Writer. Demand Poet.
—
Will you meet me
At the end of
The day, to
Reconcile the
Pain to
Clear things up, to
Pour ourselves together
In a glass and
Melt a little?
—
I’m writing small stones as part of the … Read the rest “Clear Things – small stone”
—
my knee is swollen
twice normal. A week busy
taking care of
everyone else and
poo-pooing,
don’t hear
my body whispering.
Now, it being Sunday, the
relentless ache
turns me into
an exhausted heap of
terror.
—
—
late sun drops low
over the reservoir
one circle of light among
the dozen headlamps
already licking the
new english road.
I want to stop. The single
goose on a high rock island
wants me to stop.
the soft … Read the rest “Sun Drops – small stone”
—
Two logs from
Different trees lay
Across each other
Above the pile of ash.
One blue flame,
One heat
Rising.
—
Five oatmeal bowls in the sink;
Mushy grains floating.
Instead I eat Ezekiel bread;
Spouted grains toasted.
It’s true I’ve always been
So wildly different.
— part of the 2013 Mindful Writing Challenge on “Writing Our Way Home”