that's mrs. mediocrity to you

hawk eye sky circus
circling pattern and crisscross river
wing map walk back
reveal

and now they say it’s not that bad, the sky isn’t
falling and here we are, bits of blue in our hair,
trapped in the rat-maze tracks we’ve worn in the
carpet, no longer even trying to get out.

and now they say sorry, so sorry, sorry, not sorry
and no one knows who cares, doesn’t care,
can’t care, wouldn’t care, cares too much,
has gone mad with the caring, can’t find
a damn thing to care about.

and now the sky is blue but it’s always raining and
the basement’s flooding, water seeping in around
the edges, no one sees if we close the door, ignore
the smell, carry on with dinner and distraction and
pretend people aren’t dying in a dark spreading puddle
of sour statistic.

and now. the question that only ever has one
answer, the damned unprepared living of it all,
smiling when the sun hits your face for one brief
silent moment, aching for life, alive love
laughter landing, burning through the
empty stare of days.

and now.

…

in the black lace
morning moment sunrise
hand held branch felled heart meld
water warped meander walk
of worship

…

the taste of tea and whispers of envy

smells of green and cinnamon
rolling through a harbor of unbalance

too late too much too early too little

promises skitter in every dark corner

wallflower flower built for keeping
pressed between pages

hidden bouquet

beauty

springs

from the humblest

roots

…

and smiles at dawn

good morning, sunshine

all along

there is no bitterness here

nor regret

just the walking off
weary worry
weight of the world

no solutions to carry

no voice fuel to parry

no answers hidden
in the littered grey gravel

just anger fury fear glinting off the back

of the (slick fake true) reel news

this sky that sky this sky
always leading always following

bluest

not enough

never

not enough

too much too much too much

to reach so high

…

squirrel fight

dove coo

blue jay belligerent

.

skin soaking up sun

anti mirror

wide smile

prismatic

.

desiderata

forgotten

.

and she walked
the center line
straight past the pond
of forgiveness

.

as if it were possible

to live anything

but

the life lived

the moment living

the day dreamed

the evening

revealed

…

dipping one toe in

the cold is brutal

still

this is where i live

now

old and grey
and somewhat silent

no one cares
except when I creak

sitting alone
in my sun-filled corner

i have always had grey cats

a favorite color
in a tiny life

lived beneath every rainbow

where the bluebirds bring me sky
and I am just a figment
of a girl’s imagination

holding court
at the laundresses
tea party

and you are the shadow
of my joy

…