in the confusing storm
of weak and twisted minds

of everything inside buzzing love moments
of nothing

and all that is left
is breathing
strong beer
broccoli and chicken fingers
broken glass past
pictures of one step forward

and dirt
my fingernails

a day well done

until dawn 

Monday, April 6, 2015


I have holes
So many
And still
I sail
A fading pirate vessel
A gently rocking porch swing
An implanted lavender bush
Small and wan

And still the stars enter me
In tiny places
Laying broken
Crying on the dirty cold wood floor

A year
Two years
Eight or even twelve
Each one an eternity
A quarter of a second

And words

Electric songs of vibrating metal
Singing wordless
To the tips of the bits of me

My holes
I believe
Will make me whole

A step
Forwards, sideways, backwards, down...
They are still steps
A dance
My dance
The dance of broken things
Releasing in the hopes of finding release
Torture is time, twisting and writhing
And time is a gift
The only gift that matters
With eyes
The size
Of dying love dreams
Crusting hidden corners of a living heart