Posts published in “Year: 2006”

“I have to get up
and move around. If I sit, I’ll
get up and go Psshhoo.”

Grandma gets up,
standing,
wobbles
in her small frame
and catches herself
on the frame of the door,
walks toward the counter,
grabbing
chairs, one
at a time along her way,
to see the screendoor,
the damage done, and
I feel she fell
some time earlier,
is recovering,
and she does not want
to give in or give up,
even if it means she’s
really giving herself
a chance, though
she knows if she does,
she seems weak,
even if she is
the truly
strongest woman
I’ve ever met
and she doesn’t
even know she is
yet
I cannot tell her
for she’ll just
swear and sit and say,
“No, no, no– Honestly,
no.”

such sweet apron of the sky,
these clouds, wand’ring by,

she sits
in a blue-mid, red-tipped,
“pansies,” on the chest shirt,
half-crying, half-CRYing
over the Mother, her daughter,
being so paternal, a knack
for the dramatic, and seeing
my confusion, a light introduction
of when she was the mother, her
Mother the child, grown, she
smiles, recalling the freedom, hers.

the voice of a young wind-piercer hints at seconds passing;
as though unheard, they find way from chin/neck to let known their being,
and they are, in all ways, known now.

his demeanor was of a man wrought with a madness; a madness only surpressed by the peace of simple things, such as the management of seconds, and not moments.

there is a world in front of you; there is an adventure around you; there is a world a part from you; and you just sit there, staring, reading, moving your eyes as though they were your flailing arms, but all you ever hear is the sound of cackling songwrites and bitchy clickings of this board, this 6×18.

and he, this
naive fool
waits for the perfect time
to tell her but nothing ever happens
enough to bring her ’round;

and she, this
waiter, too,
holds on to what may
for hope it will change
when they find the right moment
to wander together in wonder of
the days left before them and the suns
and daughters yet to be made.

i wake and sit with these dreams, of day, of us
because i cannot fathom you at night
when i’m too alone to see the world in a darkened room
without your light to drag me
into fits of you again;

i wake and sit with these dreams, of day, and of us
and when we talk, they’re shattered
by your words of/to others and i’m just dumb
in front of your life, because i will always hide
behind you.

i wait
i sit
i wait and i sit with these intentions of a glory-filled
day with you to lead into a lifetime, the second life,
and you expect me to bring these thoughts to fruition
when you’re already decided on another and
others wait for their turn? why should i?
why should i be as they are and just give you
time until you’re done with the other numbers and mine’s been called?

as one crawls the sliver-white screen,
dressed in brown-tan-light best, their fingers/hands/
legs attach in point and follow lengthened nose,
a nostr-less wonder of hair-thin origin,
diddling way o’er rock brought-home to
human-hand painted shells,
one of which boasts, proudly,
to be of hulk, and other of cookie monster.