iron hooked, razor edged
pain, my beast
with claw and fang
rakes through me,
struggling to rip away
what was,
tears me asunder
til nothing is left
but newness,
raw and aching
and promising peace
on the far side of surrender.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
first to go
strings of steel lay cold and silent
waiting for the touch of a lover
who will never return
blue eyes, big hands, sometimes a smile
and -- oh! -- what a smile
and always his silent strength
there's a feeling like nothing else
empty and pulsing all at once
a feeling that warns: too soon
he'll be gone, a hole in the sky
will open up and let him go
just like it always does
when we're not looking,
that's when they slip away...
the ones you wish most would stay
the ones who fill the world
with sweet, sweet music
and silent strength
the ones you wish
would never, ever leave
they're usually the first to go.
waiting for the touch of a lover
who will never return
blue eyes, big hands, sometimes a smile
and -- oh! -- what a smile
and always his silent strength
there's a feeling like nothing else
empty and pulsing all at once
a feeling that warns: too soon
he'll be gone, a hole in the sky
will open up and let him go
just like it always does
when we're not looking,
that's when they slip away...
the ones you wish most would stay
the ones who fill the world
with sweet, sweet music
and silent strength
the ones you wish
would never, ever leave
they're usually the first to go.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
with you
slipping into deepest blue
where moments stretch out
'til thin around the edges,
then wrap back 'round and
so begin anew...
where moments stretch out
'til thin around the edges,
then wrap back 'round and
so begin anew...
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Different Already
I remember comparing tattoos,
Leaning against the railing
At the mall and
Swapping our stories --
My crazy mother,
Your basketball team and teenage years,
How the state champs celebrated with ink
To never forget those golden glory days --
And the night we talked of religion,
You asked me what I believed
And actually listened
To all of my answers.
You were the spark of life,
The eye-roller, the maker of waves
And even when you played the grumpy old man
It was there, that mischievous smile.
The last time we spoke I told you,
Between I love yous and tearful goodbyes,
"Now I have no one to talk to"
And you said "Yes you do."
But it's different already
Just knowing that you're gone,
That there will be no more memories
Or jokes that only we find funny.
No more dinners at Chili's,
Heckling waitresses,
Everyone's smiles embarrassed
Except for yours...
No more family gatherings,
Sitting in the corner
And talking while the others
Do whatever normal grown-ups do.
You were smart, and interesting
And ornery, and didn't care
If others disapproved.
You were happy,
And the world that never
Appreciated you enough
Is already infinitely
More boring, now you're gone.
Leaning against the railing
At the mall and
Swapping our stories --
My crazy mother,
Your basketball team and teenage years,
How the state champs celebrated with ink
To never forget those golden glory days --
And the night we talked of religion,
You asked me what I believed
And actually listened
To all of my answers.
You were the spark of life,
The eye-roller, the maker of waves
And even when you played the grumpy old man
It was there, that mischievous smile.
The last time we spoke I told you,
Between I love yous and tearful goodbyes,
"Now I have no one to talk to"
And you said "Yes you do."
But it's different already
Just knowing that you're gone,
That there will be no more memories
Or jokes that only we find funny.
No more dinners at Chili's,
Heckling waitresses,
Everyone's smiles embarrassed
Except for yours...
No more family gatherings,
Sitting in the corner
And talking while the others
Do whatever normal grown-ups do.
You were smart, and interesting
And ornery, and didn't care
If others disapproved.
You were happy,
And the world that never
Appreciated you enough
Is already infinitely
More boring, now you're gone.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Jim, Who Died Today
"Well," you said
As we were sitting on the couch
Watching Masterpiece Theater
After dinner, "Jim died,"
You said, "today."
For three weeks
I've been waiting
And ready for the news,
Drawing out the longest goodbye
And listening for the final breath
And you took my hand.
You didn't stare at me
Or wait to see
If I was crying,
Or if I would break
And I turned toward you,
The slightest inclination
Just to be nearer,
As if our being together
Could somehow make it right.
I imagined him on this day,
And how he always hated
Going to church on holidays.
Jim watched golf on Easter
And was happy.
And he was as ready as we were,
Tired of living when life was all but gone.
He didn't want to go, really,
But once he knew he would
He didn't want to wait.
So now this day of resurrection
Is also a day of farewell
And perhaps
That's as it should be.
Tempered, always,
One tear for joy and one for sadness,
One tear of thanks for now
And one for then,
A smile of remembrance,
No longer raging against the end.
"Well, it's done," said the Dickens character on TV,
"And we must brave it as best we can."
And I laughed and laughed then because,
If you're listening, life always knows
Exactly what to say.
As we were sitting on the couch
Watching Masterpiece Theater
After dinner, "Jim died,"
You said, "today."
For three weeks
I've been waiting
And ready for the news,
Drawing out the longest goodbye
And listening for the final breath
And you took my hand.
You didn't stare at me
Or wait to see
If I was crying,
Or if I would break
And I turned toward you,
The slightest inclination
Just to be nearer,
As if our being together
Could somehow make it right.
I imagined him on this day,
And how he always hated
Going to church on holidays.
Jim watched golf on Easter
And was happy.
And he was as ready as we were,
Tired of living when life was all but gone.
He didn't want to go, really,
But once he knew he would
He didn't want to wait.
So now this day of resurrection
Is also a day of farewell
And perhaps
That's as it should be.
Tempered, always,
One tear for joy and one for sadness,
One tear of thanks for now
And one for then,
A smile of remembrance,
No longer raging against the end.
"Well, it's done," said the Dickens character on TV,
"And we must brave it as best we can."
And I laughed and laughed then because,
If you're listening, life always knows
Exactly what to say.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
the recipe i found inside
my mother's, passed down from her mother
and her mother's mother before her
it's a secret, she said,
every family has one you know
you can't talk about it, she said,
because someone might be listening
and anyway, everyone knows it's bad luck
to speak of love while you're peeling an onion
and her mother's mother before her
it's a secret, she said,
every family has one you know
you can't talk about it, she said,
because someone might be listening
and anyway, everyone knows it's bad luck
to speak of love while you're peeling an onion
Sunday, March 08, 2009
child
keep me from forgetting
who i am,
who i was before the world
told me what i should be.
sing to me
at the top of your lungs
so i can't help but hear you
and i sing, too.
bring me flowers
grown from seeds
i forgot i planted,
pile them all around me
until the smell of them
makes me high
and i, too, must bloom.
tell me a story.
tell me five, tell me ten,
tell me a hundred!
let me hear that voice
and don't let me tell you
you talk too much.
laugh at me
because i'm silly
and i try too hard
to be cool.
look me in the eye
and say, "i'm here now,
and i'm not going anywhere
without you"
then take my hand
and spin me round
til the world's all fuzzy
and we tumble, giggling,
happy when we land
in all the messes
that we've made.
who i am,
who i was before the world
told me what i should be.
sing to me
at the top of your lungs
so i can't help but hear you
and i sing, too.
bring me flowers
grown from seeds
i forgot i planted,
pile them all around me
until the smell of them
makes me high
and i, too, must bloom.
tell me a story.
tell me five, tell me ten,
tell me a hundred!
let me hear that voice
and don't let me tell you
you talk too much.
laugh at me
because i'm silly
and i try too hard
to be cool.
look me in the eye
and say, "i'm here now,
and i'm not going anywhere
without you"
then take my hand
and spin me round
til the world's all fuzzy
and we tumble, giggling,
happy when we land
in all the messes
that we've made.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
seeing blue
your touch is my heart
your voice my breath,
these smiles my worlds
and where i'm meant to be.
i know this very simply
like a bee sees blue,
the way that rosemary
always tastes like home.
your voice my breath,
these smiles my worlds
and where i'm meant to be.
i know this very simply
like a bee sees blue,
the way that rosemary
always tastes like home.
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
monday's miracles
monday's miracles come dusted in chalk and rosin.
from head held in hands to bus stop dancing,
in the face of pain and prognoses, of gravity itself,
defiance is sometimes the greatest miracle of all.
from head held in hands to bus stop dancing,
in the face of pain and prognoses, of gravity itself,
defiance is sometimes the greatest miracle of all.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
to touch but not to hold
the night you took your last breath
i went dancing, and ate a sandwich,
and had the hiccups, and felt a little sad
but didn't know why.
i passed by your door and smiled and waved,
as always, assuming you were inside.
and why not? if i had listened more closely
would i have noticed the silence
where your laughter should have been?
the absence of that one voice among millions
now fills my ears, and i choke on a goodbye
that my heart is not ready to say.
we were not yet through embracing our hellos.
i had not yet asked all of the questions
that i was saving for next time. next time...
and why do we always say "i lost a friend"
as if it were some carelessness
and not our own humanity to blame?
(though perhaps the two are the same)
as if it wouldn't have happened
if only we'd paid more attention?
but then perhaps that's also true.
now they tell me that the world is round
so there is no beginning or end,
just waves on sand and wind in trees
and sometimes the illusion of more.
but i know that when i met you i met your soul,
and it was one that gave me hope,
an infinite gift as sweet as the dishes you served,
the stories you shared, the love you gave,
and that hope is no illusion. that hope is more,
much more than everything.
i went dancing, and ate a sandwich,
and had the hiccups, and felt a little sad
but didn't know why.
i passed by your door and smiled and waved,
as always, assuming you were inside.
and why not? if i had listened more closely
would i have noticed the silence
where your laughter should have been?
the absence of that one voice among millions
now fills my ears, and i choke on a goodbye
that my heart is not ready to say.
we were not yet through embracing our hellos.
i had not yet asked all of the questions
that i was saving for next time. next time...
and why do we always say "i lost a friend"
as if it were some carelessness
and not our own humanity to blame?
(though perhaps the two are the same)
as if it wouldn't have happened
if only we'd paid more attention?
but then perhaps that's also true.
now they tell me that the world is round
so there is no beginning or end,
just waves on sand and wind in trees
and sometimes the illusion of more.
but i know that when i met you i met your soul,
and it was one that gave me hope,
an infinite gift as sweet as the dishes you served,
the stories you shared, the love you gave,
and that hope is no illusion. that hope is more,
much more than everything.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
planting promises
the heart's frame filling
and wasting, alternately,
by moment, by day,
placing new ink on old paper,
tries on new jeans,
sets empty shells aside,
plants seeds and listens and dreams.
stirrings are always soft at first,
only boldest tendrils test for purchase
before trusting, reaching, covering, climbing.
life is like that. no great burning
without first small spark.
no deep pool without first silent frost.
and wasting, alternately,
by moment, by day,
placing new ink on old paper,
tries on new jeans,
sets empty shells aside,
plants seeds and listens and dreams.
stirrings are always soft at first,
only boldest tendrils test for purchase
before trusting, reaching, covering, climbing.
life is like that. no great burning
without first small spark.
no deep pool without first silent frost.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
beetroot tints my tongue and teeth.
touch, too, deposits tiny memories upon my skin,
words tickle when spoken too close to my ear
as feet, grazing, skim the floor like
autumn leaves and early snow
and i hold on a moment after
the music ends and i should let go
but you simply smile, and understand
because my hands, too, have left their marks
to remind you where i was
in that instant when we were more
than tongues, teeth, and skin.
touch, too, deposits tiny memories upon my skin,
words tickle when spoken too close to my ear
as feet, grazing, skim the floor like
autumn leaves and early snow
and i hold on a moment after
the music ends and i should let go
but you simply smile, and understand
because my hands, too, have left their marks
to remind you where i was
in that instant when we were more
than tongues, teeth, and skin.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Sunday, May 11, 2008
touching stone
rough stone under five half-moons
breathes in heat, exhales cold,
whispers secrets with vaulted tongues.
the fingerprints of the past
are all over this city,
proof that we are never
very far from what we were.
breathes in heat, exhales cold,
whispers secrets with vaulted tongues.
the fingerprints of the past
are all over this city,
proof that we are never
very far from what we were.
everyday angels
the sound of everyday angels is
kite tails snapping, lover's nail tapping on empty glass.
it's hand-clasp, child's sigh,
rhythm of sandpaper, rustle of sheets.
it is steady breath in empty space
and hot jazz on a cool breeze,
the sound of loving out loud
and dancing in the rain,
eyes closed, ready feet slapping,
hands clapping in time
with hearts flung wider than the wind.
kite tails snapping, lover's nail tapping on empty glass.
it's hand-clasp, child's sigh,
rhythm of sandpaper, rustle of sheets.
it is steady breath in empty space
and hot jazz on a cool breeze,
the sound of loving out loud
and dancing in the rain,
eyes closed, ready feet slapping,
hands clapping in time
with hearts flung wider than the wind.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Thursday, May 08, 2008
wondrous...
the way we stumble through each other's lives
embosomed in beauty and the magic of promise,
like toes in sand and the never-ending potential for a kiss
embosomed in beauty and the magic of promise,
like toes in sand and the never-ending potential for a kiss
Sunday, May 04, 2008
an unassuming inventory
fresh flowers and running water
shade on a sunny day
the smell of st. patrick's cathedral
dancing til your heart aches
compliments from strangers
blessed
blessed
so blessed
shade on a sunny day
the smell of st. patrick's cathedral
dancing til your heart aches
compliments from strangers
blessed
blessed
so blessed
Saturday, May 03, 2008
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
if you know me, truly know me...
i will most definitely probably tell you that i love you.
and i will most certainly mean it.
and i will most certainly mean it.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Sunday, March 16, 2008
unclean things
smell of old alcohol
and other unclean things
nobody's nobody
dirty nails on dirty fingers
hands outstretched, prayer palpitating
pride-like,
child-like,
like me
and other unclean things
nobody's nobody
dirty nails on dirty fingers
hands outstretched, prayer palpitating
pride-like,
child-like,
like me
Monday, March 10, 2008
practically perfect
my friend, did you ever wonder
at the way i came crashing
into your life? with my men
and my music and absolutely no clue
i tested you, i got you tattooed
but did i ever thank you?
i, of so many words, i guess
i could never find just the right way
to say it. thank you.
so simple, too simple i think
for people as deep as ourselves.
very complimentary, we always said
that if we could combine and become
one person we would be the perfect person.
well, practically perfect anyway.
as many silly jokes as we shared
we also waded together through life's pain
and you always held my hand
even though you feared that i would not let you.
smiling at just the right time or saying
'totally' or just letting me tell my stories
and kindly enduring it all, you were there.
and i, who professed to need no one,
will probably never find the words i need
to tell you exactly how much i needed you.
maybe if we thought about it together
we could come up with the perfect way to say it.
well, practically perfect anyway.
at the way i came crashing
into your life? with my men
and my music and absolutely no clue
i tested you, i got you tattooed
but did i ever thank you?
i, of so many words, i guess
i could never find just the right way
to say it. thank you.
so simple, too simple i think
for people as deep as ourselves.
very complimentary, we always said
that if we could combine and become
one person we would be the perfect person.
well, practically perfect anyway.
as many silly jokes as we shared
we also waded together through life's pain
and you always held my hand
even though you feared that i would not let you.
smiling at just the right time or saying
'totally' or just letting me tell my stories
and kindly enduring it all, you were there.
and i, who professed to need no one,
will probably never find the words i need
to tell you exactly how much i needed you.
maybe if we thought about it together
we could come up with the perfect way to say it.
well, practically perfect anyway.
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
this is how giving up feels
pain and pills
how nothing seems to fit
wanting out
inconclusive tests
trying to explain
music without dancing
finding out that they're not what they seem
(and not being able to tell them that you know)
godlessness
groundlessness
faithlessness
weight
waiting
size and sighs
interruptions
sometime voices in the night
the last time i felt pretty
the hole that missing friends have left,
and the memories that won't fill it
needles
noises
the color of cement
and the way my shadow stretches taller
than i will ever be
how nothing seems to fit
wanting out
inconclusive tests
trying to explain
music without dancing
finding out that they're not what they seem
(and not being able to tell them that you know)
godlessness
groundlessness
faithlessness
weight
waiting
size and sighs
interruptions
sometime voices in the night
the last time i felt pretty
the hole that missing friends have left,
and the memories that won't fill it
needles
noises
the color of cement
and the way my shadow stretches taller
than i will ever be
Friday, February 01, 2008
stars back then
oh, but we were stars back then,
burning bright, and senseless
to those who devoured with their eyes
what they could not have from a distance.
what monstrous heights we did reach
before growing cold and falling,
still and silent.
burning bright, and senseless
to those who devoured with their eyes
what they could not have from a distance.
what monstrous heights we did reach
before growing cold and falling,
still and silent.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)