Feb 11 2020

love letter from the shade
of a tree long gone

and the minutes
turn back into hours

resting lazily
on firmaments
of fiction

you with
your back turned

away

from the light
and this corner
always lurking

never parried

a universe
in small spaces

revealing worlds
or open secrets

building stories
one by one

toppling towers

picking up pieces
again and again

learning you
in new lessons

leaving scars
mixed with

salt

and midnight
smiles

.

.

.


Jan 20 2020

sitting with all of it

because what choice do we have

and besides
the sun made a rare appearance this morning
dishes needed washing
we need to eat

and

some days
it’s fair to say

i’m tired.

part of me thinks
revolution
is for the young

and we’re all just
spinning

waiting
acting
watching
fighting

for
another
day

to stand
or soar
or sit with it all

once more

.

.

.

 


Jan 9 2020

hot flashes

I couldn’t sleep for weeks
and then I remembered that I needed to write.

Ariel was always a dream, but a wakeful one,
whispering pictures and posturing portent.

I don’t need to sing, my body
is always happy to do that for me.

There’s a fire burning inside me (literally)
at the same time there’s a fire
burning down the world.

I lay awake at night and rage at everything,
but in a peaceful way.

I eat grace for breakfast and anomaly for lunch.

Everything has too many calories.
Something else I have to burn.

I can only sleep when my feet are cool
and mine are scorching these sheets
like my mother’s old iron.

This room is never dark enough,
and I am never really here.

It doesn’t matter.

Matter is energy and I am combustible.
I float like a gas just south of the ceiling.

No one ever notices, which is funny.
Except when I get stuck in cobwebs.

I’ve lived in this house longer than I haven’t.
It’s small and tiny and we are always tripping over each other.

I trip over everything anyway.

It’s winter and I miss the sky.

The snow geese are down at the swamp screaming injustice.

On New Year’s Eve the fireworks gave them fits
and I smiled as I stood
alone in the center of road
as white sparks drifted down
like lost feathers.

.

.

.