Category: Uncategorized
-
sparkle
the picture has been cut down. something or someone cropped out. you can’t help but wonder what or who when you look at it. it’s likely the young child and older man holding her are the second things you’d notice even as whomever cut the picture down may have been trying to zoom in; to…
-
january 19th
i’m reading again. books. sixty-four last year. sixty-eight the year before that. i like tracking things. it helps remind me that i’m here. that i do exist in some real & tangible way. or, in case i have to prove my existence to someone else again someday, i can march right down to the local…
-
mid-winter daydream
bits of leaves left behind chase pavement and each other like school children playing tag they run circles at my feet while above mottled tawny evergreens hang on to their pine cones like ambered icicles in a cerulean sky- january is running low, coffee sounds like a good idea, the packing dream woke me today,…
-
out of touch
never mind a kitchendisturbed or cleandulled abrasions stuck oatmeal scratching steely cut grease spots too the cloudy water is collecting in the dishpan againorder follows chaosfollows orderfollows chaosthe table belongs to the housebelongs to the bank, i payrivers fly like stars that swimrecoursing through oceanic endlessnessthe significance of their insignificancemine too, because wings.a girl without…
-
the january wind
blows steady and sharp and truefinding me at dusk, dwindling & staying hidden in the pile of onyx hours thereafterat daybreak it is there again; alive & sure, astute. this manner of wind asks that you pay. attention. to. it.give it your secret rumination, allow it to press you forward, stand taller because of itchange…
-
grief (or nine christmases)
a winter ripe orange use to sleep at the forgotten foot of his christmas stocking each year, mine too. my sweet boy doesn’t remember his first orange, his first christmas. not his second or third even too (i do) will he remember this one? his tenth; a bumpy round fidget ball where the firm slick…
-
seven days in december
the potpie settles and sticks beneath crispy potato plumps. their shoes squeak like new chew toys on scratched hardwood. the metal tree is clumped with the light of 44 honeyed candle combs. the crumbled cookie tastes of bitter chocolate and butter in their mouths. the gristled sky refused to let down its stubborn snow. his…
-
sugar coat
she was smiling when she saidshe wasn’t gonna sugarcoat it anymore because she didn’t have tobecause they’d settled the lawsuit because she’d lost her job but regained her soul;i’m paraphrasing but you catch the gravity of the situation because you’ve been her before too, haven’t you-pushed hard against that stitch in your side from the…
-
flying coach
they think i am a problem that can be fixedlike the leaky roof above their lofty headsthey believe the tile i have lost can be replaced-it occurs to so few that there are irreplaceable parts “we were just kids” she lamentslike it hasn’t been me inside of this body the entire timelike it wasn’t me…
-
dreamer
once upon an endtime tiltedand stood stillgave wayto a ripe, ruby moonhowling to herselfshe fell underfound newand unusual waysto forgetand rememberat oncesun-drenched leaveslovely at her feetseemed to sweepand whispernot thisnot nowafter allso, she left the windto fill her copper-pennied locksand her tin-scrubbed soulwith earthand dandelionsand things to considerwhy did you come here?what do you know?is…