Reanimated Lavender Granola Switchblade Nun rides again.

Wednesday, January 31, 2024


 Some say this the two-hundredth of January,
and are as weary of it as if it were 
cold leftover meatloaf again
or their boss's face.

I shall miss it, though.

When I was 25, I saw Jim off at the train station,
his rucksack slung over a bony shoulder,
and I cried on the empty platform
not realizing until he was gone
that I loved him. 

January brought heavy wet snow that made me sore with shoveling,
then it turned to ice for a while, and now slush.
My heart is forever surprised and jumps when touched,
then sags as it dies like the snow, a stuttering death that repeats itself. 
I was wrecked as the melt set in,
the old familiar malaise in its favorite straight back chair.

Some say this is the two-hundredth of January,
and feel numb with it as if medicated. 
I hate to see it go, as I always do, my favorite season except for Fall.
Its sharp, unsentimental freeze breaks my ease,
and I know, even as it goes,
that I love it for how it hurts me
letting me know I still can care. 


for What's Going On? "It's Wednesday" 

Music: Mazzy Star Fade Into You

Friday, January 19, 2024

Inner Thoughts & Feelings

 I keep a skull inside my head
like a gravy boat for holidays
stuffed inside a china hutch,
a child sent to its room.

I talk to people at parties,
on the job, riding the bus,
as if I were immortal, the
Eternal Co-Worker, the Passenger Outside of Time.

I act as if there were no skull inside my head.

Is my affectation of skulllessness hideous?
What if I could remove the hidden skull,
would my hideousness become unbearable?
Would this poem float right out of my head?

I keep a skull inside my head
and smile as if I were on stage.
The hidden skull defines my shape,
but will shed me like an old jacket in the end.

Am I unbearable?
Was I unbearable before I said all of this, 
or only after?
So now you know, and I know about you as well.
Let's kiss now, don't be bashful
and don't retch. 

Wednesday, January 17, 2024

Bridge Over Water Lilies

 My heart rides in the petals of a water lily--
my coat a pebbled shore.
Here is the bridge of turquoise stones,
magpie calls, and bamboo bones
with the blind sky waiting, waiting, evermore. 

My heart rides in the blind sky waiting--
my love a wounded bird.
Here is the bridge of mica memories.
the lost valise, and aromas of home
with the blue water singing, singing, a flowing word. 

My days are blue water singing--
in a ewer made of hours.
Here is the bridge of goldfish scales,
old china dishes, and copper nails
all riding in the petals of a lily, a lily, my water bower. 

for What's Going On? "Bridges"

"Water Lily Pond" by Claude Monet

Music: Aisha Badru "Bridges"