come to see

today i have come to see
a pain away and into
for some mysterious shift has occurred
a change so swift
i have to double check.
i can take myself away from it, and i can put myself back into it
but i can.
and i realize that.
i have chosen.
frighteningly close to giving in to heartbreak.
now is the time to twine into learning and pain and loving this game and filling the holes with sunshine to burst out into the winter of my life.
the solitude and the introspective me
this
i have come to see.

chunky lentil soup

regret like the lumps of underdone carrots remain in my mouth for far too long.
this extra lung of pain cannot just dissipate, it ruminates to the contrary.
oh no
oh no
sometimes we dig our own graves.
i wish i had wanted to eat this soup as much as i wanted to make it.

the flowers all pop up in rows without me
and they don't even know.
that this fame and glory and guts has all been for naught.
i don't want to win.
i just want to rewind,
to the place
where i was in that brief moment when our eyes matched
with windows finally open to souls that were full
and on the same page.
for that one moment.

but i can't get that back
and i can't sit around wanting that back.
because it is not my chair
it is not my window
it is only my soul that is left
frankly,
and i know this way well.
i have made my soup.
and now i must eat it.
tears and all.
oh,
if only they would come.

this heat

this heat reminds me of
the cold i felt this morning.
the crisp wind blew and friends came too
this morning on my face.
a heart so full of joy and wonder
dew frozen solid and saved just for me
to glance and to stare for as long as you stayed.
what a secret, what surprise i never did expect.
i hoped to hope and dared to dream but
snow,
here,
in austin?
TEXAS?

but i think the best thing about this cold heat
is that it still glows on my cheeks.  hours upon hours after we were together.
the outside and i.
if i could bring you in and hold you close, and always be with you i would.
but then i would never miss you.
and it's always nice to want you.
outside, i take it back.  i will appreciate you for what you are, but we can't always be together.  sometimes i have to sit in a comfy chair and sip something warm and tasty.  so thanks.  thanks for leaving me with a reminder of you on my cheeks.

the room

the room is endless and narrow

i feel the ceiling looking at me

this way is the only way to go

forward.

i have paused.

for far too long.

in front of a closed door

again.

why can't it be open?

why can't it be another door?

why can't it be a long time ago?

these doors are everywhere

they are all shut.

shit.

well, hm.

i will have to keep walking then.

because actually,

i want the door to swing open to ME

when i am not stopped

waiting

waiting

forever

staring

i want the air in the room

the light in the room

to GUSH with change and brillance

and fresh breath.

as the one opens!

to come chasing after me!

oh yes.

and i know it in my bones,

i have always known it will be so.

this room is long and wide open, carefree onwards saunter i.

allowed

allow yourself to hope.

for that day when you will go on a hike

with your husband and toddler.

allow yourself to hope.

for the moment when you realize your

fears won't be.

allow yourself to hope.

for the time when you show up with

someone else

no longer empty handed.

allow yourself to hope, filkins, because it won't be forever that you are here. and it hurts either way. let love in. let hope begin. let it stay.

crack open november

and let it breathe. like this book sitting in my hands

on my heart

written by one i know.

show me a part of your soul i can't handle and make it move the ground

this place is a new one

eager am i to turn off replay

and shove my depths into concentrating on your words.

a book is a feast for many enjoyed one at a time and spared not in the cloaked words of the past and present and future.

for this time is one we all will share and live through.

the tunnel narrows.

i turn off the computer.

and delve into the paper and ink.

oh, delicious.

experimental poetry (round 2)

frick

sick

celebrations of libations and moaning too far away and into the morning.

this emotion has lent itself one too many times

and i can see it to the door, thank you.

shucks

pucks

of ice and lollipops shoot across the yard in the middle of late summer

what might be a brief fall

flying through the cheese balls into the mouths of the waiting birds so patiently sitting.

rots

lots

of empty ones and new ones, yards in disarray and tidy fashion grass to fence to grass.

shower the other with care as much as you water your own or at the very least

relish it once a year with the christening of bare toes snuggled in the depths of its comfort.

batch out

when these dollars and cents add up to

be

the sum total of my life's time

up to this

point

i find another reason to pause

and search for the best.

the very best.

what i have before me is nothing less than the unpredictable and

potentially very full life of

living.

alone it is magnanimity.

with god it is magnificent even beyond my comprehension.

and this is why

i will never

can never allow myself to go it without the spirit which made me and lives in me still

this weakness, penchant for half-assed living due to it's easy nature

lends oneself to believe, nay, be clouded with, the vision of success.

but i have only succeeded when i have failed to live a life cloistered

a life uneven

with the keel

of the path

or the soft hewn planks of the stern

worn by the worried and frantic pacing during the storms.

nary a hair on my head goes uncounted.

these pennies and dimes will show me why

it is never the end or the change that results

but the moment in which i give it away.

let it never be me that settles.

for less.

than the best.

ink on a roll

start out raw and tiny

unsure and hopeful that i will turn

eventually

into this giant thing i desperately want to

be.

a small ball of string

that starts tipping, then slowly rocking and

gently

on it's way to becoming

the biggest

ball of collected life stor(ies)y

ever in my history.

frankly my dear, i don't give a damn.

it's only ever been

about pushing

being pushed

into the shape

whatever it is

of something i am inside but cannot be

on my own.

i keep discovering little corners and bits of geometry

that i didn't know fit into my structure

but do.

oh, so well.

these sharp angles that keep poking out are preventing me from rolling,

but then,

i am finding

the stopping and slowing

is all this ink needs

to flow life into these dry bones.

green as a dandelion leaf.

dry spell

crackle

and spackle

when you just can't stop to breathe

spit

fire

and roll on the ground

for when you can't blink you need not hesitate

halt and lay down

lay it all down.

take a nap, take a rest, take a break.

rest up in the warm covers and the security that

god's got your back

and your front and your everything uncertain.

he's in the picture, he is the picture.

lord, when all i can think about are my failures you give me rest, peace, persuade me yet again with just a glance

that i am not lovely because of what i do. no not in the least.

i am loved by you and created to bring all that you have shoved in my soul to life simply because of what you are.

this war that wages in the blink of an eye in the conflict of middle battleground ceases when i drop my gun and raise my surrender

for you are always ready to jump in my stead

lead me away from the middle and give me perspective.

let the things i think on be noble and pure and a delight to your eyes, god. all of them.

i think,

therefore i am.

promise me this dry spell won't last, father. whatever it is, just promise me you'll be here speaking still.

promise.

fuzzy

when you are loose so am i

who is it i have become in this evening, this time of less remembering?

memories that will not fade for me, but perhaps they will for you.

oh the odd freedom i feel, though clearly it is not i who has partaken

but i know this feeling

have felt it many times before with anyone who has

and it is strange that i should have shed the inhibitions yet

i have had none of what you have.

oh, we have switched places: you are the one talking loudly and about a myriad of subjects or at least one and quite in depth, ok or at least breadth, and it is i who has moved into the realm of bossiness and silliness and riskiness.

that is a lot of other ness' that i don't normally let out.

let go

to be

and embrace these thoughts of loose tongue.

why?

because i am always the designated one

because i have made sure i am

i don't want to miss this lesson.

not at your expense, but for my own benefit.

i am selfish, really, if you think about it.

to be free and no one will remember what i say

except me.

well, and god. but i think he likes it.

disrupted

i am not lonely yet we are not fanciful or starry eyed

this disruption is not too far away, in fact it is right in my face

see the look in my soul?

the window floats open on hinges always oiled

during the meeting i could tell you were coming

i knew the ground had shifted

how, i couldn't tell you

but then it surely had.

forever i have waited for this distinction

for words to come and go and be and be just so

that i do not know what they are

but that the truth must be spoken and if it is of the past present future the only thing that matters is that they are said

and in real time

not alone and sadly but with others who have not learned how to avoid patience having

and who listen and are with each other during everything. during life.

this disrupted notion is not contrived or a motion to move to a new place, new station

merely a grand scheme to move my contrite heart out of the cold and into the heat of the day

out of the shadows of just ho-hum and focus in the eye of the lens at the sun and risk my sight and my shutter and

disrupt.

as i have been

disrupted.

make the muscles of my face

grin.

again.

make me do it again.

this laughter that spills out

the anticipation of the next moment...

i have never been good at keeping secrets

and i can't keep this one.

all will know i wrote that, drew a line that looked like a cat when i meant to form a monkey

but it's ok

it's fine

a perfect evening was never had

but the muscles in my face

are stronger

as is the laughter in my soul.

so thank you friendsandstrangers

my cheer is due to you.

alphabet soup

fraught forlorn

eyes enter

near now

towards together.

yea, yell

mountains made

kids kairos

beauty besot.

stolen secrets

picture possession

laughter lightly

held higher.

awaken ardent

woeful wetness

crime committed

gregarious generosity.

fresh faces

and just like that

the night goes from

sad and pitiful

to understood and shared.

even though we haven't

spoken of what is on my

mind.

being with

with

with.

a friend like you.

new

and old.

always kind and forever

ready to understand...

makes this dark ache

go to another place

where

i am not staying.

you have taken me

from myself

and given me

you. streams of gratitude.

cold

if this is the way

of your cold finger

cold ear.

turn it away from me.

all that i have given and

all that i don't deserve,

all because i didn't want

you to be alone.

i can tell sometimes

you are afraid when

you're alone.

but there is a difference

between being along by

choice and being alone

because you cannot be with

others.

i think you have taken

the latter and made it

your reason.

but we both know

you are never alone.

and that is why you

are giving me the cold

shoulder. you don't want to see.

bedtime

amidst the laughter and the glances

music and the pain of close but not close enough just yet

we sit

and eat pancakes and wonder

'is this the way we make friends?'.

i have said often i speak more than i listen and i have

said

it

often.

lord.

make my ear one quick to listen

my heart a sponge for those i am around

make my arm a resting place for the weary

and this worthless back useful to carry those whose burdens outweigh them.

as a finger of you, god, let me lighten let me push

the corners of the frown into a hopeful glance.

make me a friend, father. one who truly jumps at the opportunity to BE with those that need to be WITHed.

i am anxious without you, and with you. i am heavy with the danger of letting my small mouth make the biggest blunder of all

by saying so much

that i fail to say anything

of love

of silence

of listening.

let's get together, yeah yeah yeah. why don't you and i combine?

not a whisper

wring the word

his name

from your lips, the gut wrenching sound of his suffering love

and desire for your heart pulling on your tongue as you speak.

this is the word

name

that showers you with life and shame

freedom and the way

he is, this man, this god

he is mine.

jesus.

i will not whisper his name, and i refuse to believe the only way you will hear me is with your ears.

but i will scream and fly with the word he is

and always has been

for me

and everyone ever made and unknown to the strength of this universe

but i will recognize.

that he is all there is.

this love i know only because he is, he died, he never gave me up, he lives.

i will pray

but never in a whisper

only in grace and ferocity will these words

names

leave my lips.

he strains to hear it all, and i know he will not forget me, never them he saw first, before the beginning.

fences

i know this is what i know

i can think and write at the same time

i feel connected again for the first time in months

i can't remember when

i tell you

when

i felt this involved

able to process and

think

hurt

forgive

understand

see the truth clearly and abolish the double-mindedness of the past.

for i cannot be of two hearts.

i must believe myself.

i must love myself.

i must forgive myself.

i must

listen

to the voice of god and pray blessings on those who hurt me, knowingly or blind.

he said it would be easy, he whispered, it would be natural, and fine and all i would really want

well, devil, it isn't, wasn't, won't be.

but.

i'm still going to listen to god and what he speaks over my life for he has turned this one,

this small life of power you will never know into one who is filled not with anger and hopelessness and division

but with love and prayerfulness and listening and showing up on just one side of the fence, not crouching in the middle like some town cat, prowling for the best piece of dinner, wavering at the slightest movement.

no.

i am steadfast in this: i will fail, i will trip. but i will not get up on that fence again, because it is in the crouching that i hide, it is in the hiding that i keep myself, it is in the keeping that i loose it all

because that kind of life is not lived at all, only broken and hoarded and wept over.

i will forgive myself for being so hard on myself. and i will love this side of the fence.

it is endless.

we are not

community

we are not in this alone

we cannot be.

it is not good.

when i sit and stare into the darkness for too long

by myself

it turns into all i can think about

all that surrounds me.

when i stretch out my hand

like those famous hands in that painting on the ceiling

i can feel you grip me tight

right

away with reassurance that you are there

with me

in the midst of everything.

pulling me out of

or you in, too

the darkness i have seen.

the willing heart of one ready to go into battle

for those they love

even when it is over something small.

that is truth, that is honor, that is confidence which

flows

about sharp and poignant like the surprise of a pomegranate.

friends.

we are not in this alone.

rocking down the aisle

is a someday thought, wish, hope.

right now

i am fully satisfied rocking

down the road

nodding my head

and scooping shoulders and shoving my neck this way

and that.

the music within and around isn't always the beat i want

but somehow, it morphs from the horrible

and tragic to the shared

pain of beauty that this road always holds.

turns into

curves into

the celebration that is the moment you get the call

or read those words that make you want to weep with relief

even though you're not a cry-er.

these things outweigh the negative

10 to 1.

or at least, keep you rocking down the road, not hoping for the end or when you have 

figured it all out and can control yourself at all times

and always say the right things

and think the right things

and never hesitate when you hit someone's parked car to leave your info on their window.

but keep pushing on to the everyday, because it is in that we learn

i learn

to lean

into the things that really matter

not traffic and money and being on time for everything,

because sometimes it's when you're on the back burner and walking 2 miles in three inch wedges

when you find it.

that spot. the one by the railroad tracks with the gorgeous sunflowers and beaming rails waiting for you

just there

around the bend.

today.  when you weren't even looking for it, and you were hot and cranky and stressed.  but it was perfect before you. and after you.  and with you.

like god, like little bits of god.  sunshine rain.

don't wait

the world is spinning

spinning way too fast

and i am hungry.

ready for the day

the spinning stops

and the plate is

passed

to me, with

eager anticipation to see

what i will create

with myself.

the dog barks

the smoke smells

this day like any other

is just the beginning

of the rest of my life.

this today is my

chance at greatness,

to do something

contribute

epic

battle laziness

apathy and suspicion of

mediocrity.

and jump in with the spin.

re-do!

the gruff responses that i shove

the harsh and short and 

clipped,

they all remind me of me when i am 

\distracted./

show me a pause button on the tv

the mute on the conversation in my book

the lovely rewind on the traffic light i ran

please just show me a way to make it so that i can listen to you

with all the love and attention you deserve,

and reply with sensical answers instead of 

"huh?"s and "yeah"s and "nope"s.

so that i can really

listen,

and not with 1/2 my focus.

i am frustrated with having to pause, but not because of you, because of 

me.

fading into new

as this once i thought i knew

is coming unfurled and all things

new

i am shown to be forever true

to what

i do not know.

for just then i think i have shown it too.

allegiance to my skin

this sheen i was born in

but never can quite fit

upon this frame of face and heart that shifts

so quickly i cannot catch it.

burn me up and inside out

for all this life i shan't comprehend 

the beauty that lies within.

these souls He has shaped.

el sunza

as i venture farther away from you

and back into the depths of the shallows

of my life before you

i feel the force of your love beckoning me

my heart

to stay.

i recall so vividly

what i could not see until i was far away from you

in another place, the spin cycle of a washing machine life i know now

that part of my soul that america has muted 

was heard by you, turned up! and validated into being

for the beings there live the way

i was created to

crave to

feel most myself in.

this life of people and simplicity and trash in the streets and lawns and love.

you are grasped in my open palm

beating

el sunza.

july fountain from the night

i went out to look at the moon

it had a secret to tell me.

but i couldn't understand,

it was so bright.

not even true though, not even right

because everyone knows the moon doesn't have it's own

only reflects

and this confused me.  i could see it

i sought it out to hear

but i wasn't really there.  i was trying to tell myself a secret.

that was a lie, but i found my way back around to the truth

it was a short trip to the moon

but i understand the way it pushes back at me sometimes

the words i throw are just filled with empty

and the moon knows better.

i went out to look at the moon.

and it saw me.

1232

one step forward

two steps back

this being stuck

unstuck

stuck again

really gets old.

mold

on my bread

because i forgot to eat it fast enough again.

this would not happen if i had more than me

to partake.

make me a sherry

and coke before i bust a rhyme that'll make you sing louder than me

my milkshake is better than yours.

i don't know why that song is stuck in my head

bed i sit on and think but not too hard

this is the worst i've written in a long time

but i'm posting it anyway because it

is my stream of consciousness and cannot be broken

until i get rid of this idea and 

put the junk in the trunk and close the lid

because it is way past my besttime my bedtime and this rhyme ain't doin it.

on to the apologies

do you know?  this one little mistake

is eating me alive.

the guilt could survive on very little

does not need to be fed often

or more than once, really.

it can be left alone and unattended

yet it will flourish

not like a flower

or a carrot

but like a weed

a prickly, defensive cacti.

it consumes the smallest part of me that holds onto

regret and shame and dishonor

that i have strung up around my neck like

some pretty pearls.

but these are not to be adorned

or adored

they are to be shunned; blatantly reminds me of the 

choices i have made

not in that one mistake

but in every moment after ruing the decision plucked from a thought line

made only of and for myself.

this place is ugly.

i want to leave.  

but the only way out is where i entered.

back

through the regret and into the room i should have sauntered bravely into

the harbor that holds difficulty and peace side by side.

i cannot choose the easy life.

i cannot ever change that.  sorrys cannot make it better, but maybe they can make me think

more, next time.  will that the thoughts on the line be about them.  the others.  the ones i love

claim to

hold claim to

and push the block of self out of the way.

only with your strength god, only in my weakness.

seen in my sleep

it was in a dream

that i started stringing and spooling

the lines along

composing

in my sleep.

i thought it a good one, magnificent even

worthy of the readers time, my own to put it down.

of course it slipped from the thread of my memory and  now

i am left bereft

of the thoughts i thought

feeling my way through this tunnel of dank sameness.

wishing

oh wishing

i could

remember

that poem

i composed in my sleep.

fluid motion

the surface of promise stretches

the length of this lane,

all of them.

i come here, to this place of calm

twice daily.

not always the same location, but the same place.

it is in my soul that i have missed

making space for an element i often neglect

for rubble stands in my path

and vague self-conscious reasoning echos in my head the busyness of the daily joe

throw

yourself into your 

work.argument.traffic.errands.lonliness.endlesse-mails

.gasolineprices.

and not the static calm of this place

this water

this being that envelops me and welcomes me back again.

nice to have you, it says.

don't you want to stay?

become a fish?  well

ok

yes

habit.

all you have to do is get in.

staying

leaving is out for now. 

which it tough.  

could have gone back to the mountains and worked this summer, but i felt rooted here.  like, i shouldn't pick up and go even though I could have, easily.  

so, here i sit.  

and wait.  

and am reminded constantly that i am a believer of the unseen, of the invisible yet tangible beyond belief.  

i am a liver of life in the only one i know who has ever truly lived.  

i am following one who loves me more than i can ever understand and always holds me in his hand even when i feel like i can't take anymore of this harsh life, because it is.  

but it is also beautiful.  

all so beautiful.

seville 3ooo

as these old keys click and the metal

clacks

and the words come flowing out.

as music from my head, my heart just

sits down on the paper

translucent

for all to see.

or at least one.

some letters and symbols are missing, the important ones are present

to translate for me the beauty of owning something

old

something partially bent and busted and used up and new

to me.

still lives on in the best of ways, the finest of uses

in the hands of the young and inexperienced.

i type as you would have, perhaps

o stranger who once owned this thing.

i am certain the joy oozes from each push of a letter

each carriage return,

the 'ding!' of the reminder

that this line can only be so long.

there are mistakes on nearly every line; at least every paragraph

and some seem fixable

but you can still see the wrong, just pushed harder over with the right.

thank you for this gift of old to young

time past to now.

you didn't know it

but i need it.

the cadence of your creation 

soothes my soul 

in a way i have not known in eons.

3ooo times the pleasure of a slow life

filled to the brim.

my grievous errors

1. i worry even though i'm not supposed to 
   
2. i speed when i know it is posted lower for a good reason
   
3. i laugh really loudly when the atmosphere is demure-like
   
4. i eat with my fingers when it is clearly silverware time
   
5. i do not make eye contact with creepy strangers who obviously want my attention
6. i swear without carefully checking to ensure a child-free environment
7. i use my typewriter when my roommate is trying to sleep
8. i procrastinate about little things
9. i do not pray as often as i want to
10. i take weeks to return some calls
11. i do all these things, knowingly.  i am a sad, sad little (wo)man.

BUT!  there is hope!  for tomorrow is another day, a fresh day.

free from my previous grievous errors.  what a chance, what an opportunity!

you know what i like?

when something turns out to be nothing.

really, i'll explain.

when that huge, monstrosity of a fog that has given you stress spots for days,

even made you avoid certain subjects or try on being diplomatic for a change.

that mysterious, heavy worry and frown upon your face, after all this time

turns out to be

nothing.

everything works out even better than you had hoped.

people cooperate and life runs smoothly for an hour.

the world keeps on turning.

and it is nothing.

which is wonderful.

what if

the walkers shake

and soft shoes tap

smooth pants and outfits all out dated

around the music go

dancing and shooting the stars and

start to make me wonder 

why

we are infatuated with youth

when it is the old who know the joy of living

who relish the moments

knowing

there might not be more.

none of us holds tomorrow

for a fragile grasp at life grips us all.

what if

old people made the music videos?

what if they showed us

how it's done?

let me never forget to stop and talk.

generations lost for fear and regret, shown up in a poll

of unimportant and noncommittal.

we are losing them by simply not choosing them

they are just like us.

celebrate the stages and the phases, each one.

i hope i may get old

or at the very least

truly live with those who are.

it is only

the breaking of the dawn

his body

this fraught will of iron feathers

my heart.

it is not the 

starving multitudes or the end of the light we call life.

it is only.

a job.

an occupation.

a paycheck.

it 

is

not

who i am.

shutter

whisp and whir the afternoon

clicking by the moments roll onto

a roll

and capture all the feelings in my fingertips

which sizzle with excitement

jumping the gun and proving

the point

and click!

the deed is done.

but what if i have done it wrong?

forgotten a smidgen of detail vital to the snip

of a slip

of a shoe sideways on concrete

in the evening crescent?

shore 'nuff the lessons

i've learned like a lurching car

sticking and grabbing the gears

just feel it up

feel it out

these moments will mesh

you just 

wait

and see.

fly

but this is so much different from what

everyone else tells me, responds with.

i am not sure that this is even the 

best thing for my

weak heart

i can't take it.

because of that, i am sure it is.

fly melissa, she says

what do we have left if we hoard our

hearts?

is that what life is about?

saving the scraps?  getting something back?

shoot, it's the experience

stop trying to figure out what everything is for and

be in it.

making everything just so, so right and so purposeful for 

what you do not know

like the leaves growing upward on a tree, defying the odds of smidgets and winks of sun

pushing to live, taking any little bit they can

i should not be so afraid of living with my heart outside my chest.  seem so confident but too

scared. 

my friend sandra says

no no no

it is much better

to fly

than to doubt.

and she is righter than i have ever been.

the coop holds no promises

but then

neither does the sun.

don't hate on the mornings

those i criticizejudge

exhibit weaknesses i despise in myself.

this pithy insecurity is never

never

worth it.

if i would realize the mornings are worth my time

my sacrifice

for they never disappoint

i would see the beauty in the tones of our skin.

forever have i languished in this tropic of complainsville

and let my mind dwindle on the scores of rust eves

when i waste one more hour on the computer

and ignore entirely the skies begging me to sleep.

for tomorrow's morning glow beckons

me to join.

to see.

be

live

fresh again to start the day with gray

then flamingo pink and finally brilliant orangered

to blast away all that doesn't matter

like the gavel and the spitfire.

participate

in the awe

of morning.

the woods

you've led me into

this thicket of poison

and bear traps under 

every root and leaf

i have never felt more

safe as your hand holds mine.

the look in your heart is kind

eyes behold best intentions

and yours are pure.

from every bush comes 

noises i have heard 

that chilled me to the

bone.  but you have led me

here.

three strands

sisters

not easily broken.

shards of a whole

but whole in each

the greatest of these

remain

faith

hope

love.

bring me your tired, your weak

show them my sisters and they will find

within themselves

a love for the dysfunction of their family

as i love mine.

all of us shards

splintered and broken

into tiny pieces of a whole

we are whole

when we are with 

those who know us best.

all one river, one pack, one nation, one family.  

no one looks the same inside

when beauty comes from every corner.

take the time to hear me

hear you

hear the silent sweep of arms pulling us all in

to an embrace

of pain needing comfort

echoing another's thoughts

questioning the caveats and crevices

shallow souls need not enter

for family abounds

if you will shift to give and take.

all of us broken

left hopin'

three strands or one

we never stand alone.

untitled because that sounds good

when i feel fraught

and caught

up 

in the airs

of indecision

or desparation

the only thing to do is fly.

away with it all

and turn the wind into music

to float upon as i find my bow

and pick,

fumble for my tuner

and look to the sun 

for inspiration

on what to play.

may day

oh may day

the rain has fallen light.

the chicks have all just hatched!

leaves unfurled and greet the sky with smiles

breathe deep and swift, pull all of you in 

for the may of this day is strong.

fleeting.

hold on

to this new hope.

flicker

a flicker of hope.

dashed.

i will light it again.

graceful

as i tiptoe along

this tightrope

extends beyond the corner

and i cannot see

trip and ye shall be picked up

doubt and ye shall be comforted

fly and ye shall join the heavens

in praise of this graceful life.

topple off the space provided and find

the rest.

there.

you are free to trust and push

show them the cloth

you are

cut

from.

grace.

it is too much, always.

i never deserve it

i always belittle it

he brings it as he has never failed to do.

lead me blind, farther than i have been before

trip with me

we'll turn it into a skip

and jump into your arms

they follow me and are ahead of me

in the constant questioning.

this morning always starts with darkness of black city streets 

but the sun rises.

steady and faithful.

you rise.

through all the choices i make to contrary your grace.

when i shout out you shout back

and i love you for it.

please do not leave me, i am weak.

in your strength.

i need you god

i need your grace to walk.

turned around

socioeconomic wonder 

at this hate filled fear

for we have only been hurt

by love

in our fragile state.

we have been pierced by

grace

bled from

mercy

turned over in our graves from 

forgiveness.

we are alive in fear but

we are whole at least

kept to ourselves.

safe.

but we are dead to all

that is life.

love.

porthole

vision narrows

blinds on

if only i could see the one.

there is never one, always two that i long to see

nay

search for.

one remains fruitless

one a mystery, but there.

if i speak in riddles do you know

of what i say?

do you hear these words of eyes and see the thoughts i think?

if i never stop pestering

walking

and reaching

will you have more mercy?

there can never be more than you.

one is enough. 

always.

3rd update on my dad's rocks, er, stones

pled for continuity report on my dad's kidney stones.  p.s. my mom is really hilarious, i mean let's not leave her out of this story!  she sent me the most recent update on his condish and i must tell a little back story for it to make a bit more sense to you wonderful friends: my mom is really progressing in her internet savvyness and when i first started this blog up last year, i checked in with her, challenging and reminding her to check it (she is a big fan.  not just because she is my mother, she insists upon this detail.) and one such conversation went like this:

me: "so mom, have you checked my recent blog posts?"

mom: "uh no honey, i haven't logged on it for awhile."

me: *guffaws and gasps for air for more than a moment.  howls might be a more appropriate description of this noise*

mom: *silence.  small chuckle.*  "uh, melissa what is so funny?  what?  what are you laughing about?"

me: "mom *gasp* oh    my    goooosh !  that is soooo hilarious!  'logged on'?  ohh my gosh!  mom-"

mom: "melissa, well isn't that what it's called?  i mean, what else would you say?"

me: "*snort* uhhh, you don't have to log on to my site, mom, you just have to type the address in and it'll take you there.  anyone can read it."

mom: "well *huf* OK.  no, i haven't visited it recently.  i'll look at it this evening.  gracious!"

ok so that was lengthy, but most of the time my mom manages to totally crack me up for something i might deem hilarious and others would simply glide right on past.  i just can't resist it, she's too cute.  she writes me e-mails sometimes regarding the things i have written (which are letters i will always treasure.  she is a builder, my mom.) and following is just one such note:

"Thanks for mentioning your Father's kidney stone.  We were just commenting this am (over blueberry muffins and tea*) that it was 4 weeks ago today that we spent the night in the ER.  He has only taken 2 pain tablets in the whole month!  He continues to take the herbal product, drink lots of water, and hangs upside down.  Isn't he a riot?  We cancelled the lithotripsy appointment because he is doing OK for now and we need to give the herbs time to work.  Except for getting up three times in the night to go to the bathroom, he doesn't give it much thought.  Keep up the prayers!  We know they are helping!"

 

*= my mother loooooves tea and has tea time as often as she can reason.  my dad joins her now that all the girls are out of the house.  it makes me sad, imagining them sitting there at the kitchen table by themselves, lonely.  perhaps they actually love this time and the silence in between all the kids coming in and out for reading lessons, but i, being one of their daughters who wishes the distance were mere blocks instead of thousands of miles, feel sad that i am not there as well. 

sprung

naked neon against expansive naked neon

greens and blues and yellows and fuschia

splashing with abandon

up against my sunglasses

i am not prepared!

watch where you're going!

straight

into

spring beauty.

shocking and stunning

breathtaking

spring has

sprung.

hand written notes

are a dying breed.

the flow of the pen

actual INK on a paper

the care and time taken to pick out the card

from your stash at home.

the envelope arrives in the mail

oh!

what surprise!

it is not junk or a bill

a magazine you won't read or a flyer for pizza.

it it a note

hand written

for me.

nearly extinct but not quite

because thoughtfulness is not

dead yet.

i intend to write more notes.  always.

find me not

in this shroud

of emptiness and torn flesh

i have not come to leave you yet

i will for always be inside.

the sorrow seeps, the weeping moans

my bone chance to overextend

for life itself is none too soon

the cost i brought shan't order me.

cross and alone

at long last he

the willow the only one

his shadow keeps

fraught up in pain the wormwood seeks

to swallow the truth, but never he.

sit down my friend

the deed is done

your coin is paid the morning comes

but not for you, your work is done.

thin layer

of glass dividing me

from the silky pants and the flowing skirts.

high heels and cell phone breaks outside.

the sunshine glares, friendly albeit.

thin layer of work and no work.

complaints all around.

a coffee break later

we are glad we have a paycheck.

glass divides those of us, sliced down the middle.  caught in the cacophony in our brains

to slave 

or

starve.

we all wish there were more options.

adam, i blame you for this one.

eve, you too.

the sadness

there are no words.

when i read a story that seems too tragic to be true.

but it is no fable, this is real life kid and shit happens.

all.the.time.

the eternal whiz and whir of why is pointless.  not so much in that it discourages me from asking

but because it will not bring an answer valid enough to explain away the 

sadness.

there are no words.

then show me the way to be wordless in sadness with others.  to be silent in the silence of death.  the mourning of moments that do not fade, only appear less obvious.

this is not the time to be yelling, yet i want to.

along with anything else that might make this pain lessen.  that is a selfish wish for it is not even i that is in this fractured cave.  only to make my empathy shrink.  

ah, then i might welcome death as a friend for i cannot live in oblivion.  how to walk with the death in everyday, that is what i want.  it cannot be OK, for it is always rotten.

there are no words.

the itch

to run and hide

to speak real loud

throw caution to the wind and just

give in

follow whatever it is that i want to do

without thinking.

or sometimes, when the mood is right

to look left and back to see

that the itch is fine and good

and

GO!

this feeling of wildness comes over me, this abandon to all things polite and boring.

to run into the unknown and relish it, envelop the minutes without hesitation.

for tonight is the night i want to dance long and loud and crazy and well

without regret.

it is not bad or ugly or wrong.

it is of beauty and truth that the things we can take, the things we can touch are of no consequence in the end.

only that which comes from within.

moroni

only 8am and it's 27 C, which is close to 81F folks.  

moroni.

the word came to me on a bike ride and i couldn't get it out of my head.  i didn't even know what it was!  so i looked it up, and several spellings later i am ridding the poem about "...midnight air sinking into my lungs" and "floating under a treetop roof".  

silly.

moroni, the capital of grande comore off the coast of mozambique on the other hand, does not mess around.

um hm.

maybe i should write about things that matter, i tell myself.

some of the only information i could find about the island is here.  sounds captivating and gruff.  almost unfriendly in the most beautiful of ways.  i feel limited in my geographical knowledge, which limits my power.  because i do have power.  we all do.  but what am i doing with it?

this morning in moroni i can only imagine what the people there awoke to, a day full of hard work?  political strife?  heat, stress, exhaustion, fear and not enough food?  again?  beauty and pain as far as the eye can see?

morose

magnificent

misfortune

merry

muted 

moroni.

another place i do not know but want to try.

-update on my dad-

thanks so much to all of you who have asked about my dad, he is doing well!  here is an e-mail excerpt he sent recently:

"I thought you'd like to pass along to your friends the results I've had with "hanging upside down" to stop kidney stone pain. It works! Two times today when I was teaching the pain started to come on, so at break time I went downstairs to my Soloflex machine and hung upside down on the chin-up bar, hanging by the back of my knees for a minute or two. 

The pain came back again within an hour of the first trial.

For the second trial, I drank a glass of water about 15 minutes before hand and I also gently swung back and forth a little. The pain seemed to go away more quickly and it hasn't returned (as of four hours later), so adding water seems to be beneficial. I'm really excited that when I am home I can do this and thereby avoid having to take the tylenol #3 with codeine tablets.

For a long term solution, I've ordered an herbal product that appears to be capable of slowly dissolving the kidney stones and helping to improve kidney function at the same time."

he did get this product in the mail and is going to give it a try.  as i mentioned before, he does have several kidney stones and while i am hopeful that this product will in fact do great things to reduce the size of the stones, i still have some reservations.  he is on the waiting list for the lithotripsy procedure and i will keep ya'll updated, but thank you again for all your generosity, thoughts and prayers.  i cannot express how deeply it has affected me.  incredible!

My dad has several kidney stones. This is not a joke.

It all started a long time ago when my dad, David Filkins, was born. I mean, a looooong time, well ok, I guess he's not that old. =0) Anyway, for some strange reason, he is prone to kidney stones.  He had one in '96 and it was awful.  This time the doctor has confirmed he has more than one in his kidney, with the largest and most irritating stone measuring 1cm. You read that right, MAMMOTH.  One cannot pass a kidney stone that large, so my father has to have it lasered with a process called lithotripsy into smaller, passable pieces. My dad has the highest pain tolerance of anyone in our whole family (and perhaps anyone I know otherwise), but he was in severe pain for 2 days before we all convinced him late Wednesday night that this was not going to disappear and he really needed to find out what the problem was.  No matter the cost.  Especially because you don't have the money dad, you're all we do have. Loving and being loved by you (and mom) is and has been the most influential aspect of my life.  My entire family's.  GOSH!  So my mom took him in.

  My parents don't have health insurance, haven't since dad was employed by a company with benefits.  Currently my parents work as reading tutors out of their home and they cannot afford it health insurance, so this is a huge burden financially.  One that may take them the rest of their working lives to pay off.  My dad is on the waiting list for the lithotripsy procedure (aprox. wait time: 1 month) so I'm praying he doesn't have too many intense bouts of pain in that timeframe.  Poor guy.

  If you think of him and are a praying person, please pray for my father.  If you want to take it a step further, my older sister Vanessa, who is an amazing photographer has set up a special deal on her incredible photos and all proceeds are going to pay the hospital bills.  She will send our parents a check on 3/30/09 with all the money she has gathered.  I am planning on having a car wash in the next couple weeks, so if you live in Austin let me wash your car!  Or, baby sit your children, or do chores or spring cleaning!  I'll do anything, within the law.  =0)  There is also a donation button here through PayPal (it is not required that you have a PayPal account to donate) if you'd like to just give.  Our parents have no idea we're doing this, I know they will see it as a miracle.  Thanks for any and all thought you have given this. 

move the soul

music that moves the soul

moves your ears

makes you twitch

deep in a place you didn't know needed to be tilled.

forges the bridge between the tapping and the incessant yapping and the clatter and bang of the daily cup o' joe that runs all over the television.

this noise is different.  it makes you stop tapping your foot, chawing that gum and flipping through texts out of boredom. 

everything around you seems to be happening in slow motion.  the noise is broken and a pure picture of beauty streams into your ears.  the way you have dreamed of love.

the play you have longed for is in your very being, the balance between rightness and honesty.  pain and truth,  interwoven as friends and enemies.  twine of the tiniest form, snakes it's way into your vision.

the reality possible if everyone heard.  if everyone knew this.

music is too simple a word.

exquisite sound and emotion.

ahhh.

breathe that in.

stop doing nothing and give your attention to the change that is before you.  in you.  right now.

soundoff, 3, 4!

i like waco, yes i do

i like waco 'cause it is new,

new to me but not to texas

lots more chevy and way less lexus

soundoff, 3, 4!

they talk real good and they seem real nice

when it comes to friendly, they don't dice.

the food is tasty and the custard divine

even if 'wild west' is dead at nine.

soundoff, 3, 4!

wa-co, you go!

i think it's fun to try new things

the town is country and all that brings.

the gym is apparently the place to be

even if it's the same old people they see

soundoff, 3, 4!

can't steal internet cause no one has it

we'll talk and watch movies, get back in the habit

one thing about country that ignites a passion

ya are yourself cause ya got no distractions

soundoff, 3, 4!

customized birthday books and the growth of toddlers

tonight i was part of a miracle

and i didn't even know it.

i was baby sitting for three kids i have sat for since the girls were 6 weeks old.

yes, i know i talk about them all the time, give me a break.  if you knew them you would too.

anyway, i taught them something, and it was a complete miracle.

to be witness to this growth and yet the initiator, the one who requested something specific of them, and to see it contemplated and then performed impacted me in a way i can only describe as

intensely beautiful.

it was remarkable!  to watch these girls, who have been part of the world 2 short years, learn something before my very eyes, and showcase their personalities and individual ideas at the same time, well i could talk about it all night.  i mean,

kids

people

we

are genius.

get them dance classes!  ap everything!  organic 24/7!  freedom in all pursuits!

let them live!

i beg you this one thing; just let me be part of it.

let this

not be about me father.

let me be about you

about your business

about your love.

follow your steps

the ones i cannot see in front of

the feet much more sure than mine

let this time you have given me

be seized for your heart

with your people

among an ocean of strangers you love.

find the truth to be sought after as the sun seeks the blades to light

every crevice to invade.

for the soul to desire

better than we can offer

let me be about eternity, now.

february

sometimes

when you feel just

blah

you remember the way you felt when you tossed the covers aside that morning.

and that feels good.

it feels better.

i want to live the

fresh

zest

sustenance 

each blah,

i want to savor the sunshine and the breeze and a friend to talk to who is listening.

i want to draw with chalk on the sidewalk for no reason and take my time.  i want to love what i do and who i have become and accept the things people compliment me on.

i want to work so hard on myself that i never stop

but stop

to stop

and see

this moment.

hope

opportunities,

grace.

pull back those covers, there is so much more.

riot

take me away

i can't take this anymore.

you make me

[no, i give you the right]

detest this thing i have become.

a monster, the bad guy, the one you thought had your back.

not anymore.

i am tired

of watching 

my soul

die.

a sad thing

i let you go

let down

the time i should have held on.

you are precious, to be treasured and known

instead i let you fend for yourself.

never again.

these eyes

are new.

freezing

the excitement must

has

taken over my life.

it is not only the day, but the night.

not the week, but the month, the year.

i seek to run away with it, every opportunity is taken to enjoy

to delve

into this moment.

watch boys flipping their bodies off walls, upsidedown and all around

slack jawed and enthralled.

they have taken the excitement

seized their joy for life, or their boredom of the everyday, the rote

and flung it into a new thing, a facet of themselves.

one they didn't know existed.  

yes, 

me too.

sitting in the quiet in my head

you see me

sitting here at the table

wishing to be with you, with everyone

at the same i wish to be inside my head.

plugged into my headphones 

plugged into my computer 

plugged into the wall 

plugged up, 

locked up.

stolen away with technology but starving for others, companionship.

even if we don't talk

and we sit across from each other for 4 hours and we never exchange names.

community it is, truly it's not.

i see you sitting there, do you see me?

the quiet in my head is almost right.

almost.

day two

twirling with delight

at the wonder of movement.

the freedom escapes our fingers and ankles and heads thrown back in joy, utterly at peace with ourselves.

how can we all be such strangers together?

where is the harsh unfamiliarity of the everyday, the everyman?  gone. outside.  where there is no

dancing.

day one.2

schwip

grind

sching!

squeeeeak

pop!

gush

jingle

and through the doorway arrives a surprise!  what will she say?

day one

you promised me the muffin

i really wanted it, but tried not to show.

if i hold back, you can be objective, and my feelings won't cloud your decision.

but i want to taste that muffin.  so bad i can feel the first moist top on my lip already

hoping i will choose butter over margarine.  the good stuff, the best.

you promised.  will you take it back now?  when i have waited and not begged and been 

patient?

will you?

what?

a muffin for me?

i have no idea what to do, what to say.  thank you for your promise.

numbers game

1 idea i just had

+

7 days of writing anything and everything that comes to mind or inspires

= more writing than i do now.  more thinking.  flow, so go!

karaoke and the joys of public humiliation

for sure, i'll do it!

get up there and sing my heart out

or at least my guts

show them that i am just as willing as the next guy to

blow it

in front of utter strangers

and love it

because this is what living is about.

not being the best

prettiest

most talented or adored

but truly living in the moments you have.

"be here now" my friend rohni says, she says it a lot

to remind me

that if i am not here

i am there

and everywhere

gone

into the distance

that is my daydreams and not with

by 

for

into

the people and life i have now.

show up, never let anyone shut you up, but listen: be here now.

oh, and belt "goodbye earl" with your friend dearing on stage.  lo/li/ve it!

quiver

"keep your chin up, but don't mind 

if your lip quivers."

(-carmen petrick, e-mail) 

the only thing about joblessness is the quivering, really.  it's not so bad, but for the uncertainty of a paycheck.  this mention from carmen (quoted) was perhaps one of the most astounding things i have read this week.  it hit me like a small child crying for attention.  you want to pay some mind to it, to assure them they are indeed cared for and uniquely important to you, however you do not want to jump too fast, thus encouraging the behavior.  

some of the things i say are like a foreign language.

in the attempt to keep my chin up, i know that it's quivering can be seen.  shockingly enough those who notice have only words of comfort and support for me.  it is a safe place to quiver, a safe bunch to walk with.  even though we all hurt each other as people do, unconditional love covers over these pains with immaculate love that is not from us, but from the father.  he is beyond capable, he is more than i can imagine.  oh love, oh lord, you have lifted me above these rising storms with your people, your love, your intimacies for my heart.  help me not to look down, but keep my quivering chin up towards your face.  oh.

this is

this is the day

this is the day

that the lord has made

i will rejoice

i will rejoice 

and be glad in it!

(song based off psalm 118:24)

 

today i was laid off.  and so it is, i cry and i rejoice for god is with me always.