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Showing posts from January, 2014

The Bird That Sings When The Dawn is Still Dark

When the morphine came there was a catholic moment when I thought I should refuse I closed my eyes and visualized myself without it and decided it better that this medicine is used It helped. But not enough. The doctors had to do it again. And still . There was that moment of guilt. That single flinching instant where I have seen life as a game and points collected for purity No drink Drugs Mastery of self All at once swept away in a single decision At night, later in my hospital bed I did not dare to dream nor even sleep for fear the pain returned And when they asked me if I needed morphine I finally broke down that wall between me and all of the things that were designed for this specific moment and this specific use There was a moment of sickness very brief and then I felt At first, not necessarily free nor happy but focused As if I was not in dire pain and I began to see that this body that holds me can withstand much more than being

Cherry Valance

In utero my mother ate cans of cherries So it goes Cherries are euphoria I waste nothing Sometimes, when I dream I dream in red I wake A length of decorative veil anchored to my sturdy bed A solid, cool feel in white sheets like whipped cream and hot cherry pie I want you. Tied. To my bed. My teeth. Your neck.

A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Woman. With Puppy.

She does not hope She plans Life spins its web within her and by her and she enjoys the earthy feeling of sand the cold of water between her toes the salt air She throws a piece of bread into the sky watching the gulls swoop down and take it from her hand she laughs as they dance in the wind squawking birds won't quit Building castles Her black and white dog jumps at the chance to stick its dark nose into the sand It comes up a white dot echo of bozo She laughs and calls out Her voice carries downwind The dog makes a mad dash to her side and she is just as happy to let it run off again She is happy. They are happy. It is that one moment in life. Where everything makes sense. Because nothing makes sense. We paint with simple strokes Watercolors forgive She returns home And tunes her Cello to the memory that the tune matches place and sound - tuning to a hall should always be different than tuning to a chamber And Plays East of eden Draw

I Change

I change. I'm not always the same. The tensions in me are similar to the ones in you I am pulled between evil and good. I grow I reach into new parts of my brain. The thoughts that collide and feelings that hide When I am honest with myself and you I dissolve The simple elements of my existence blur the lines between we two The darkness of life - escapes from inside It sees the thing it has become And it screams. I am become dust. I am the cat. All places are alike. Even now. And you. A husband. A child. Somewhere - The lamb lays down with the lion. A shepherd tends quietly to his flock. A job that slowly kills you beating time against the clock One life makes a difference to another. One heart. See how we are.