healing

I just want someone to kiss it
make it better.

The Stranger

pages tangled in my sheets

late night late spring memorial sunday porch conversation

until I hear the tone of my voice
I do not realize how hard it has hit me

it is a real kick in the ass
for this atheist to admit she needs an altar

it is going to take a while.

There is sand in my pocket.

I know it is from that Los Angeles beach
where I sat on the edge of the continent three years ago.
Things were changing even then.
Those pants (homemade) must not want me to forget something.

what I've been missing

do you trust me he asks about something silly
as his arm brushes my hair
I consider the question
and answer yes. I do. I trust him.
It surprises me to know it is the truth.

it happens gradually, doesn’t it

strawberries

I can blame it on the strawberries
if they hadn't been so ripe
full, beautifully red...

I wrap my lips around the tips
like inviting nipples
the sweet explosion on my tongue
my eyes close in pleasure

what I cannot tell him

he is like my breath
and I am gasping

I imagine we are standing outside.

During a gentle afternoon snow storm,
I am still. Listening to the silence.
Letting it creep through my soul.
I shut my eyes, turn my face to the sky.
Feel nothing but the gentle caresses of the flakes
on my cheeks, my lids, my lashes.
It isn’t quite enough, I want more.
I open my mouth extend my eager tongue.
Wait for the first flake to alight. Melt.
To enjoy all of these things at once.

I can feel something arrive.
An emotion, not mine. It grows, glows into me.
I am embraced, somehow enveloped.
And my tongue catches a kiss
that melts into my heart.

Old Salty Dog Blues

I remember that man.
In that rented chilly mostly empty room.
Marveling over young me naked but for a white pirate blouse.
Compelled to pick up a guitar, strange look on his face,
smiling into my eyes.
Singing that song with a great delight-
a proposal, a seduction.

tenderness

I wonder where it is. The lack of it touches me the most. It seems to be the one thing that he desires though he cannot see it. Does not even seem to consider it. Does not miss it, though the gaping wound in his heart bleeds and bleeds all over his soul.

This morning when I got up I found lying on the floor my notebook open to a page with only these words on it “mathematically disharmonious.” I cannot remember exactly why I wrote them down.

something I learned from the cats

how to appreciate the sun

almost brutish

the pre-glacial, sub-glacial
vernacular dance of rock

(far beyond liquid)

the convergence of ice and debris
forced us apart

what performed this maneuver
on our behalf?

too cynical to let go into the joy

but wise enough to embrace it nonetheless

Dear Lard,

Thank you for Janice and Lydia.

you got bookmarks?

sorry I turned into Neil Kennedy

please chalk it up
to late night no pain meds
want to sleep but can’t
want to read but can’t
too tired
nervous about my fever
pitching and rolling in
hormone adjustment blues