Just to be clear:
I want a nice house
without the mortgage.
I want more money
without the work.
I want to lose weight
without the diet.
I was a sports car
that’s good in the winter.
I even want the toddler,
without the tantrums.
(4/3/2019)
Archive for August, 2019
When I die,
the sound of your footsteps
will lead me to heaven.
Whenever I think of you
they’re there
echoing through my memories
stronger than your voice.
(4/3/2019)
A forest of cries and tears
has grown up here
between the bars if a crib.
How can I live
when your sadness
breaks me so completely?
I would go to you,
cuddle you,
soothe you-
but I am done in,
tired, hungry
ready to be me
independent
alone
to fill up my cup
so I am ready
tomorrow
when you Wake Up.
(4/1/2019)
I am lost.
I admit.
I am wayward
wondering
wandering
alone.
I am closed up-
shut like a door on the world.
I want to be open.
I want to see.
The Goddamn Glory
of life
of the universe.
I want to bring my best,
give my all
but still have
some of me left.
But is this just another word
for greed?
(2/28/2019)
That light-
bright in my head-
the black trees.
A Cold Snap.
A Deep Freeze.
The knee deep fields
laid out in a patchwork
from Aunt Linda’s house.
The sudden storm-
sharing a fiting room
as one shade of gray after another
rolls across the sky.
The tall mountains of white
lit up by the headlights.
The magic
of Christmas snow.
(1/11/2019)
I see the world in layers.
If there are infinite realities-
if each decision
forks off a new one-
is it so strange to think
it’s all happening at once?
For me
the present is
superimposed on the past.
Even as I walk here,
I have walked here before.
In the silent room
he is till on the phone,
playing spider solitaire,
yelling my name.
It is all happening
somewhere.
Somewhere
he is not gone.
(11/8/2018)
I do alright.
I do okay.
At least for half of the day.
Then I droop-
I drop.
Exhaustion
I try to keep it in myself.,
Nobody cares
if your 18 month old
wakes before 5 AM.
Nobody cares
if you’d rather be in bed.
(10/19/2018)
I feel like a ghost-
my face pale in the mirror.
Do you hear all the noise I’m making?
Do you even know I’m here?
(10/11/2018)
The pain,
both sharp and dull,
blurring my edges
and blinding me.
Still those little hands
reach out-
on the way to bed,
left at daycare-
and that’s what hurts
most of all.
(9/25/2018)
It comes in many forms-
sometimes the feeling
I’ve left my keys or phone,
sometimes a deep
panicked ache.
And I realize it’s you-
that for just a moment
you’ve slipped beyond
the curtain of my conscious
and then came rushing back
full-face
to the front of my mind
(9/21/2018)
Beastly Little Poems 