POEM: down the drain

                                                      

clogged, fine

let it overflow

filth pouring out

spilling onto the floor
sopping everything
in disgusting muck
let it sit there and seep
through the cracks

deep into every space

soaking the dry fibers

swelling membranes
until they are waterlogged
with the raw sewage
and then you have to see it
all of it



POEM: before

  

taken 7/09 the eve of my mastecomy

I weep for the earnest face
framed by smooth hair
her calm betrayed
by frightened eyes
that visible dread
almost enviable
a dull blade
compared to experience


my tears shed from a future
filled with unexpected loss
heaped upon the pyre
of what she had anticipated
sobbing for what could have been
for my present reflection
more unrecognizable, yet
just tauntingly familiar enough


I long to tightly encircle
that intact visage
protected in my arms
stroke her smooth hair
oh that lovely smooth hair
and tell her, murmur
whisper in her ear softly
something…but what?

I cannot tell her the truth
too soon to reason away
this much heartless reality
so I would tell her only
that I will try to love her
realizing it won’t be enough
but knowing it is all that’s left
for us both

POEM: high anxiety

the human body cannot sustain
high levels of anxiety
for very long
the acute state of utter despair
will wane
automatically

at least for a little while
a means of self-protection
from the damage such intensity
could wreak

like labor pains
rest comes during the brief calm

between desperation & numbness
even knowing the storm will swell

once more

and when it does

realization will hit harder

with each passing wave

taking my breath away
with the exquisite pain
of the unknown

becoming manifest

POEM: the limiting grasp of earth

there are some truths
not easily comprehended
until anguish clears the way
a sudden raging flood
torrential force
sweeping along
all manner of debris
leaving smooth, silty chaos
in its wake
tangled roots, revealed
flailing, torn free
from the limiting grasp of earth

and the relentless grip of the status quo

POEM: here I go again

I am here again
in that same place
the precipice before the fall
only this time I know
all too well
what the ground looks like
before I hit it

POEM: in the telling

silent memories
are lost
all the unspoken stories
of generations
abandoned, forgotten
every one is like a little death
erasing bit by bit
the essence of a person
ripped apart

by the cruel hands of time

piece me together
word by word

after I’m gone

please
tell my stories
the ones you remember
even the ones
you only think you do
share them well and often
so that I may live on
in the telling

POEM: pebbles tossed

how will I learn to cope
to cope, to cope, to cope
all my life
all life
is about that
coping
coping with the worst
the best
the everything that is

we think each day
is a course
to be finished
but there is no line

no path to follow
only circles
rings
pebbles tossed
at random