that's mrs. mediocrity to you

and today I’m at the edge

of waves and water
water and waves

rolling sound and
rumbling cloud

tumble stumble
roam-rambling
around and around
and around

bent clock chiming
a litany of blue
false mirror memories
written only in sand

waves and water
water and waves

wearing down bone-sharp corners and
twisted-knife wounds

bash-crashing
ripple dancing
up the coast of blind deception

drowning out the sound
of simple silence
concealed in the shade
of broken boulders

pounding
washing
polishing
clean

these broken-tainted
pickled ghosts
drinking rich
from thirst’s existence

…

and everything i gave you was lost
and everything you took from me was broken
and today it’s just me

and

this blanket and this cat
and this blue brutal happiness of nothing
and i have nowhere to go
nowhere to put these feelings
everywhere i try to set them down

starts a fire

it’s sunday and no one
can fix my sky.

and

the beauty of brittle

the freedom of

letting go

holding hands with life’s sadness
old loves on a corner
with no place to meet

the silence of soliloquy

or the tree
that falls
to tell its own story

setting seed

also known as

forgiveness

…

windows
wide open
for a moment
of fresh

inhale
exhale
bounce off
horizon

bird song dawn
and sunset singing

we’re all here
spreading green

it’s all new
all old
the same
same
circle

always here
lending

a hand

…

yesterday i saw
just floating along
on this river of tall information
a tiny white scrap
inscribed with the words:

survival isn’t enough

a meme or a tweet or a post by a host
dropped by someone post-haste in the knowing
as with so many lines caught deep in the waves
of this infinite brick-brackish water

and i smiled to myself
just a flash
before thinking
oh child just you wait
because darling
survival
is
plenty

and yes
there is always much more
we can do with its gift
more to learn
more to love
more to cherish

but oh, my friend

in the color of end

survival
is quite simply

being

watching the way you peeled an onion
hiding tears in a scented candle
rose-sandlewood-something when really
it was the smell of smoke you hoped to hide
long after you’d quit and we both knew
it was him again
lingering in places you’d already scoured
as i peeled carrots, chopped celery, sliced
a moon down the side of one finger
before either of us noticed it was raining
and you were gone

it’s friday again
and also

snowing

the birds breathe fire
and singe the cat’s hair
and i’m finally able
to say:

spring

(but no one hears me)

…

twenty years later
that’s what we call it

not nine eleven oh one
not September 11, 2001
just
nine eleven

two words

three digits

two towers

four planes

thousands

of

mothers
fathers
daughters
sons
sisters
brothers
wives
husbands
aunts
uncles
girlfriends
boyfriends

not statistics

falling

from

the

sky

not dates
or where were you’s

just whole hearts
in odd numbers

each one

the only necessary

evidence

of love

::

.

.

I wrote this for the 10-year anniversary
of this tragic, horrid event.

I am re-posting it again today, in honor of all those hearts.

Never forget.

.

the world is on fire

stop what you’re doing
no
stop

nothing is fair and the sky is lit
broken

stop
listening
smiling dancing and buying
stop building hiding
breathing
complaining

stop spinning

stop spilling

stop drilling
for rain

i’m an ocean of echo
on the tilt-shift of dragon

i am gold and philosophy
still and bespoken

i am school with no student
blinded by billow

i’m the cloud of refrain
in a field of forgotten

stop

clumsy and violent
in our destruction

carnivore
herbivore

sure-footed-thunder
bearing down
on no future

the world is burning (turning)
turning (burning)

bleak mornings
endless nights

fear stirred by anxiety’s spear

searching for hope
in a world
already scarred
(scared)

i have a pebble
to offer

worthless

polished
smooth
by worry

set high on a shelf

worn
whole
silent

waiting

.

.

.