I Did That

That hair,

that eyebrow

I did that.

Pile of pages

Me.

That smile.

That cry.

Closed eyes and

Tightened fist.

That trip.

20,000 words

That accident.

Out of bed.

Those steps.

Created a family vase

from shattered ceramic

Out of bed again.

Omitting all the

haven’t

can’t

won’t

because they

Don’t

Matter.

Matter

is for the cosmos.

I’m for the moon.

Read

Listened

Looked

Responded

when matter changed.

I stopped listening

To lies

Long

To act in the

short.

I looked for sun.

I cleaned up the blood.

I laid out clues

that were followed.

Talked to the stranger,

took the compliment.

Saw and

was not ashamed.

Praised through jealousy

Smiled through tears

Celebrated grief

Explained fears

I did that.

I cast a shadow and

Learned to love the darkness.

Wouldn’t give up then

Finally let go

So all the hands

could hold.

Climed the hill

treated the blisters

saw the empty trees

for the boughs

They were meant for.

Built us on a narrow road

tilled the grass

swept the gravel

for a place to weather the storm

and wait for bloom.

Not today.

But

Stands to reason

I will again

I did that.

(For the One who reminds me what I can do.)

Rolling and Action

Setting the Stage

 

Take it in
Or move it down
Inside your brain
Swallowed sound

Of raging voices
Screaming truths
Convinced of lack
Inked with proof

A game of words
Pronouns defend
Lighted eyes
Deferred send

Now you see
Body real
Indulging full
The hurt you feel

A twist of truth
A curl of cuts
Under lights
Marks and ruts

In the veneer
Of… fine
And talk later
…Sometime

Good to relate
Walk in shoes
Laced to go past
And forward, a ruse

Lit with love
And real passion
Audio dubbed
Broadcast captioned

Back to base
Edit for use
See what’s there
In flesh, not obtuse

It’s a brilliant idea
Shy short on conception
Third act falls apart
Only basement perfection

Still a story to tell
Commit to these players
Immersed in this world
Of witches and sooth-sayers

Learning to trust
Willing to believe
The feelings will endure
A nervous reprieve

Rolling and action
only mean start
to the ones pretending
not the ones staged apart

Her Light

She is

not your spotlight

Focusing attention in the darkness

calling everyone to look

So you see

What it is you can do.

Not your search light

To guide you into harbor

when you’ve sailed your ships

Against warning

Into black and chopped waves.

Not to blame for

Being the siren who lured you back.

She was singing for herself

Not the mirror you held up

So she could see the faults

Not her hand that

Turned and burned you instead

The silence of your fury

Louder than the

Sighs of your disinterest.

Not your torch,

to frighten back creatures

You don’t understand.

She has her own monsters

creeping to her doors

and learning her language.

Carrying torches

Only grinds down

arthritic arms.

She put hers down.

She can’t do it

Too heavy.

The lights are too bright.

headaches are

far too dug in and planted

Photosynthesis the

Power line to

Migration.

Her own screwed in

Halogen

Fluorescent

Mixed white and blue and

Orange

Not matching when seen back

in her balanced eyes.

Her palms aren’t

Scarred and fibrous

As as her heart

to hold the light bulb

In place with bare hands.

It’s low watt but

Still

her fingers blister

fluid leaking

slipping

And she doesn’t have the grip

To twist

Your glass fragile

Illumination

In place.

She is candles and

altars with incense.

Low glow and quiet alone

With her disciple.

One you whispers,

knowing a harsh breath

kills the flame.

Happy in the room

She left dark.

The sun rises tomorrow

Isn’t it pretty to think

So dawn soft

Smoothed hair

Hazy unfocused

hands

Touched in shadows.

Chasing away the light

For just a little longer

Not needing to be

The brightness

But wanted to be

the still silhouette

Casting her own

Direction.

From her light.

One More Tonight

I’ve thought about it

I’m ready.

I’m really, finally ready.

I know it’s scary but

It’s something I want to do

I’ve always wanted to do

Thought I wanted

It’s time.

I have to,

Right?

That’s what people do,

Isn’t it?

Can’t keep on like this,

Night and fading music

Empty glass and

Last one in the pack

Pack

I should pack

If I’m going-

But, if I’m not leaving tomorrow

I don’t have to wrinkle all

My clothes in a bag tonight.

I don’t even need a suitcase yet.

In fact, I could just pick up what

I need once I get there.

I’m sure I’ll manage.

I won’t need anything anyway.

Be so excited to get there.

That’s what everyone says.

Be so busy I won’t have time to

Think

about anything else.

What I left.

Or didn’t do.

Far too busy.

Always so busy.

I was thinking about

that time, remember?

We were all there,

It was so late

everyone was laughing.

No one wanted to leave.

Some of them did.

We all have to.

Can’t stay forever.

Don’t want to be

The last one at the party.

Last one.

What about one last one?

For old time’s sake.

For the road.

For tonight and tomorrow.

Maybe one more tomorrow.

Tonight isn’t ready.

Tomorrow isn’t here yet.

One more.

Tonight.

Falling Smiles

Laugh

That’s it.

Go on now.

It’s okay. It’s hard.

Try again

That’s not quite…

you have laughed before?

Right?

No problem. Start smaller.

How about about a smile?

Just at the corners.

A bit up. Towards the sky.

A little on each side.

Little more.

Maybe a little more.

You’re twitching.

Oh dear.

How else can I explain this…

Remember when something good happened.

Tell me how you felt. Feel what your face does.

Not like that.

I’m not putting this well.

Christmas morning?

Warm bath after being in the cold?

A hug on the couch?

Yes. You’re nodding. Yes.

And…?

Nothing.

Nothing?

Are you quite sure you’re not a sociopath?

No, no, I’m kidding.

Maybe it wasn’t funny.

I’m sorry.

No, please don’t be upset.

I only wanted to hear you laugh.

That’s not laughing.

That’s…

Oh dear.

I’ve done this all wrong.

Maybe…

Damn.

I’m sorry.

I’ll go.

….trip….

…..fly….

….crash…..

Ow.

Did you…

See?

You did.

You smiled.

I guess I’ll have to keep falling.

Exposed Wire

The electric doesn’t zing 

Because the wiring is frayed
Changed the bulbs

Changed the switch 
No light 
The other one

Half of the circuit

Turning on

Turning up
Still dark
Still static
Only risking 

entrance, exit of 

current 

being the conductor

not the dispersive
Peel the burn

skin charred 

from faulty connections
Turn on the light. 

Help and Hummus

Vanilla and Brownie Batter Hummus from Aldi.

 

Sometimes hummus is help.
It’s luxurious enough to be beyond
our everyday.
At least my everyday.
It’s exorbitant, decadent.
Sidewalk coffee or
an un-needed book.
When they’re all needed.
Almost as much as the help.

Sometimes, that’s all we offer ourselves.
An acceptable extravagance.
As if help is something to be saved
and spent miserly.
Only so much to go around.
Eventually no more in the bowl.

Sometimes we need more.
Help needs to be more.
If we can’t ask,
and it can’t tell,
we scrape our knuckles
scooping up the last morsel
left us.
Not feeling worth
another exchange,
us for a new opening.

Sometimes help is there.
Our doubt and bewilderment
don’t change that.
Until it does
and our pulling from the past
everyone not and don’t
chases it from there
to gone.
It showed up.

Sometimes help is delicious.
There for the sheer delight of it.
Plated in front of you,
served for your enjoyment.
Pushing away from the table
as if you don’t deserve
only wastes the sate
you could know.
Allow the indulgence.
Savor it.
Roll it over your tongue.
Lick the heat and
swallow the sweetness.

Sometimes help standing in your kitchen
can be as deserved as
the hummus on the counter.
Just as real.
Just as tempting,
as emptying
if you choose it.
To fill you,
inspire, conspire
to stoke your fire
for existing.
Take the help,
lick the plate,
enjoy the taste
as everything it can be
and as it is.