The Weight of Forgiveness

The Weight of Forgiveness

Lightness

Freedom

And just a touch

of moral superiority

Isn’t that what we’re

meant to get

from forgiveness

Wrongs released

and hurts mended

Rivers crossed

and ramparts of

differences breached

But what if that

isn’t the case at all

What if by giving forgiveness

we don’t un-weight but instead

yoke ourselves down with

the burden of it

by keeping ties instead of cutting

we find ourselves lashed

with rope that chokes and cuts

and grinds its filament fibers

into our skin, leaving

wounds we can’t see

at least until that slightest of

skin cracks fills with

infection and rot

What if we don’t give

forgiveness but instead

take on a heft

far heavier

harder

more forever

than the hurt

we are meant to

absolve

can gilding a dead

flower cost more

in preservation and

effort expended

when the kindness

is to return it

as the cycle

dictates

and not lug it

around and molten

monument

to what’s lost

and what to do instead

forget

walk until there

is no more land

and no more steps

and no more words

to fill empty space

and replacement poxy

for broken hearts?

What if the

matter of forgiveness

isn’t the grace of air that

Elevates is

but the

drowns us

Unthought Thoughts Us

Unthought thoughts

Mind drives away from

city security

down winding rural road

where grass grows higher

hiding

snakes

screws

splintered boards

rusted joints

oranged and weather beaten

into submission

behind sheds and

outbuildings

nails eager for bare feet

begging from buried spaces

for admission and acceptance

life’s blood

the places we avoid

don’t even look at

the mangled earth

left to rot

not forgotten

more painful

willfully ignored

and neglected

apathy as a

determined choice

even ambivalence

gotten wrong

not strong enough

to bury wrongs

in more than a

shallow grave

tetanus

protect us

if only there was

us

unthought

Where Does Everything Go?

Where Does Everything Go?

Atomic displacement

A Feeling someone

left the room

just before you

got there

Not a scent

Not a wayward

strand of hair

lingering among the dust

not a thumb smudge

on a tumbler

A Feeling

Deeper than skin

receptors

vibration

that hasn’t stopped

echoing

When the Feeling

leaves

Where does it go?

Everything stays

Water to wine

wood to fire

Skin to putrefaction

All collected in the

balance

The missing element

unbalancing the scales

Something goes

Love to apathy

Hate to acceptance

Grief to nostalgia

to melancholy

to despair

to

to

to

nothing

Not every particle

walked out the door

Not every element

covalent bonding

Not everything

stays

The ones behind

know

not everything

goes

Preface at the End

I like to know how movies end

before I start

How much do I invest

if prescience is possible

When death is far away

can I love a little more

My time is that precious

My heart is that sacred

My grief is that engrossing

that a spoonful

sours any milk I kept behind

Would stone instead of bone

gravel in place of saliva

wet mortar for blood

find me any more secure

than a pallet of promises

The condensation is inside the house

windows turned to block glass

no where to see

no one on the other side

only what I already

allowed in the house

I can’t see

Run from room to room

right brain to left

and I still can’t see

how it ends

How can I manage

another day

another night

another forsaken turn

on a wheel

that I want to smash

and recycle into

cages for tomato plants

but I can’t find a door

big enough to let it out

and I kill every plant I touch

Should I be the one

behind the metal

past brought it here

unwilling to future

present

enough

to build

to keep

the ones outside

safe

from

me

It’s Not About the Taco

It’s Not About the Taco

It’s not

It never is

It’s about the tremblings

at the stove

About did I get food?

Should I get food?

Can I afford to get food?

About a long day at work

Grateful?

Spiteful?

Do I have a job?

Do they know where

my money goes?

Do I still have a job?

Please

Remember

this is all in my head

banging pots

scraping metal

billowing

and

bounding off

dirty wall

over open flames and plastic tools

Don’t stalk in corners

Loud footfalls in hallways

Please

Announce

Don’t shout

I can’t hear

But I will burn myself

Down

I will fall

It’s about not

having the leg

strength

to bend and fix

one more thing

About not having the arm

strength

to push down another feeling

About not having the

throat

to stifle one

more scream

Because I

only have

one

voice left

It’s not about

the flaw and

the mess and

the mistake and

the collapse

not about

me

But only me

left

when

it’s done

Quartered

quartered

four chambers

valves between

one leaking and

flooding

whooshing

too much

in one half

the other

starved

valves between

anatomy set to drain

right scant

left swollen and

sluggish

skin dimpled

outer layers

turning to stone

fibered and

scarred

adhered and

atrophied

drawn four ways

and you

stand

still

a drill

crooked

and twisted

wrong space

wrong side

metal shaving

under fingernails

probably

not enough

for tetanus

probably

but

there a shot

for that

don’t need

anything

don’t slip on

the blood as

you

slide

in and

leave again

Missing The

For my co-dependent leanings- reminders that choking halts organic growth. Let go.

Missing the view

onto a courtyard

from a hotel room

never reserved

Not regretting the

last glass of red

when the cork

is still in the bottle

Reeling from the

first fight

when a dozen

polite words

expand the history

that hasn’t been

Not forgetting a face

not memorized

Not letting go

of a hand

never taken

Not knowing

morning eyes

and midnight toes

Not recognizing

fine from fine

okay from okay

hurt from hurt

true from true

A memorized road

driven with eyes

closed

but needing a map

Remembering everything

because it

hasn’t happened yet

Primed

Paintbrush
Slapping gray over your brain
The same general color
But thick enough to form a barrier

Thick adherent plastic
Stretched
Over styrofoam of rotten meat
Can feel the flesh under
But it looks nothing
Like what is was created

Some parts manage to shine
Through
Uneven swirls
Happy
Scared
Anxious
Escaping
Or trapped
Driven by the
Viscosity
Or
Emulsion

Or separation
Of the opposing
Elements of
The paint

Staring
Knowing you are staring
Knowing you cannot
Stop
Because
Scared eyes might
Pull away
Forever

Damage rot

Shines thorough

On Top Of

On Top Of

If I hold my pose

And hold my breath

Lean into the pain

Away from stability

Crane

And peak

And peer

I can almost see

on top of

What’s on top

I don’t remember

another dust I forgot

On top of

The paper

That was suggested

Not mandatory

Not have-to

More half-two

Meant to be three

But I’m lucky

To see one

So I guess that

Does it

Like that last

That did it

Can’t remember

When I did it

Last

Gather my

Pennies

My books

Secreted away

See

I like their dust

My wrinkles match

Favorite pages

Begging to be

Remembered

While I’m

Hiding

To be forgotten

Doors and

Blankets

And a

Reeeeeeeally

Long

Garage

Door

Closing

Right there

On top of

Me

While I’m below

Everything

Everyday

And

Every breath

Is a pose

Toes curling

Not releasing

Digging

For control

On top of

All that

I have to

Maybe when I’m

Alone

Under

Incompatible

People aren’t incompatible

She said

It’s that someone

Isn’t rising and learning

And meeting and changing

Seems unlikely

Turning a Montague into

A Capulet

With not even a nurse

For some comfort

A flower in a city

Sidewalk unwilling

But growing regardless

Doomed to trampling

Incompatible or

Foolhardy

City sous vide

In a cottage kitchen

Too elaborate

Too unknown

Incompatible or

Self-injurious daydream

Oxygen

Apathy

Fury running

Code eglot

Cell debris

Connecting it

Ready or

Not

Stick on

The axis

Soon facing

Each other

Longitude

Polar

Magnetic

Take over

Incompatible

Inverted

Corrected

Connected

Until the season

Ends