Tuesday, July 31, 2012

We do have these gifts.

A storm -cleared Pacific Ocean by Garrison Lake.

It was on this day
our prayers filled the void,
our heads bowed low
worshiping the light
in the void.

And here too we experienced
the loss,
paradise floating off the horizon
before our eyes
could adjust to the dark.

Life is cruel, you shouted.

I had no answer for you, then.
Or now.

I only know that at sunset, we'll marvel once again.
And we'll suffer another loss, once again.

Tuesday, July 24, 2012

What I don't carry fills the rest of my bag...

I pack lightly these days:
comfortable shoes
a raincoat.

If I need something badly I can purchase it anywhere.
Someone is bound to have all the things we ever want or need
or inventing something we
don't know yet we want.

The rest: 
sad thoughts
un-packable regrets
wordless thanks 
gift-less objects 
each scent
each sight
a tiny molecule in the trunk of loss that follows me everywhere.

Friday, July 20, 2012

Attention Surplus Syndrome

Thirteen and still not kissed.
Bumps, distractions, irritations
Middle of the day in middle school. 

She buys an ice-cream cone, knowing He'll see and stop and talk on the way back to class. For a good twenty minutes, she watches the basketball game He's playing, knowing He'll want a lick or two, and then...  

A very tall girl in red gym shorts, she used to play basketball, before she thought of licking this cone slowly, letting sugar puddles form on her closed fist and drip down her long torso wetting her gym shirt. She saw this in a t.v. show and took notes, when she still took good notes. 

The lunch- end- stampede scatters the crowd, and she loses sight of Him. 

She rushes to the bathroom to wash up and text him,and now she's late for class and sure to gain detention after school. 

She has to find another way.

Thursday, July 12, 2012


How could this be,  
this dreaming about food all the time?
I could make lemonade,
or the
icy thing on top of the other icy thing,
tart, refreshing
orchard mellow on the tongue,
something to quell my thirst,
or dull my hunger.

But I don't.

I leaf through the
many cookbooks I  don't use to cook with;
and like shoes I never wear
and lipsticks colors I can't match,
those foods remain dreams I could have
and life-choices I could make
in my twenty four hungry hours.


Wednesday, July 11, 2012


A soothing sight
without a nod to the fallen leaves
or the splintered wings
after the last storm.

This sunset promises
tomorrow's lines of hope
in long strokes of yellow and red and maroon
without a word of regret for last night.