She grows in cycles,
curling upward every season
But the reason stays static:
emphatic panic
manic treason

“be ever vigilant” – it rings frequent,
Not the least when she sees him.
Deep chestnut
Arctic green
Cross-legged under oak trees

This is the game of complications.
No repeats
or hesitation.
“You need someone.” – No.
What she needs:

A chance to be alone.

Time to properly tend
what she has sown.

And courage
to set down roots
on her own.

i’ve submitted the revised draft
and I think it’s better this way

The river crawls back to the sea, you see,
and we all turn in someday, too;
Whatever life gives us is temporary

i wanted the same mountain but a different climb
the sun is shining too brightly in my eyes
it feels just like an interrogation light
yet the future’s looking dim
Does that seem right?

My luck lies buried
beneath the lakes of Washington
All of the reasons to think again
and go back to Hangman Creek

There were things I’ll –
well I don’t know if I should say
But it’s true and I have a knot in my stomach

More time,
we all cried for it
if it could be born in between
the heartache of
Two contrarians
I’ll name it Janus

Eke out a little existence
this is the realm where no one’s listening
Tear off the masks!
there’s nothing really left so it’s time
to dig through the ashes
and reassess

there’s snow overhead
maybe we don’t need a radio
do people still know morse code
in the post-apocalyptic future?

/

Enough, right now it’s ground zero
there’s no time to build a memorial
so grab your guns and get moving

/

When I let someone pervade every bit of the world
then every bit of the world seems to laugh in my face
it’s like I’m George Bailey but I have no Clarence
so I keep trudging in the same cursed parade

and I never liked being on display
like a tiger in a cage
carving a line in the ground where I pace

but the cage of fibs is lying in splinters
it can’t keep the monster contained

the illusion was about maintaining control
it should have been letting go
because nothing remains pristine
and even new feelings get old

;

Ok

when all her feathers were gone
sweet down scattered on the scarlet bedspread
her fingers calloused from the loom
sweeping his hair from his forehead

she gave all her moonlight away
to the tide who brought her in
she fell from her leap of faith
and I believe that she deserved it

at least the cloth will keep him warm
through the nights he may wonder if anybody loves him
but you can hear her mourn
the cry of the crane in the cold sky above him

oh, to do it all again
all the dreams of a woman who loves her man
I know I’d do it different
because hearts never beat according to plan

cranes are too fragile
the world just takes and takes again
and men are too
because cranes can break and become broken

I believe in not getting enough sleep
and enjoying what I eat
and as Steinbeck said,
living violently

I know I am beautiful
but when I look in the mirror, I still see
an insecure 15-year-old
gazing back at me

And I am a musician
who was taught the philosophy:
If you are going to make mistakes,
it’s best to make them confidently

She
like most people
frames pictures from her perspective
and says she is completely disconnected
but it’s clearly not her method

The invisible threads that bind us,
screaming,
to the train tracks of perception

Did he ignore you
or did he simply forget to mention

I’m trained in apathy myself
It’s bad for the heart, but good for the health
If everyone can ruin your life,
then your life will always be ruined.

In any case, I’m getting older
and see the beauty in mismatching,
like the multi-colored autumn leaves
or the green/blue tartan of the seas

Stay with me.
Others had more time; I’ve barely had any
And stitching our patterns together
takes time and a steady hand
lest we part at the seams

don’t praise a river for flowing downstream
it carves out the delta whether you know it or not

the lamb won’t stray til the shepherd has gone;
in the crook of the land she sleeps on,
heart warm and beating,
sweet lamb with sweet dream-bleating.
and he lingers by her, reading

but is it better to live off the wheat or the wind?
is it better to cavort or to settle in?
while lambs slumber, he wakes within
new adventures will always await him

4-26-21

My lover gave me a string of pearls
to wear around my neck
Stony reminder of a rare heart
“No one will ever love you like you are,
but I will love you into becoming.”

Sleepless night after sleepless night
kept up by the memories
that mercifully erased themselves
(and still
the insomnia
remains)

I did not change my name;
my name has been the same

 

She writes poems about other people
Like they’re stolen silk
Laid coolly against skin, delicate imposition
Shines like honey, soothes like milk
In a Renaissance world, life is in the linens

And it seems unlikely
that she wove from the beginning
It’s Just Another Thing She’s Trying
soon to be Just Another Thing She’s Quitting

Okay
okay
taking a breath
Yes I feel like death
But you could keep me close to your chest
Draw me out, put me through the spinneret
You think I’ll be fine?
Bet