wind chimes in winter

.

sometimes the sound

of wind chimes

in winter

almost breaks 

my heart

.

snow in autumn

.
The snows today
are beautiful
from the first light sifted flour
without wind to the now
medium flakes falling
through pockets of calm
between being whipped
by the wind into swirls
sudden direction changes
making me dizzy.

This too shall pass
it won't stick because
it's still November
and tomorrow will be
warmer.  But you still
have to clean off
your car today.
.

Eating the animal cracker

Last week I was a tad self-destructive.  Not enough water, a lot of rage, not enough time to write, too much frustration and helplessness, avoiding going to bed because I know I won't sleep:  All these things add up to some increasingly poor decisions when combined with increasing pain and decreasing sleep.  How could they not?

I don't want to spiral down like I do sometimes.  I don't want to get stupid at work and say dumb things because my filters crumble at a certain point of sleeplessness.  What I don't want to do, I do.  Alas.

On my birthday, I got a letter from OWCP informing me that they received the letter I sent at the end of July about my address change, and they're sending my file to some coding person or something for review even though the last time I called, the claims examiner clearly indicated that she was the one who accepted or rejected new codes.  All I had to do was call and talk to my claims examiner's supervisor to get any kind of response after the messages and talking to other people didn't work.  I'm so tired of this. 

Their letter crossed mine on the way.  Mine was longer, more specific, and a great deal more emotionally involved. 

What do they care if it takes
over three months to acknowledge
and process an address change? 
What do they care if my doctors
have been trying to add codes
and get bills paid since February,
so I can get treated and maybe
decrease the pain a little?  It's not
their bodies that feel the pain
or their hearts that get smashed around
by inconsistency, misinformation, threats,
and delays.  They don't lay awake at night
or have to try not to cry at work when pain
spikes hit.  They don't have to pay off
my school loans for the next thirty years,
the ones I took on to educate myself enough
to get a good  job even as a cripple,
something their website claims
is their responsibility but that they refuse
to do in practice.  What do they care?

I don't want to be bitter.  But at times like these, I can't seem to help it. 
Another year older,
another year of pain,
no better at coping
but somehow still sane. 
Maybe that's all we can dream of.  Anything else is just icing on the animal cracker.

the impermanence of things

 .
three months after the accident
the bruise beneath my fingernail
looks like a Chinese brush painting
made with blood

a tree on a hilltop
overlooking the sunset
all of it slowly floating away
complete with calligraphed characters
in the upper right hand corner

emphasizing the impermanence of things
.

Looking forward to shivering

.
wondering
how cold it has to be
outside before I can stop
turning on my AC at night

feeling very privileged
to be wondering
this in the first place
.