Wednesday, November 15, 2023

precipice

things seem more sincere
when it's the last time
you're going to do them

loving touches in
routine duties

memorable lines in
rote conversations

makes meaning
in the madness

if i could pause
each time i talk 
to someone today

just to say
thank you thank you thank you
for sharing your health
and energy
and point of view

i would

but talk becomes tedious
when preparing for the end

(and it will be the end of something)

takes the will away

the will that says
thank you thank you thank you 
for these moments 
of usefullness 

however fleeting

and lead me to the grey
gently, please

no longer me but even still free

in the back of my eyes

(wise)




Saturday, October 14, 2023

who i helped today

a woman who's a bit cantankerous
who came with a wish list of demands
that she'll probably be mad about later
looking at me with a judgemental eye
(probably about my earrings)
clink

a man who wanted help with google ads 
since i worked in the public sector i should be an expert in 
google ads
how dare you type my question in google
oh there's the answer
thanks 

a child being sent in
by her mother
to pick up a romance novel
with "concubine" in the title
"would you like a plastic bag?"
yes, please, and a unicorn sticker
surely

a man 
carefully walking
his stature still tall
but precarious
his clothes too big
for his thinning frame

he patiently waited
for copies he needed
i tried hard not to act differently
when i found out
it was his last will and testament
written cautiously in brilliant cursive

he received colorful paper clips 
and a special folder
to carry his burdens
and all the attention i could muster
without seeming too weird

much talk about the weather, 
and autumn days
from long ago

where does it all go





 

Tuesday, September 26, 2023

the blinking cursor

hey
did you happen to wonder
what silences a poet?

physical ailments
complicated entanglements
harsh realities

too many maladies? 

sometimes the world
gets too big

and the voice
becomes too small
against it

and what's within 
it never seems to measure up

deep breaths
long walks
short talks
denial

never seem to help
as much as patient paper

or the blinking cursor

i shall try 
once a month
to dare to feel
how i really am

and understand 
why the end 
seems so near

(no fear)



Wednesday, November 2, 2022

stomp

"doritos?"

He looked up. She had two packages of chips, hummus, two beers, a... bunch of grapes?... and a roll of paper towels precariously balanced in her arms. He knew the Ranch Doritos needed rescuing from her vice-like choke hold but . . .

"No, thank you."

she looked stunned, and rightfully so. the stairs, an easy climb for his long legs, always seemed to be challenge to her shortness. it didn't help that she had this natural stomping walk that wreaked havoc on an incline. still, if she didn't stomp, he wouldn't be able to hear her, and her presence still made him a little nervous, and... what? oh, yeah. back to the doritos.

"ok." 

she slowly turned around, balancing on the first step. he pictured his top-heavy beauty's roller coaster ways, and knew he had to....

"Stop!  Wait wait wait!"

she turned around, brightly smiling, hopeful.

"You can leave the Doritos."

"oh."

she trampled over, and dropped both doritos, one of the grapes, and the paper towels.  

"canistay?"

"No, really, I have to finish this. It's almost a high school essay of madness over here."

"i could be real quiet. i won't even touch you!"

he considered the option. she'd lie down on the other side of the bed. she'd *crinkle-crinkle* open the chips. she'd make each dorito last seventeen bites "to savor it." she'd look for the paper towels, then audibly make that squeaky "oh!" sound that she does when she realized they were on his side of the bed. there'd be a tiptoe-stomp tiptoe-stomp tiptoe-stomp as she treaded all the way around the bed. she'd lean down, and sneaaaaaaaak the paper towel roll from in between his legs, then hopping on one foot all the way back to the other side of the bed, gently snickering like that one dog on the hanna-barbera cartoons. (snickerdootle? snickley?) all while tossing that mad mess of hair from side to side, and bouncing..... herself.

then, while she's reading, she'll move from one side. turn to the other side. lie on her belly. take a pillow. take another pillow. snort a grape. throw a grape and catch it in her....nose.

"No. I really have to get this finished." 

she nodded shortly. she put a beer down on his nightstand, grabbed the paper towels and a doritos bag, and walked quietly out of the room.

each step laid his heart out flat.

he went back to his work, silently convincing himself he made the right choice. really, it had been a nice, quiet, productive afternoon until she had come in. it was sure to continue now that she was gone.

but, with each push of "enter"... with each tap on the space bar.... with each period at the end of the sentence, he felt a life put on pause until she came back.

correction, until she came stomping back.

because she stomped.

(stomp)







Sunday, October 30, 2022

fasten the seat belts

the pureness 
that we had
with the typewrittened 
word

got cluttered 
with the sounds 
of our frustrations

the back-and-forth
that we had
in replies and memes

got dismissed 
in the intent
to be heard 

when love
turns to anger
you learn 
not to hope

when whispers
turn to yells
you learn
not to listen

when no
is negated
and yes
is hated

you demonstrate
fear and sadness
inside

when love's 
a bumpy ride
you want to get off

there is no thought
but leave

and the silence 
you gain
remind you of
the pain

but it resolves
the feeling to
hide

(inside)





Tuesday, October 11, 2022

the bad

"You always remember the bad."

the bad 
shakes me 
to the core

reminding me of 
what i went through 
before

i marvel at you 
remembering everything

the good 
the bad
the weather
the clouds

all the minutia 
that i 
as the poet
am supposed to 
marvel in

instead i sketch in
the gray
and paint on 
the black

attacking any good
day with my stormy
self

has the past 
tainted my vision
forever?

will the pollyanna
in me
be shortlived?

what goes on 
in my heart
anyway?

(grey)





Friday, October 7, 2022

there

if you hang out in
the deep of night
look to the light

i might be there