that's mrs. mediocrity to you

and i’ll show you a seed
left to dry in an envelope

or an avalanche of words
dropped cold on a doorstep

or a curtain barely moving
in a window filled with need

…

the right thing
is almost never
the easiest thing

and i watch you
doing everything
the hard way

taking root
in the furrow
of new growth

this morning the sun
strode straight past
the center of longing

we’re both here

(or there)

dawning

…

these days
i drink information
through a funnel

an endless stream
of bits and bytes

hoping for
a nibble

or a pause
just long enough

to gasp

grasp

entangle

…

scraping ice from a windshield
in the dark cusp of dawn

red-winged blackbirds
flash neon signs
in hopes of feed and sun

three days ago
i watched a hawk
murder a grackle

(never forget to keep an eye
on the sky)

i whisper
and begin walking south
as the silence of north
calls me home

each step a false migration
blurring line
between time and design

a march of soldier
armed with rhyme

and stubborn pockets

leaking trails of sanity’s
seed

.

quickly now

tell me what you love
who you miss

how you
survive

if the rain makes you weep
if the stars make you shiver
if the ocean brings you to your knees

quickly now

show me the heart
that’s fallen from your sleeve

read me your mind
from the book of deep night

tell me the story that races
through the tunnels
of your soul

quickly now

.

. . . . .

.

here i am again, doing this again–30 days of poems, hoping the words will come.
hoping hope will come, as well.

.

the changeling

post-mortem
and i’m still standing

here

in front of
scarcity

just the way
i did

when you
were
more

.

. . . . .

.

here i am again, doing this again–30 days of poems, hoping the words will come.
hoping hope will come, as well.

.

ample

what is enough
when you have no pantry
no cupboard
no shelf?

what is too much
when you have
empty rooms?

.

. . . . .

.

here i am again, doing this again–30 days of poems, hoping the words will come.
hoping hope will come, as well.

.

if you need to bleed

let it go

if you need to weep
if you need a river
if you need to wail
if you need to shiver

let it go

if you need deep silence
the despair of solitude
if you need to repent
or the bliss of belief

let it go

if you need to laugh
if you need a mountain
if you need to howl
if you need a fountain

let it go

if you need to bleed

let it go

.

. . . . .

.

here i am again, doing this again–30 days of poems, hoping the words will come.
hoping hope will come, as well.

.

remnant

from the upstairs window
a glint of light in the back field

driftwood?
i thought

as I walked back
to discover
a large pair of wings

white
with some grey

but mostly:

empty

silent

pristine

.

. . . . .

.

here i am again, doing this again–30 days of poems, hoping the words will come.
hoping hope will come, as well.

.

life is a poem

we forget

;

each breath

adding song

to existence

.

. . . . .

.

here i am again, doing this again–30 days of poems, hoping the words will come.
hoping hope will come, as well.