Moments

We travel down most of our life with a broken compass; not sure of what turns we are taking, which pit-stops are actually destinations, and sometimes, what is north or south.

After time passes us by, we look back at the map we left of our footprints, our loves and losses, and we can clearly see the directions we have walked in, and even which forks led us to where we currently reside.

There are those few rare moments, though, when time bends and flows around you; two separate lifetimes raging on either side of a single decision. You resist moving to extend this single moment, knowing that you must abandon the sights and sounds of one trail absolutely, to experience whatever awaits down your chosen path. And so you hold on. Tight. Maybe you try not to breath.

Until you can't out-wait time any longer, and the weight of what you already know you will do carries you into the current of your future, leaving you only a memory of what might have danced and sang and touched you along your untraveled life.

My Favorite Chef

I was joyful when
He walked in—weeks after he disappeared
looking older than I remembered,
pasty,
swollen,
yet smiling like usual

then he shrugged off help
Declaring he came back for pay day,
"Need some cash," followed by
a flippant gesture,
a rough laugh,
and a sticking out tongue,
I couldn’t help but find an empty room
to cry.

Good ole John
loving and talented
kind and funny,
and dealing with
"personal problems"

I know addiction when I see it.

"He’s fine"—
"He’s a big boy"—
"He’s made it this far…"—
"Its just a binge"—

Sure,

But I know some big boy binges don’t end til the grave
So I give him a hug before he walks out the door again.

luck,
lots of love
and wishes,
that's all I could give good ole John.

(written August 16, 2011)

Treadmill

The thumping of my feet in my 5-finger shoes

would’ve embarrassed me if I didn’t have Brand New

drowning out the gym, my feet, the patrons

All but my thoughts it muffled

Those padded along with my feet

This general frustration with life

I can’t seem to shake

I don’t handle the time between change well

I realized while breathing harder

I fight it

but I can’t win

unless I learn patience,

It hasn’t gone well for me in the past,

Breathing hard, heart beating fast, too fast?

Maybe

I surpass the two stopping points I had decided on

in my head

but I’m still not satisfied, not proud of my results

I want my legs to burn hotter

my lungs to strain more, that 170 bpm heart to push harder

Burst?

Maybe

I want more sweat dripping off

my hair, down my forehead

I want to work off this mental discomfort

I haven’t been able to shake with writing, working, thinking

But I stop at 1 point something miles anyway.

It feels good to feel drained

and hot while I stretch my

nose to my knee

But not good enough.

Nothing has felt good enough in awhile now

And I don’t really know why

Or where I went. In between change.

(written August 6, 2011)

One Day

One day
the world woke up
and realized
We are all dying
and nobody is doing much about it
The wars
oh, the wars,
One day
everybody woke up
and stopped trying
to convince
everybody else
that they were
right
And that war
it stopped
because, why
fight if
nobody is right
One day
the world
ended
just as one
day
it began
When the
cycle of life
includes death
why do we expect
the world to last
forever
and are we
surprised its not
once we've made
our world
and our people
so sick...

Untitled

Everybody acts like leaving here
is such a huge decision
Don't you make an equally large
decision everyday you wake up
to your same-old life and 
decide to stay?
Its funny how stagnant is the
"right" way to be
how testing the waters of life
is taboo--unless its a "normal" 
change, of course;
marriage, new job, promotion, new house,
those are okay.
The others may require risk
Maybe something negative will happen
The act isn't well received 
when your car is headed towards a person
and not a corporation.
Why?
What stability does your career promise?
What fulfillment?
Does it give you love in return
for all the time you give it?
All the life you sacrifice in its honor?
Today, I've spent my time alone.
Doing things I could do anywhere.
I have friends that know how to be friends from far and near.
I just may experience new, different life-
watch out,
I just may fail-- 
or succeed.
I may change
I may hurt.

I'm ignoring your normal. 

written August 2011

Morning Showers

Quick efficiency leave me in the morning
And today I keep thinking you, you, you,
as that weight in my chest waxes and wanes...
I wish there was a tide right here and now
so it would sweep me away-
and I would be powerless.
turning and swirling, over and under,
flailing or floating
no right or wrong
until I landed on some solid place
and that is where i would stay-
at least I'd know it was meant to be.
Then, I think, my masochistic heart would stop trying to confuse my healthy head.

written 3/17/2011

Question

Some nights
I am sick with the
memories of all the
hurt and loss,
All the patterns of lies and
cheating
The broken promises
and the betrayals

They sit in my stomach like
sharp bile and they flood
into my heart, rising,
Until they choke me up
and stall my brain
on one question repeating--
"How many more before its more than I can take?"

written 2-24-2011

Writing Fairy Tales

The base of my chin is raw from your stubble,
and my mind is torn from the night.
If anybody asks what I did,
I'll say, "I was writing fairytales."
I just won't say its my own.
Or that I don't know about
"Happily Every After" yet.

written 12/4/10

More Old LovePoem Stuff

When you wake up in the morning
will you smile
just to see my eyes opening next to yours
Will you walk me to the beach
and hold my hand
stopping to kiss my forehead
Will I come home and find dinner being cooked
and a handsome man at the stove
If I cry
will you comfort me until I laugh again
Would you take time to hear my fears and admit your own
When you see me naked
will you appreciate the curves of my body
even though I'm not model-thin
Will we be happy and free
Can we adventure always
Can life be about being happy 
instead of productive
Will you hold me until the
arms that wrap around me are as
familiar as my own
Are you all these things
Because I'm just indulging daydreams

written 12/3/10

December

We sat
and when you grabbed my hand
I flinched

not away from you
but towards a recent past
more faded than is necessary
or expected

And with a nail across a wrist
I knew something was being said
but I can't interpret the language, yet

Your touch is comfort
and heart-racing aphrodisiac
with hints of familiarity
so wrapped up in differences
I can't tell what is new or old

Is this what I'm supposed to understand?

Don't let go of my hands, or lips
if you prefer
because I'm just baby-stepping
towards a realization
and if you stay still it helps

Why now?
I will turn over what I'm meant to
eventually
but will it be what I'm
backwards
hoping for?

63rd Birthday

Dirt on my hands
caked on
from when I spilled the milk glass vase's
water all over your footstone
and wiped the dirt and grass out
of the engraved letters and dates


The eternity vase broke today
popped right out of its hole in the ground
I thought it was ironic
but I couldn't decide if it was hopeful,
or kind of sad.


Nothing lasts forever I guess
even if we name it like it does


I wish I could show more affection
than cleaning off your footstone
and jumping on the ground where your
belly should be
and propping flowers up in a no-longer-eternal
eternity vase


But I think you know that
and I think you appreciate the gestures


I still love you.
Always.
I guess I found the one thing that truly is forever.

The Reserves

The air was in-between,
No hint of warmth from the sun
and no chill on the edge of a breeze.
When the rain came,
I knew it would touch my skin with care,
So my dress collected softly, quickly, at my toe-tops.


We let drops hit every part of us--
No barrier
or embarrassment to block nature's approving eyes.
While my feet caressed barely pooling puddles,
I watched you trot and glide,
A modern-day Adam and Eve
set free in seventy acres of Spring's green privacy.


I've never laughed so joyfully!


You lifted me back into civilization,
wet on wet and smooth on smooth,
And the giggle in my heart did not stop--
Even after lingering laughter
skipped off my lips.


(written April 11, 2011)

Part 2 :)

I found myself in a room full of strangers
I found parts of me in a game of pool
and parts dancing to a live band
I found myself- friendly and fun and
I found out that kind people won't let you sit alone at the bar
I found out that a guy hitting on me doesn't have to be
a threat or an invitation--but an introduction to new people
or future friends.
I found myself- a guy's girl
in the laughter of the boys from Wisconsin
I found myself- a beautiful and intelligent sought-after-woman 
in the accent of Stuart from London
I found myself liking who I am (even if I am a bit of a flirt)
when I found myself
in a room full of strangers.


(written January 17, 2011)

Part 1?

When everything is white around me I don't know what color I am.
When everybody is bleeding red,
what do my insides look like?
I can be anybody, but I want to be me.
If only I could figure out who that is.
When you don't give me a cause, I don't have an effect.
Tell me how to find that brown haired girl
and shake her until she flies out
and shakes me back.
Will I wander into me if I keep living how I am?
Do I need to search me out?
And if so, where do I go to look?
What tools do I bring along?
A flashlight or a jigsaw?
Somebody bait me out so I can remember the color of my own blood.


(written January 13, 2011)

Remember when?

Remember when you used to love me, wet hair,
no makeup,
right out of the shower?


But that was so long ago,
and I guess its been awhile since
I felt
that you saw me as beautiful,
like you used to when I didn't even try.


There's a frame on the bed-stand
with a once-secret inside
and I can't bear to open it tonight,
Because it feels like so much time
and I don't know how we got to now.


Remember when you used to wake me up?


My body remembers and does it still
so it couldn't have been so long ago.
But tonight you're two miles down the road,
like you've been for six nights past,
might as well be two thousand miles
for how little I can feel you here.


I wish me, naked, hair wet from the shower,
no makeup,
was still more than enough 
to keep us happy.


But there are boxes full of me
and closets full of you
and a house full of failure instead.


(written November 17, 2010- edited before typed)

Tomorrows the 4th of July

I've been daydreaming today
Some visions of the future flashed
with white and couches and wet lips between tongues,
the past played, too,
sweet potato casserole, gold mines, and flowers on the table.
now,
flowers come in envelopes to a girl aching for her best friend
biting her tongue and secret-ink-computer-byte-confessions
bubbling out of a new realization heart and,
oh, that heart it longs and loves to the air
or to miles of open field,
or to paper and 6 line addresses,
just right.

Night dreams would be nice
with legs touching, hair tangled breath
on head on chest on us so alone
together,
and lips only three inches apart not three time zones--
You will come home and I will not
let go, I won't.
Hold me, please!
But when I have to, there will be pride,
You're the family of the 4th of July!

Everybody watches sparks in the sky
"celebrating" the men and women
that sleep outside and eat fake food
to get enough calories to carry their everything
they have on their backs,
just so one Lovely day they can be dropped on a place
they don't want to be,
where they are not wanted,
without their loved ones,
for men sitting in suits in their fancy offices fucking not-their-wives,

Happy Independence Day USA!

Now, give him back
so I can tell him, "Oh, god, I
love you so much,"
and there can be flowers on the table
and words in mouths
and hands in hands.
I'm living in a land of daydreams
and all I want is to make more days!

Instead of that heavy green responsibility on your back,
carry me in your arms.

(written July 3, 2010)

Empty House

Every black line between wood 
is a familiar memory,
I always thought I'd like this house
but I never did,
I loved you, though, so that was enough.
Now its just me and the house
beating up on each others' insides.
And you don't even know how it feels,
To be two thirds of a whole,
without your favorite piece. 
When I leave I won't have the missing third anymore--
But I'll be half again.
This box of darkness never felt like home,
but you did,
And I'm guessing you won't come here either.


(written November 18, 2010)

Wild Play School Day

I have the strongest eyes in the world
I have green tides and pink waves
I have gemstones and silver shoes
                                silver pupils
                                silver toes
                                silver veins
The diamonds that float through my silver veins.
I hope I can swim
I hope I can drown
I hope my diamonds glimmer brightly.
I want a rainfall
I want a waterfall of green and gold
Some call me the lady of luckless love
You are the difference between real and mystical
What an interesting creature!


(written on November 12, 2009)

Pondering Again

Is this what happens when nature and nurture collide?
When pack mentality fights commitment-phobia,
and a search for individuality finds itself in a room
with a future image of a husband and career?
Do we all struggle through this battle?
Does everybody think before they leap?
And if they don't, who is better off?


(written October 25, 2009)

Sitting on Campus Thinking and Writing

Alone.
What I want to be
but only today
Only sometimes
not forever
because who wants to be alone?

Humans go to extreme measures
to not be alone.
Sometimes alone is better for us than together.

Have you ever watched somebody trade loneliness
for unhappiness?
for some reason
they feel better
they think they are better
But everybody can see they aren't
Or are they?

We fear loneliness
maybe more than
pain
Because it sticks
it feels like it could linger forever
that if we don't
shake it off
We'll be stuck
unhappy.

We are pack creatures,
But why?
the people I surround myself with
make me--
we are all recipes
of different parts of our friends
our families
our enemies
And isn't that a terrifying
thought?
Even the most solitary individual is defined
by what,
who,
he doesn't want to be
which is just the same,
Do people realize this?

I guess its a simple topic
but it seems so unexplorable
undiscoverable
over my head
one of those many thoughts
I feel around
and get discouraged by the depth of.

(written October 25, 2009)