His was a madness that
whispered in his ear,
soft and sweet
dream-like
a gossamer that tickled his
hair and sometimes itched,
that made him
scratch
at skin that he could
not feel beneath the
thin blanket of
spiderwebs
as he plummeted deeper into
a world the rest
of us couldn't
see
--
Three Word Wednesday - devastate, gossamer, plummet
Thursday, November 6, 2014
Monday, November 3, 2014
Smothered
At first
you felt comfortable
and cool,
an old blanket
I could
wrap myself in,
never dreaming
that one day
that familiar
embrace of fabric
would become
like the
binding of bedsheets
prolonging the
terror of a
bad dream
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
No man left behind
I never wanted a man in uniform.
Though, I always did have the talent
for attracting what I didn't want, as
if life was teasing me
with some screwed up game of
permanent "opposite day."
No, military men were away too much;
couldn't wrap my brain around the torture
of loving and lusting for someone too
far away to hypnotize with
a flash of flesh, lotion bottles
in every latrine.
I didn't dream of sharing a bed
with a Marine whose nights were filled
with machine gun fire, whose train of
thought always returned to the
secrets that made him cry out
in his sleep.
He startled so easily. Called himself a
chicken for not wanting to go back
a fourth time; knowing no amount of
liquor could make him forget
how this war had already broken
him beyond repair;
no longer one of the few good
men, though Semper Fi still ran through
his blood -- a brotherhood, loyalty, gimmick to
sell all of us on the
idea that no man would ever
be left behind.
--
Sunday Whirl #182 -- machine, lust, liquor, tease, flesh, trains, gimmick, chickens, torture, lotion, hypnotizing, brains, uniform
Though, I always did have the talent
for attracting what I didn't want, as
if life was teasing me
with some screwed up game of
permanent "opposite day."
No, military men were away too much;
couldn't wrap my brain around the torture
of loving and lusting for someone too
far away to hypnotize with
a flash of flesh, lotion bottles
in every latrine.
I didn't dream of sharing a bed
with a Marine whose nights were filled
with machine gun fire, whose train of
thought always returned to the
secrets that made him cry out
in his sleep.
He startled so easily. Called himself a
chicken for not wanting to go back
a fourth time; knowing no amount of
liquor could make him forget
how this war had already broken
him beyond repair;
no longer one of the few good
men, though Semper Fi still ran through
his blood -- a brotherhood, loyalty, gimmick to
sell all of us on the
idea that no man would ever
be left behind.
--
Sunday Whirl #182 -- machine, lust, liquor, tease, flesh, trains, gimmick, chickens, torture, lotion, hypnotizing, brains, uniform
Wednesday, October 8, 2014
If I were 5
In a world of my
own making, I
stand before the mirror mesmerized
Me: age 5
transfixed by my own face
and blissfully ignorant
of my bloated belly, shaking
narrow, boyish hips
that will one day become
the fabulous curves
I'm ashamed to flaunt, the
foundation of a
I'm ashamed to flaunt, the
foundation of a
woman's body I can't seem
to face in
the mirror, trapped in a
world of my own making
to face in
the mirror, trapped in a
world of my own making
---
Sunday, October 5, 2014
Inner space
If we aren't
made of stardust
then why do
we fly through
space and see
the swirl of
galaxies form each
time we squeeze
our eyes shut
--
Creative Bloomings prompt 169: a sense of belonging
made of stardust
then why do
we fly through
space and see
the swirl of
galaxies form each
time we squeeze
our eyes shut
--
Creative Bloomings prompt 169: a sense of belonging
Friday, October 3, 2014
Barren
She'd always dreamed of
holding a baby in her
arms, worry melting
away as fingers
traced tendrils of newborn hair,
nostrils inhaling
the intense sweetness
of fresh, new love.
There was no pain in
the place where life would not grow,
just the ache of arms
forever empty,
instead carrying the weight
of her silent grief
the intense sting of
the word "barren."
Three Word Wednesday: barren, intense, worry
holding a baby in her
arms, worry melting
away as fingers
traced tendrils of newborn hair,
nostrils inhaling
the intense sweetness
of fresh, new love.
There was no pain in
the place where life would not grow,
just the ache of arms
forever empty,
instead carrying the weight
of her silent grief
the intense sting of
the word "barren."
--
Three Word Wednesday: barren, intense, worry
How to live
Don't pick your nose
or cross your eyes
don't touch poop or
those ugly flies
Clean your room
don't jump on your bed
listen to your mom
(it won't go to her head)
Be kind to all people
and please don't ever whine
follow your heart
and let yourself shine
--
Poet's United - children's books
or cross your eyes
don't touch poop or
those ugly flies
Clean your room
don't jump on your bed
listen to your mom
(it won't go to her head)
Be kind to all people
and please don't ever whine
follow your heart
and let yourself shine
--
Poet's United - children's books
Thursday, October 2, 2014
Moving on
This week's prompt on Poetry Jam was "magic." And there's nothing I find more magic than the human capacity to love, forgive, hope, endure ...
MOVING ON
We fight
we yell
we cry
we cling
we despair
we beg
we regret
we ache
we wonder
we release
we remember
we love
--
Poetry Jam: magic
MOVING ON
We fight
we yell
we cry
we cling
we despair
we beg
we regret
we ache
we wonder
we release
we remember
we love
--
Poetry Jam: magic
Wednesday, October 1, 2014
The space between
What is a human heart
but a fast twitch of muscle
a cavernous buh-bump
pushing blood through hollow chambers,
the microscopic infinity
between each cell
some unknown substance, dark matter
like black holes in outer
space ... a place
we imagine but can't fathom
though entire universes
live within us
--
Poetic Asides Wed Prompt 282 - broken down
but a fast twitch of muscle
a cavernous buh-bump
pushing blood through hollow chambers,
the microscopic infinity
between each cell
some unknown substance, dark matter
like black holes in outer
space ... a place
we imagine but can't fathom
though entire universes
live within us
--
Poetic Asides Wed Prompt 282 - broken down
Monday, September 29, 2014
The fall
The smell of burning leaves
outside couldn't overpower
the smell of burning croissants
wafting from the downstairs kitchen,
the chaos of
smoke detectors beeping incessantly loud,
while Mom, who never cooks,
grabbed a towel
from the counter to fan
the smoke from the charred
pastries out through
an open window to intermingle
with the smoldering pile of
red and yellow
leaves in our long driveway
behind Dad's old yellow VW
bug and beside
the spot my sister and
I liked to play hopscotch,
retreating to the
outdoors while my brother butchered
Mozart practicing his oboe every
night, our go-to
punching bag for sibling barbs
The beeping stopped but the
smell of smoke
lingered and I wondered if
the rest of dinner was
lost. If we'd
still be eating roast beef
or if Dad would call
Chen's for wonton
soup and takeout for five
--
Creative Bloomings prompt 168 - mix-and-match muse
outside couldn't overpower
the smell of burning croissants
wafting from the downstairs kitchen,
the chaos of
smoke detectors beeping incessantly loud,
while Mom, who never cooks,
grabbed a towel
from the counter to fan
the smoke from the charred
pastries out through
an open window to intermingle
with the smoldering pile of
red and yellow
leaves in our long driveway
behind Dad's old yellow VW
bug and beside
the spot my sister and
I liked to play hopscotch,
retreating to the
outdoors while my brother butchered
Mozart practicing his oboe every
night, our go-to
punching bag for sibling barbs
The beeping stopped but the
smell of smoke
lingered and I wondered if
the rest of dinner was
lost. If we'd
still be eating roast beef
or if Dad would call
Chen's for wonton
soup and takeout for five
--
Creative Bloomings prompt 168 - mix-and-match muse
Tuesday, September 16, 2014
Unpacking the trunk
You look at me and
see a gray body bloated with memories,
wrinkled by the worries of
a life too well remembered
You see no beauty in
the bulk of my weight, hips that
have carried our children into
this dusty, drought-weary world
little ones who gaze at
their mother through elephant-thick eyelashes and
see only the fierce matronly
love beneath the rough hide
--
Creative Bloomings prompt #166 - animal house
see a gray body bloated with memories,
wrinkled by the worries of
a life too well remembered
You see no beauty in
the bulk of my weight, hips that
have carried our children into
this dusty, drought-weary world
little ones who gaze at
their mother through elephant-thick eyelashes and
see only the fierce matronly
love beneath the rough hide
--
Creative Bloomings prompt #166 - animal house
Wednesday, July 9, 2014
Man of the house
He was a desperate man,
a child really,
broken and sad, left to
raise three children when he
could barely take
care of himself
She was a broken child
desperate for a
man to care for her
but always left carrying
the burden of
caring for herself
--
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
Always tomorrow
"I love you in the future," he
says, believing his own words as
he kisses me on the forehead
like a real lover would
--
Creative Bloomings Micro Poetry - Another Short Japanese Form?
says, believing his own words as
he kisses me on the forehead
like a real lover would
--
Creative Bloomings Micro Poetry - Another Short Japanese Form?
Nachtmusik
A nylon tent
can keep out
skunks and bears
can keep in
the warmth of
two intermingled bodies
let in the
smell of wet
pine and trap
the smell of
damp socks and
musty sleeping bags
but our flimsy
fabric walls cannot
keep out the
surrounding symphony of
crickets and creeks
that ring in
our ears as
we fall asleep
to at night
--
July PAD Day 5 - did you hear that?
can keep out
skunks and bears
can keep in
the warmth of
two intermingled bodies
let in the
smell of wet
pine and trap
the smell of
damp socks and
musty sleeping bags
but our flimsy
fabric walls cannot
keep out the
surrounding symphony of
crickets and creeks
that ring in
our ears as
we fall asleep
to at night
--
July PAD Day 5 - did you hear that?
Monday, July 7, 2014
Man on the moon
Does the man
on the moon
cry for us?
Does he hide
his phosphorescent face
behind stiff hands
and wonder why
he must always
light the way?
Does he face
our blue world
and lean away
wishing he could
hide from our
stiff smiles and
wandering eyes, wishing
man could see
his own light?
--
July PAD Day 4 - night lights over the lake
on the moon
cry for us?
Does he hide
his phosphorescent face
behind stiff hands
and wonder why
he must always
light the way?
Does he face
our blue world
and lean away
wishing he could
hide from our
stiff smiles and
wandering eyes, wishing
man could see
his own light?
--
July PAD Day 4 - night lights over the lake
Greased up
Inspired by the first "summer" song that came to mind ... "Summer Lovin'" from Grease
The scent of sunscreen
always makes me think
of bikinis and boys
the salty sea air
and wet swimsuits
a lubricant for lust
as eyes scan the
sand for some sexy
smile full of promise
--
July PAD Day 3 - in the summertime (music)
The scent of sunscreen
always makes me think
of bikinis and boys
the salty sea air
and wet swimsuits
a lubricant for lust
as eyes scan the
sand for some sexy
smile full of promise
--
July PAD Day 3 - in the summertime (music)
A step in the right direction?
I am too young
to know that this
land is ancient
maybe even sacred
and that my footsteps
stir my ancestor's souls
beneath me
I am too blind
to see that this
river has wound its
way through the lives
of my mother's mother's mothers,
women and children
who lived off this land
and built this world
beneath me
I am too wise
not to understand that these
footsteps I'm making
are miles from
my ancestors' paths
and this land will crumble
beneath me
--
July PAD Day 2 - discovery / bop form
to know that this
land is ancient
maybe even sacred
and that my footsteps
stir my ancestor's souls
beneath me
I am too blind
to see that this
river has wound its
way through the lives
of my mother's mother's mothers,
women and children
who lived off this land
and built this world
beneath me
I am too wise
not to understand that these
footsteps I'm making
are miles from
my ancestors' paths
and this land will crumble
beneath me
--
July PAD Day 2 - discovery / bop form
Sunday, July 6, 2014
April PAD results ...
Super proud poem mom for a very short poem of mine (and when are they not short?), When Smoke Gets in Your Eyes, making the Top 10 list of this year's April PAD for Day 3.
It's my first time participating in a couple of years, so it's definitely an honor to make the cut ... again!
As Robert says:
The poets who’ve made those top 10 lists should be extremely happy with their work. I read through more than 21,000 comments and 5,600 pages of poems and encouragement.
Only 300 of those made the top 10 lists–or less than 1.4%. In other words, around 1 poem for every 100 comments. That’s crazy!
To be named winner, of course, is barely one-tenth of one percent.
It's my first time participating in a couple of years, so it's definitely an honor to make the cut ... again!
As Robert says:
The poets who’ve made those top 10 lists should be extremely happy with their work. I read through more than 21,000 comments and 5,600 pages of poems and encouragement.
Only 300 of those made the top 10 lists–or less than 1.4%. In other words, around 1 poem for every 100 comments. That’s crazy!
To be named winner, of course, is barely one-tenth of one percent.
Pismo Beach
Inspired by summer family vacations spent in the sand dunes of Pismo Beach and Big Sur
We spent afternoons
rolling down mountains of sand
laughing as we
tumbled like logs,
all limbs and heavy trunks,
crashing our way
through the salty
air and the slow, thick
stick of vacation
flying through timelessness
ever-closer toward the cold embrace
of the Pacific
and the long
wet ride home
--
July PAD Day 1 - camping memory
We spent afternoons
rolling down mountains of sand
laughing as we
tumbled like logs,
all limbs and heavy trunks,
crashing our way
through the salty
air and the slow, thick
stick of vacation
flying through timelessness
ever-closer toward the cold embrace
of the Pacific
and the long
wet ride home
--
July PAD Day 1 - camping memory
Sunday, June 22, 2014
Beauty crowds me ...
a lovely stranger pressing his
skin against mine
in the crowded
subway car at rush hour,
nudging me ever so slightly
during the curves
of my commute
as if to remind me
not to forget
he is there
--
Creative Bloomings prompt 160: Emily Dickinson
skin against mine
in the crowded
subway car at rush hour,
nudging me ever so slightly
during the curves
of my commute
as if to remind me
not to forget
he is there
--
Creative Bloomings prompt 160: Emily Dickinson
Tuesday, May 27, 2014
Refuse
Mom never thought
the house was clean enough.
Because it wasn't.
Dad collected newspapers
and paper scraps he might
need some day.
Piles of randomness
gathered in every corner of
every single room
waiting to be
sorted through or purged once
and for all.
She'd secretly thin
the stacks and toss the
abandoned items that
filled our garage
into the outside recycle bins
on trash day.
He'd rage when
he realized that things were
missing, even though
he couldn't tell
you what had disappeared or
how long ago.
Dad clung to
those scraps as if they
were long-held memories,
cherished moments stolen
right from his chubby hands,
clinging as tightly
as a child
holding their security blanket and
begging you to
let it go.
--
Poetic Bloomings Memoir Project: Part 3: Welcome Home
the house was clean enough.
Because it wasn't.
Dad collected newspapers
and paper scraps he might
need some day.
Piles of randomness
gathered in every corner of
every single room
waiting to be
sorted through or purged once
and for all.
She'd secretly thin
the stacks and toss the
abandoned items that
filled our garage
into the outside recycle bins
on trash day.
He'd rage when
he realized that things were
missing, even though
he couldn't tell
you what had disappeared or
how long ago.
Dad clung to
those scraps as if they
were long-held memories,
cherished moments stolen
right from his chubby hands,
clinging as tightly
as a child
holding their security blanket and
begging you to
let it go.
--
Poetic Bloomings Memoir Project: Part 3: Welcome Home
Tuesday, May 20, 2014
If I had a hammer ...
She was a fierce little girl
determined to tie her own shoes
and make her own way
"I can do it by myself,"
she'd declare, as if Mom and
Dad had nothing to offer
Stomping into the street in her
pink overalls, plastic hammer in hand,
ready to fix the world
--
Poetic Bloomings Memoir Project Part 2: Look what I did!
determined to tie her own shoes
and make her own way
"I can do it by myself,"
she'd declare, as if Mom and
Dad had nothing to offer
Stomping into the street in her
pink overalls, plastic hammer in hand,
ready to fix the world
--
Poetic Bloomings Memoir Project Part 2: Look what I did!
Thursday, May 1, 2014
The last straw
Oh how I'd love to
save my teeth
from the cold clack of
ice cubes crashing against my
dental work. But
you took the last straw.
--
April PAD Day 25 - last straw
save my teeth
from the cold clack of
ice cubes crashing against my
dental work. But
you took the last straw.
--
April PAD Day 25 - last straw
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
An eye for an eye
He closes his eyes and
tries to forget
all the times it was someone
else's eyes closed
forever in front of him
--
April PAD Day 30 - calling it a day
tries to forget
all the times it was someone
else's eyes closed
forever in front of him
--
April PAD Day 30 - calling it a day
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
Fool's gold
Sometimes I see her
at the corner of
those deep brown eyes
in the flecks of
gold flashing like ore
in a miner's pan
beckoning you back into
the arms of a
love as cold and
dangerous as those High
Sierra rivers and as
fleeting as the boomtowns
left in the wake
of men's search for
their happily ever after
--
April PAD Day 27 - monster
at the corner of
those deep brown eyes
in the flecks of
gold flashing like ore
in a miner's pan
beckoning you back into
the arms of a
love as cold and
dangerous as those High
Sierra rivers and as
fleeting as the boomtowns
left in the wake
of men's search for
their happily ever after
--
April PAD Day 27 - monster
The settlement
Before we settled
into our own corners
of the house
walking past each
other in the hallways
and politely chewing
our dinners at
the table each night
we filled this
place with so
much laughter that we
thought it might
just lift us
away from the lives
we have now
--
April PAD Day 28 - settled
into our own corners
of the house
walking past each
other in the hallways
and politely chewing
our dinners at
the table each night
we filled this
place with so
much laughter that we
thought it might
just lift us
away from the lives
we have now
--
April PAD Day 28 - settled
The science of magic
Anyone who's seen
the universe unfold
beneath the lens
of a microscope
knows there is
magic all around
--
April PAD Day 29 - realistic or magical
the universe unfold
beneath the lens
of a microscope
knows there is
magic all around
--
April PAD Day 29 - realistic or magical
Saturday, April 26, 2014
Waterworks
I've never been one
to dip my toe
into the shallow end
I'd rather feel the
cool rush of slick
on skin as I
sink into a weightless
world buzzing in my
ears with quiet wonder
--
April PAD Day 26 - water
to dip my toe
into the shallow end
I'd rather feel the
cool rush of slick
on skin as I
sink into a weightless
world buzzing in my
ears with quiet wonder
April PAD Day 26 - water
Wednesday, April 23, 2014
Longitude
I'm not sure
where I am
on the map
as if life
could ever be
navigated that way
the only latitude
I need is
to be freed
from my own
expectations of where
I ought to
be by now
--
April PAD Day 23 - location
where I am
on the map
as if life
could ever be
navigated that way
the only latitude
I need is
to be freed
from my own
expectations of where
I ought to
be by now
--
April PAD Day 23 - location
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
Full glass
It's hard to see the
glass as half
full or empty when it's
filled with the
blood of those you've loved
--
April PAD Day 22 - optimistic or pessimistic
glass as half
full or empty when it's
filled with the
blood of those you've loved
--
April PAD Day 22 - optimistic or pessimistic
Monday, April 21, 2014
Ink blot
There are nights
when I look up to
see the sky
dripping black and blue
like an ink pen
that's exploded in
a shirt pocket ...
which makes me think
of those NASA nerds,
whose job it is
to stare at the
sky, and who poorly they're
portrayed in every movie
--
Socks don't suck
Lay in bed
Consider getting up
Cry if you feel like it
Acknowledge the anger
Stare at the ceiling
Remember what it was like
when she was still in bed next to you
Remember that she is now in
bed with someone else
Fight the numbness
Try to feel anything
Close your eyes
Consider staying here all day
Instead sit up and put on your socks
Walk down the hall
glad for the cushion against
the cold hardwoods in the morning
--
April PAD Day 21 - back to basics
Consider getting up
Cry if you feel like it
Acknowledge the anger
Stare at the ceiling
Remember what it was like
when she was still in bed next to you
Remember that she is now in
bed with someone else
Fight the numbness
Try to feel anything
Close your eyes
Consider staying here all day
Instead sit up and put on your socks
Walk down the hall
glad for the cushion against
the cold hardwoods in the morning
--
April PAD Day 21 - back to basics
Thicker than blood
You say you don't know
who your family is
that you were
given away
or
taken by
those afraid your
mother was unfit to
love you like we could
---
April PAD Day 20 - family
who your family is
that you were
given away
or
taken by
those afraid your
mother was unfit to
love you like we could
---
April PAD Day 20 - family
Friday, April 18, 2014
Whether vain
She liked to think that
she went wherever
the wind happened to take her
blowing like a leaf into
bars and bathroom
stalls with any man who
glanced her way and made
her feel like
she might actually be beautiful
---
April PAD Day 18 - weather
she went wherever
the wind happened to take her
blowing like a leaf into
bars and bathroom
stalls with any man who
glanced her way and made
her feel like
she might actually be beautiful
---
April PAD Day 18 - weather
Culture clash
We clash like
the mixed pattern trend that's
all the rage right now
plaids and stripes
and polka dots just don't
make any more sense than
our desire to
idolize human beings whose sole
job is to deceive us
--
April PAD Day 17 - pop culture
the mixed pattern trend that's
all the rage right now
plaids and stripes
and polka dots just don't
make any more sense than
our desire to
idolize human beings whose sole
job is to deceive us
--
April PAD Day 17 - pop culture
Wednesday, April 16, 2014
Forget me not
Some would say it was
yours to give.
You probably would have said
the same thing.
But I would give anything
to forget you,
to un-remember your life slipping
through my hands
in a place so damn
far from home.
--
April PAD Day 16 - elegy
yours to give.
You probably would have said
the same thing.
But I would give anything
to forget you,
to un-remember your life slipping
through my hands
in a place so damn
far from home.
--
April PAD Day 16 - elegy
To the rescue
The castle walls
of fairy tales and fantasy
have no place
in the bedrooms
of little girls who will
one day wonder
why no one
is coming to save them.
She'll build her
own walls for lovers to
climb when she
learns that no
one is coming to her
rescue and one
day she must
learn to save herself.
--
April PAD Day 15 - love or anti-love
of fairy tales and fantasy
have no place
in the bedrooms
of little girls who will
one day wonder
why no one
is coming to save them.
She'll build her
own walls for lovers to
climb when she
learns that no
one is coming to her
rescue and one
day she must
learn to save herself.
--
April PAD Day 15 - love or anti-love
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
The hunting
We teach them to hunt
packs of brothers
praying they won't have to
use what they've learned, but
knowing full well
that one day they will
kill without hesitation
and hope they
never hunger for that power
--
April PAD Day 13 - animal
packs of brothers
praying they won't have to
use what they've learned, but
knowing full well
that one day they will
kill without hesitation
and hope they
never hunger for that power
--
April PAD Day 13 - animal
If I Were Your Heart
Saturday, April 12, 2014
City of Angels
navigating the mazes
of one-way streets and skyscrapers
we are the heartbeat
--
April PAD Day 12 - city
of one-way streets and skyscrapers
we are the heartbeat
--
April PAD Day 12 - city
Building a stable life
My grandpa died still broken-hearted from the betrayal he felt by his country. He was born in California, fought in WWII, and sent to the Midwest with the rest of the dirty Japs American had come to despise and fear. He met Grandma there, and they came back to California to make a pretty great future for themselves and their five kids. But he never forgot his time in those camps.
Grandma stroked my hair
as I lay in her lap,
running her fingers through
the thick black
courseness passed down
from our ancient samurai ancestors.
She smiled and gazed
off into the sky,
staring at some long-forgotten
landscape of her
youth, murmuring more
to herself than to me,
"It will all be OK, child."
She had seen the stables
of the camps, finely
dressed women corralled like
common livestock, chins
held high, stubborn
as mules clinging to their dignity.
"It will all be OK, child,"
her mama whispered
into her ear under the gaze of guards
who saw them as mere
animals cluttering the barren landscape,
forgetting their hearts still
beat with samurai blood.
--
April PAD Day 10 - future
Grandma stroked my hair
as I lay in her lap,
running her fingers through
the thick black
courseness passed down
from our ancient samurai ancestors.
She smiled and gazed
off into the sky,
staring at some long-forgotten
landscape of her
youth, murmuring more
to herself than to me,
"It will all be OK, child."
She had seen the stables
of the camps, finely
dressed women corralled like
common livestock, chins
held high, stubborn
as mules clinging to their dignity.
"It will all be OK, child,"
her mama whispered
into her ear under the gaze of guards
who saw them as mere
animals cluttering the barren landscape,
forgetting their hearts still
beat with samurai blood.
--
April PAD Day 10 - future
Thursday, April 10, 2014
The perfect storm
The hardest thing to learn
as a parent
is when to be the
umbrella
and when to
walk behind and let them
fall into that puddle
alone
--
April PAD Day 9 - shelter
as a parent
is when to be the
umbrella
and when to
walk behind and let them
fall into that puddle
alone
--
April PAD Day 9 - shelter
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
The brewery
My dad drank too much.
He shot bourbon at bars
and barbed insults at home.
The anger brewed inside him,
a biting mash of memories
aging in rows of barrels
running from breast to bowel,
pickling his insides as he
forced us each to drink
the poison of his past.
--
April PAD Day 8 - peaceful or violent
He shot bourbon at bars
and barbed insults at home.
The anger brewed inside him,
a biting mash of memories
aging in rows of barrels
running from breast to bowel,
pickling his insides as he
forced us each to drink
the poison of his past.
--
April PAD Day 8 - peaceful or violent
War ... what is it good for?
I will never understand why
people think that
violence can bring about peace
--
April PAD Day 8 - violent or peaceful
people think that
violence can bring about peace
--
April PAD Day 8 - violent or peaceful
Monday, April 7, 2014
Frozen in time
You say that
she's ancient history
but here I
am chipping away
at the rock
hard sediment encasing
your fossilized heart
--
April PAD Day 5 - discovery
she's ancient history
but here I
am chipping away
at the rock
hard sediment encasing
your fossilized heart
--
April PAD Day 5 - discovery
Mirror, mirror
Searching to find myself
reflected in the eyes
of strangers
unwilling to stare at
the stranger behind my
own eyes
--
April PAD Day 7 - self-portrait
reflected in the eyes
of strangers
unwilling to stare at
the stranger behind my
own eyes
--
April PAD Day 7 - self-portrait
Night life
Six stars are
shining through the inky blue
ether of evening
battling the buzzing,
happy haze of city life,
where the lights
never go out,
and downtown domestics always do;
where screens glow
from every wall
and in every pocket as
we search for
meaning at the
speed of 4G two inches
from our faces
and forget that
all the answers are always
right above us
if we'd just
take a moment to breathe
and look up
--
April PAD Day 6 - night
shining through the inky blue
ether of evening
battling the buzzing,
happy haze of city life,
where the lights
never go out,
and downtown domestics always do;
where screens glow
from every wall
and in every pocket as
we search for
meaning at the
speed of 4G two inches
from our faces
and forget that
all the answers are always
right above us
if we'd just
take a moment to breathe
and look up
--
April PAD Day 6 - night
Friday, April 4, 2014
Since we both like fruit
We ran into each other
at the market
poking and prodding the pears,
assessing them like the men
in our lives,
drawn in by the promise
of sweetness while tenderly pressing
to uncover the
hidden bruises that always seem
to spoil the moments we
long to savor
--
April PAD Day 4 - since (blank)
at the market
poking and prodding the pears,
assessing them like the men
in our lives,
drawn in by the promise
of sweetness while tenderly pressing
to uncover the
hidden bruises that always seem
to spoil the moments we
long to savor
--
April PAD Day 4 - since (blank)
Thursday, April 3, 2014
In the beginning
I was god
basking in your nakedness
molding the man
I wanted you to be
as I breathed life
into a dying love
--
PAD Day 1 - beginning or ending
basking in your nakedness
molding the man
I wanted you to be
as I breathed life
into a dying love
--
PAD Day 1 - beginning or ending
Treading water
I carried you
held your head above water
when you were
drowning in misery
I drowned with you
unable to float us both
when the burden
you carried sunk
us both
--
April PAD Day 2 - voyage
held your head above water
when you were
drowning in misery
I drowned with you
unable to float us both
when the burden
you carried sunk
us both
--
April PAD Day 2 - voyage
When smoke gets in your eyes
How could I
see the smoke signals you
were sending me
see the smoke signals you
were sending me
when I didn't
even notice that our home
was on fire
even notice that our home
was on fire
--
Sunday, March 9, 2014
No place like home
She sleeps in my bed
missing her own
but glad for the warmth
missing her own
but glad for the warmth
of my Egyptian cotton sheets
and the neutral
Target comforter set I shared
and the neutral
Target comforter set I shared
with the ex-boyfriend who left
me to play
house with a neighbor lady.
me to play
house with a neighbor lady.
She thanks me for my
generosity, not knowing
I would burn that bed
generosity, not knowing
I would burn that bed
and flee this tortured place,
run from this
incestuous den of communal pain
run from this
incestuous den of communal pain
and the home built together,
where any memories
of warmth have long died.
where any memories
of warmth have long died.
---
Thursday, March 6, 2014
Runaway
A little girl came across our lawn
and knocked on our door. A pawn
no more. She was gone.
Past the dawn.
Flew.
Just a baby, innocence foregone,
she lay on my couch and yawned,
"No more." She was gone
past the dawn
to
late the next morning. She yelled, "Come on!"
when she woke. A little fawn
no more. She was gone.
Past the dawn.
New.
--
Creative Bloomings - Triquint
and knocked on our door. A pawn
no more. She was gone.
Past the dawn.
Flew.
Just a baby, innocence foregone,
she lay on my couch and yawned,
"No more." She was gone
past the dawn
to
late the next morning. She yelled, "Come on!"
when she woke. A little fawn
no more. She was gone.
Past the dawn.
New.
--
Creative Bloomings - Triquint
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