Wednesday, October 19, 2005


Memory

It forced itself through, pulling guilt
Bloody and pulsing, it swelled into a mountain
One side lower, where it settled into itself
Slowly softly surrendering into stillness

The other washed the insides smooth
Pearled and taught, a secret
Beginning in their hard white teeth
Not one gray line, it almost gleamed

Friday, October 07, 2005

Honesty


The house was old
the oak was dying
no one moved away
they just lived in the remains


Should they be allowed, they would move

as when they were, more like themselves

pouring salt on snails just to watch them die

before it was death it was discovery


Should they be allowed, they would move

as when they were, more like animals

sleeping in the hot breath of each other

before desire it was instinct


Should they be allowed, they would move

as when they were, more like the other

breaking their mother’s mirror

Before fear it was ignorance

Wednesday, October 05, 2005


Submission

Clean sheets wrapped around my thighs
the warmth of my husband next to me
a book in my hand, the cover pushed back
the binding is solid, my happiness is here now
in this good read, but then I have felt this before
a thread is being pulled through the slats of my
heart, it is quieting and reverent and it is connecting

A man cleaning the glass in front of a department store
knowing the bits of paper will leave a pattern of his work

A chameleon, wet with humidity, breathing steady
on a magnolia tree heavy with flowers

A woman, cheeks ruddy and moist, drinking from a water fountain
slight smile, it tastes so good, so good

My dog in the sun, summer grass beneath her belly

Cold water in a green glass

Stolen fruit in my eight -year -old hands

My brother alive, subtle as a moth in his cripple chair
trying to remember the sound of his voice

Thursday, September 29, 2005

Untitled

In some


unknown


ocean


you are


closer to it


than you were


than you are


able to reach


places lost


listening for


the same songs


you would take


anything


if you could


hear it


hear us


again


wispering wispering


on your


single


sail boat

Tuesday, September 27, 2005

Tender

These are tender times. I have been thinking that perhaps it was just me, my softness. It looks as though the world could give in, bend into into itself. I am so scared and the world is too. We are anchored by fear. Really we are made numb by it because the alternate would be too much, it would be too hard. I suppose it would be different if we just decided to stop and sit and feel. It would all be so different. We would be available to each other , to our surroundings. When I was 18 years old, I took a government class at a community college. I don't know what I expected from the class. I just took it because it was something to do. I had no direction and still don't. However, I remember the professor. He was older, white hair, a beard, a smoker, a drinker, and a little mad. He sort flailed his hands as he spoke. He was wirey and mostly drunk. His first class he spoke about apathy and about why we are apathetic, we as in the general public, to government, to decision making. I got stuck on that idea, about people and thier general apathy about life. When I first heard him talk about government this way I realized that apathy is how we live in this world becuase it is easier. It makes me sick to think that I am like this too. How long have I been like this?

Wednesday, August 31, 2005








I have decided to join the endless list of self-indulgent people and create a blog of my own. I am in need of an outlet. I use to write poems. I cannot write poems anymore. I have tried. I am hoping that the infinite space will prompt me to write something again. I have read only a few blogs, all different. There is freedom and I like that. So, this is my first entry and hopefully not the last. There is the possibility that I will forget my password or username and then never attempt to retrieve it. I pray complacency does not take over. It would be terrible to begin yet another thing and leave it in limbo as I do with so many things.