Monday, June 29, 2009

seen in my sleep

it was in a dream
that i started stringing and spooling
the lines along
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.
oh wishing
i could
that poem
i composed in my sleep.

Friday, June 19, 2009

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
yourself into your 
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
all you have to do is get in.

Thursday, June 18, 2009


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.

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

seville 3ooo

as these old keys click and the metal
and the words come flowing out.
as music from my head, my heart just
sits down on the paper
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
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.

Saturday, June 6, 2009

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
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.

Friday, June 5, 2009

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 
we are infatuated with youth
when it is the old who know the joy of living
who relish the moments
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.

Thursday, June 4, 2009

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.
who i am.