26 November 2015

24 November 2015

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?

21 November 2015

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?

20 November 2015

Tomorrow's pledge

I will ignore should
and do what needs to be done 
hibernation, rest

19 November 2015

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.
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.

16 November 2015


When did this happen?
Trees stripped so bare already
November half gone

15 November 2015

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

13 November 2015

the shame of late autumn skies

Sky blushes deep pink,
ashamed of bare branches, 
but spring will come again.

12 November 2015

November gales

On the sides of homes,
gales of November slap rain: 
last wrath of autumn?

11 November 2015

Autumn means

The cuddliest
box elder bug in the world 
just wants to snuggle.

10 November 2015

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.

09 November 2015

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.

08 November 2015

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

04 November 2015

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

03 November 2015

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

02 November 2015

remember when singing

I think as long as I can remember
when singing didn't hurt this much,
I will be okay.

01 November 2015

winter always comes

light, mouse, deer, leaves, friend
too much death in autumn
winter comes too fast