uninevitable

so much is lost
to wrong time and place
too soon
too late
and parallels
that can never touch
regardless
of proximity
or mutual
understanding

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here I am

I’m
stealing
garbage from
your dumpster
finding less
and
less
each day
feeding off scraps
of moments
discarded
for so long now
I’m thinningstay
in substance
and resolve
It must be why
you barely notice me
anymore

hedges

I want to float on the lake
and hear the city buzz by
instead of this fly
trapped in my car
We’ve both made a wrong turn
this time

In my brain
I rearrange
the signs to spell benign
though I’m inclined
to engage in acts
more outrageous
than partially blinding myself

I pull down the visor against
the light of insight
begrudging better judgement
I think of you in small doses
half of a half of a half
to the impossible measure
where a breath’s breadth
from the treasure
I’ll lunge fully into you
and again misconstrue
all your eyes implored
until I’m lost once more

And if only my wages
were as high as the hedges
the man in the Hendrix shirt trims
Then I’d know how to fix
this mess I’m in
Instead I wonder why the rich
have streets with no sidewalks or names
And if my accent is as lame
as the woman on my phone
directing me home
when I’d rather stay lost just the same

stasis

Living is what I do
When I’m not thinking of you
I’m often in stasis these days
The sun warms my shoulders
Into feeling less old than
My bark-like skin declares

I spend my days exposed
Like light can appease thirst
And bring life to dried dirt
But it won’t
And I’m left fiddling
With thoughts too belittling
Crumbling last year’s leaves

Branch bared and limb cracked
Waiting for my spine to snap
I keep twisting
Reaching back
To rake up debris from the past
And find a match to light it
Just to keep warm through the night

outlines

A harmless thrill
caused a costly spill
A stain we hide
and secretly reframe
calling it found art
Still we are compelled
every so often to hover above
and read its shape
for omens or meaning
But it only foretells
how time and use
will meld it into the fabric
of the stories we will weave
to cover it
And no one will know
how it shaped them
And how it changed us

denouement 

Where wonder reigned
habit remains
and memory’s stained
with melodic refrains
dissolved to static
attractions now
only distractions
unworthy of abstraction
and words just
stochastic noise

Still, I stand poised
against a slow demise
holding out for a surprise
ending

root mother unearthed

Mother of mothers
with generations
nestled in the crooks and folds
of arms, skin,
swinging from gnarled joints
shaping wisdom with your hands smelling of soil
An unbreakable force of time and ages
Etched into your stern face

But I know how that face
longed to smile in wonder
I know why you doted on that doctor
There was nothing licentious in your attention
His knowledge unearthed a cavern where there was room
To hear yourself speak as someone other than that myth
To be proud of something other than the accomplishments of those you bore
To laugh, dance
and shout your name
The one they discarded
when you were grafted to the family tree
To carve their history into your skin

degrees of magnitude

You say when you think of me
it’s with nostalgia
a surreptitious smile
spreads across your flushing face

When I think of you
frustration, despair, shame and desire
fuse into a howl of longing
I grimace and cringe

with teeth clenched
waiting for each wave of pain
to finish pounding me
into the dirt by degrees

saving grace

and when our wired limbs
crossed and snagged on intent
were done releasing their tensions
you lay, hair frayeď
mouth splàyed open
with no remorse
for the stains that drained
deodorant clumped
under arms raised
without grace
to take more space
than earned
I took in the waste
grateful for the image
that would serve
to move me past and on
once you would wake
to be so much less
than what I made of you

daily post: patina

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