random lines of recent journals, dropped, gathered, and restrung
like pearls or knuckles or green light bulbs in the chandelier
pt I
I dream of head on collisions
wake with a start on impact
breathless and grateful
slash piles like pimples dot the slopes and meadows
trails snake along the mounds left there to meander and dwindle
melt underneath a boulder or rock face
I need a big old tree snatcher
pull my head out of the sand
an aerial lift wrapped around my neck
yank and dig out the root ball first
your past is your past, your trail to it is fastened
to who you are, like this forest
arriving at the top of warrior I gasped, scrambled like a spider
cactus growing from a ton of granite
craftier than me and as dedicated to the notion that we could fly
if all else fails just make your way down
all the flowers watered before sunrise
I love my judge, I hate my judge
replace it over and over again with understanding or at least compassion
I would love to have a magic wand
she had to grieve twice
and that put an end to that
the sun set in swirls like pink angel hair
the moon rose a bit hazy as if it was in a glass shower
we watched it soap up behind a steam bath
reflection like father like son sometimes
one or the other was hidden
I’ve narrowed my right turns as he told me to do
come face to face with my own lonely boring life
“What’s stranger than growing up?”
sometimes the connection never seals completely
distracted, and a little edgy, it’s alright
a cow, some goats, numerous ducks
all wrecked havoc upon my home while I slept
glorious inspiration and strength
I’ll just walk with my dog
pt II
we cover the world and back in our chance meetings
melting like frosting on a cake
still warm not yet ready for all that sugar
new found love layered
like a dobos torte
as big as my damn thumb
or the milky way
the ghost of that conversation
with me now as I sit here on this beautiful morning
more forgiving somehow, less boastful
unless it is with a sarcastic haughtiness
the source of this scratchy fuzziness
I wonder if I came down too far, the air thick
with wet and wonder and I leaned
back on my swing, yellow hair flying
like a flag of acquiescence reached
such a depiction of space and face and landscape
be it meatloaf or bread or pie dough
the lizard showed up in the cards
for good reason, for good dreams
it does not involve anything one would call reckless
it was his passion that became our hobby
it is why I do not mind spiders
my only contrariness in this life-long relationship
“So far, so good”
pt III
my purpose sits across the room from me like a ghost
funny how you can have a story and then not
like losing a leg
you get a phantom one
divorce still lives within your skull matter
thirty lashes delivered for my poor mothering
a sweet bird breeze passes me on the sunrise porch
punchy and annoyed by politics
I am just a baby maker alone
no more than the schedule that I keep
as if writing practice was just another cog
in the wheel of toys that a child grows
hopefully enough confidence to fill a playground
like pooling water on a porch awning
the sag above her head threatened to burst
spill yesterday all over her blue bic ink
confidence is a hard and earnest worker
fuck us and fix the plumbing, rudimentary and rude
I don’t mean it that way, oranges so soft they masquerade
as bedsheets or a silk blouse
being honest is not an off switch to the fire
but it puts everything in the shade
the abelia bushes are not as populated
as last year, I can’t invest too much
in things I may inevitably kill
guilt is not my strong suit
rain big and rain hard
in the kingdom of creativity
as the smokey sunset turned the house pink
I am scattered around it like electrons
I dream of escalators
spiraling backwards and nobody
notices that we are attached
to nothing
think kindly, speak clearly, love fully
think clearly, speak fully, love calmly
think fully, speak calmly, love clearly
tepid, darn it, I need to be careful inside my head
amen, sister
image from Unsplash.com
II
pocket poet 
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