19 June 2017

my epitaph shall be

No matter how I die
my epitaph shall be

Gone ahead to a place
where I can fin'ly hear
all the stories and learn
all the songs and the names
of all the things.  I pray
I'll see you there (not soon : ).

22 May 2017

tomorrow

Tomorrow I would show you
two kinds of purple flowers
that have bloomed since we last walked
that spring-decked path together.

06 May 2017

Somewhere lilacs

Will the baby live?
Will depressed loved ones pull up?
Somewhere, lilacs bloom.

04 April 2017

La La Land

How
do you go
to the dollar theater
like you planned
to see La La
Land
after you find out she
is in the hospital
for suicidal
thoughts?
You
don't. Instead,
you stay late at work
until you fix something
and then you go home
and cry and pray and
write because they
are the same
tonight.

22 March 2017

spring and other things that spring eternal

The plants I thought I killed
at least three times once by
drowning once by freezing and

once by thawing too early may
have survived my ineptitude as
there are three sprouts shooting

up from the darkness of the soil
in the pot in my garage all winter
like hope springing eternal until

you find out it's three weeds but
you don't care because everything
is finally coming alive once again.

21 March 2017

fruit we deny ourselves

How
did I ever
live for years
without tasting
a single
berry?

What
was I
punishing
myself
for?

05 March 2017

dream books

when I took the medication to sleep,
I think I dreamed of a book series
never written yet outside my dreams,
and I awoke wanting desperately
to re-read it in the waking world

18 February 2017

gutter glaciers retreating

Watched torrents
of meltwater reduce
the gutter glaciers
of winter and sat
in the sun without
my coat while a fly
staggered around
on my sleeve, which
was also unsteady
because I think we
were both a little
blissfully baffled and
drunk on spring
in February.

14 January 2017

Recovery

waiting for the day
when we can hug, and you walk
beside me again

11 January 2017

prayers

Until you can see
again, I'll write poems
you can't read that
are really prayers because
even though you don't
believe anymore,
I still do.

06 January 2017

to the wounded one

How are you doing,
wounded Brother Wolf?
Praying you have found
a cave to rest in
curled up surrounded
by warmth and peace of
some sort while you heal.