Today seems to be too pretty to be the day she dies, too sparkly, too vibrant with azaleas and sunshine, unsuitable for death and dying.Read More
I long for the day when the
passing through the holes of my heart
and will crochet a thick burlap
for my old age
My mother use to say "take time to
Sit and count your blessing, count them one by one and see what God
Has done." She had made her transition from this life to the next,
But those words are ingrained in my
Mind and in my heart.
To turn my lover into poetry I would have to elaborate on the way his bony arms look fragile but are strong enough to hug me tight enough to put the shattered pieces of me back together again.Read More
The cooling water reflected our tiny feet
dangling over the rush of trash,
We saw the film of green as flowered mattresses
formed for the crusty leaves
scorched within summer’s lungs.
i hear your name
my head starts spinning
i hear your voice
you think you’re winning
i see that day
i want to cry
are you ok?
i have to lie
in this place
deep wells of knowing
and not knowing.
Today was beautiful, sunny and warm. I decided it was a great day
To get my car washed. I drove over
To the Flag Stop car wars and couldn't believe the number of cars
Lined up to be washed. I decided
There was nothing pressing on my
Agenda, so I sat back and waited for
She sends pictures of him posed in doorways,
red pants and full lips and
the scarves that men wear in far off places.
Cells of longing sleep beneath
the bed of earth, a dream-in-waiting,
whispering in the shadows,
knowing more about us than we do ourselves;
knowing who needs a dream with thorns,
who with lilies, who will wake with a whimper,
who with sweet remembering.