a little thanks

thankful today

in English and real life

cello and snow rhyme

When your eye says no

Today was the kind of day that goes like this.

Me: Hi, eyeball, I'm going to gently put this piece of plastic in you, so I can see.

My eyeball: No.

Me: Oh, I'm so sorry. Do you have an eyelash or something that's irritating you?

M.E.: No.

Me: Is there something I can do to help?

M.E.: No.

Me: So, can I just put this in and then leave you alone?

M.E.: No. N. O. Nonononono. Have I made myself clear?

Me: Perfectly. So, how about some glasses today?

Birthday questions between book chapters

Why, do you suppose, is it so hard for me to

rest--to focus only on ignoring my own 

entropy--when it is so recharging to my 

soul? Is this constant excuse of attending 

to the entropy around me instead, especially 

when I need rest so desperately, another 

series of the small acts of self-sabotage I 

am so good at not noticing myself doing 

until I write about them?

Tomorrow's pledge

I will ignore should

and do what needs to be done 

hibernation, rest

plans for this birthday

Plans for this birthday include

French toast, apple crisp, tea, 

the couch, blankets, music, 

hibernation, limited human 

contact, pain medication, and 

BOOK. Book. book. BOoK.

bookBooKbOOkBooKbook.

They exclude news, opinions, 

politics, brainlessly repeated 

rhetoric, and any internet not 

directly related to writing with 

the exception of the blog I am 

going to create for me 

and a friend 

to share.

already

When did this happen?

Trees stripped so bare already

November half gone

Sunday afternoon, autumn

and when the wind is

not blowing I want to

stop and stand in this

sunlight recharging

storing up warmth

until I get too stiff

from cold air and 

have to move again

the shame of late autumn skies

Sky blushes deep pink,

ashamed of bare branches, 

but spring will come again.

November gales

On the sides of homes,

gales of November slap rain: 

last wrath of autumn?

Autumn means

The cuddliest

box elder bug in the world 

just wants to snuggle.

me and the box elder bug swarm (again)

Yay, it's warm again!

says me and the box elder bug swarm 

as we bask in the last (?) breath 

of summer. They must think 

we bonded because later they visit me 

at home, and they are terrible guests 

who won't leave no matter how 

many times I tell them it's 

really time for them to go.

Revenge of the Slow Cooker: Brain vs. Stomach, part 14

Stomach: That sure smells good.

Brain: Sure does.

Stomach: We should eat it.

Brain: It's not done yet.

Stomach: When will it be done?

Brain: Hours from now.  Here, have some of this to tide you over.

Stomach: Don't wanna.  Want to eat thing that smells good.

Brain: It's not done yet.

Stomach: Will eating it now kill us?

Brain: It could make us sick.

Stomach: I don't see the problem. Could is not will.

Brain: Sigh. That's why I'm here.

Stomach: How will we know when it is done?

Brain: When the timer goes off.

Stomach: It's supposed to be on low and cook at 140 degrees, but it's bubbling, so doesn't that mean it's over 212 degrees and thus might be cooking faster and thus might already be done?

Brain: Wow. And here I thought you weren't paying attention when we did our earlier Internet research.

Stomach: What it if overheats and explodes and then we don't get to eat any of it because you have a cheap slow cooker and didn't listen to me?

Brain: Can you please shut up?

Stomach: Don't wanna.

Brain: Sigh.

Stomach: That sure smells good, doesn't it?  Time to eat it yet?

Brain: Sigh.

the sound of autumn in November

This is the sound of autumn in November

trees newly bare

leaves piling up on the ground

perfect slolam courses

for gusty winds to play in

before they all get bullied to dust 

by power that doesn't know its own strength

Today, right now, when I don't fall over for once

old PT ladies 

observe my balance improved

watch enviously

(Last?) warm day in November?

if the weather

gets any more

beautiful I

will have

to weep

we are determined to make this week better

when I got to work, there was
a poem on my keyboard next
to my wrist brace, and the poem
was deep and wise and magical
and the tree on it was where the
magic lived twisted ink branches
bereft of leaves that will live next
to the painted full moon waiting
for whatever happens next

to sleep, perchance to dream and stop swarming about half drunk on summer's dregs in autumn

short warm relapses

brief resurgence of insects

autumn cannot last

he asks if

This new brother of mine asks
tough questions, like whether I would want
the death of this family friend to be less
hard for me to deal with

because the truth is that in some ways yes
I would because I am very weak right now, but

mostly I puzzle because I don't understand why
it is so

hard.  Why this death that I still know
next to nothing about?  Why this man
who I interacted with for real maybe
4 times in my life? Is it because he was

younger than my father because his son
was my classmate because he was
someone I admired and wanted to be
happy and because the day he died

my new brother said something about
C.S. Lewis that I wanted to share with him
because it would have made him laugh?

Because it was so sudden and that
scares me because there is never
enough time to be with all the people
we love and admire because the fall

brought death and separation in, and
there is nothing I can do about that 

when I am always so very far away?

autumn's pirate bounty

no pirates in sight

gold is scattered everywhere

fall beauty all mine

remember when singing

I think as long as I can remember

when singing didn't hurt this much,

I will be okay.

winter always comes

light, mouse, deer, leaves, friend

too much death in autumn

winter comes too fast