Charles Baxter once said the world could use more tenderness

I could go in stomping and snorting and pushing myself past my so-lowered limits again, but that doesn't work.  It didn't work last week.  It won't work this week.  This is a task that calls for delicacy, sensitivity, tender care of self, and concentrated attention, and I am not very good at those things, especially right now.  I remind myself that I love a challenge (in theory) and that I can't just keep galloping full-speed ahead as I have been because that didn't work, isn't working, won't likely ever work again.  Patient and tender attention to me and the now immediately around me: this is what I need.  Harder than self-destruction in small doses any day.

pleasantness and paranoia

In their records, the doctors
keep describing me as pleasant. 
I guess I'm glad.  I wonder
what they write when people
aren't pleasant?  Not that I'm being
paranoid.

a study in greens

Has anyone done a study
to find out if the greens
of spring are actually more
vibrant hues, a different set
of shades of jubilant greens,

or is it just that
compared to all
the browns and
greys, this sudden

explosion and surfeit of green
nearly hurts the eyes with its
present, verdant vibrancy?

another perfect day for rainbows

Today was a perfect day for rainbows,
But I didn't see a single one.

The Merry Month of May (Hiatus)

Sorry, I've been on a bit of a blog hiatus this month.  I was putting together a personal health record (PHR) by trying to pull together all the information from my various health care providers over the recent  (sometimes nightmarish) years.  How did I survive 2009?  Seriously.  It's been . . . challenging to say the least.  To all the folks who use one of these blogs to be sure I'm still alive (ha ha), sorry if May was a white-knuckled month for you.  In June, we shall hope to be back to our regularly scheduled blogram.

attack of pentameter (and other signs of spring)

the earth still breathes winter into the air
the sun exhales summer to meet it there
frogs shout lustily from their thawing ponds
and where these mingled breaths collide is spring

You can't spoil them at this age (4 weeks)

.
Because I held
the baby too much,
my shoulder is
sore from keeping him
on top of me (because
he is a flopper), and
my back and hip ache
from rocking him
(because he likes
to be held as you walk,
but I can't
hold him
safely
that way, so I
must become a
perpetual motion machine
as I sit, arms held up
with pillows).  I
have taken ibuprofin
several times, yet
still I ache
because I
could not
possibly
hold him
enough.
.

the moon that night

Wherever you are,
did you see the moon tonight?
Now spring may begin.

sharing

.

we take turns

rocking him

from one sleep 

to the next

as gently 

as we can

.

useful insomnia

Whoever said baby breathing
is a soothing, comforting sound
never held a 4-week-old still
twitchy and erratic and only rarely
breathing regularly, like a tiny,
slightly wheezy bellows felt
through the collarbone more than
heard, nor felt those sudden, startling
stiffenings that last for three seconds
of baby nightmare and then are gone,
replaced by even more labored
and erratic breathing, so you can't
tell if he's asleep because he's facing
away from you, so his daddy has
to check before he takes him away
to bed, and you can go back to yours.

spring in retrospect

Spring in the midwest
is a variable thing that can only be
determined in retrospect. 

We can back-date it to the day
after the last snowfall, wondering
with each new snow
if this one will

(finally) 

be the last.

in the balcony at the Christmas concert

.
the sharp
shadows cast
by emergency
lights above
the stairs
slice into
each step
and bury
all but
hints of
the beauty
of stained
glass windows
.

Found Poem - because it still doesn't feel like spring

I bought a book
of poetry this weekend
for myself,

and one
for [my daughter]
too.

Because it still isn't spring,
or at least
doesn't feel like it.

- LZC

above the road

.
Why does the moon seem
so much larger when it hangs
above the road?
.

why I love readings

.

feeling full and drunk

on literature again

good reading tonight

.

playing snow

.

snow falls

crawls up the

tree branches until

it's too much and they

roll and fall like campers

unfamiliar with the top

bunk and plop to the 

ground breathless

and laughing

.

why old people turn their cars so slowly

I think I am finding out why old people turn their cars so slowly.  If they're anything like me, and they are tearing at the seams, a hard or even moderately fast turn--especially over a jouncing entry point not on the level with the street--changes the vectors or shifts the inertia or some other science-y force-related thing, and it puts pressure on joints that can no longer bear pressure without complaint.  So if you are ever feeling irritated at elderly people taking their sweet time making that turn off the street at 2 miles per hour, have some sympathy for the irritation their joints feel even at that slow crawl.

a second tear is diagnosed

.
I did not expect this
gradual tearing like
some delicate
piece of lace or
late autumn leaves
or the wings of
butterflies and
moths
.

practice makes perfect

.

maybe life is practice letting go
because there's nothing
you can hold on to when you leave

.

March waltz

ice forming on puddles of meltwater as the shade
stretches out as the sun goes down

spiky points of crystal scabbing over
slowly

finally rest

.

Between the emergency 

sirens, the night is silent 

as snow falls with 

single-minded intent:

to cover everything 

and then finally 

rest.

.

this picture

I'm only sorry I cannot take
and share this picture

of tree top frosted
in snow and light

framed in the office window.

snow is magic

.

I will know I am too old 

the day snow stops 

seeming magical to me.

.

Winter Wound

The tree outside the corner of the building, trapped in an acute angle of ugly 80s architecture, was thriving.  I admired the close-up view of its limbs in all seasons, this most recent season spread with snow.  It must have been too close for some because one day I passed and saw the bright, raw wounds of hacked-off limbs now more distant than before and fully bereft of snow.  And I told myself I couldn't start crying in the hallway at work even if I felt like someone had just callously and with business-like efficiency taken a knife to a friend of mine.  It must have been scratching the glass or pounding on it right next to that lady in the corner's ear. It wasn't like they'd cut us on purpose, fully knowing.  They probably didn't even think of it, didn't see it that way, didn't know how much it would hurt us.  They didn't know, I told myself, wiped my eyes, sniffed, and started limping a little more slowly to my next meeting.

driving in a winter wonderland . . .

when it comes to driving
walking in a winter wonderland
is better

not quite a snowpocalypse

branches recoil
blobs of snow plop
I watch from the window
and turn on the Christmas lights
again

wind advisory

wind rattles the vents
temperature sinking fast
trees whip in the gusts

tonight I pray
for those outside tonight
may you find warmth

Isn't it too cold for snow?

the sky is that eerie dark
red-purple like the bruise on
a badly sprained ankle,

it is snowing that huge,
clumpy, plastic, synthetic,
fake-looking snow like
that diorama of Canada
I did with spray globbed
on and looking terrible

but sparkling like
diamonds chips
in the right light

winter wonderland

.
sky bruised purple gray
snow gilding trees and branches
winter wonderland
.

Trending Now

#10
chronic pain
happy holidays

When the truth hurts

Safety is a lie
we tell ourselves
to sleep at night
and to get out of
bed in the morning.
Like most self-
deceptions, it hurts us
when it shatters and
lets out the truth.

wind and snow

wind rises
snow tumbles off branch
silent snap

"The Lady of Shalott" by William Holman Hunt

"I am half sick of shadows," said
            The Lady of Shalott. 

-Alfred, Lord Tennyson

I am glad it is December,
that the awful November
picture on my calendar has
flipped, that December's picture
is one I have seen in person.

Few calendar prints can capture
a painting, so while I am glad
the November goats are gone, I long
for the real thing whole
and complete and beautiful.

But this is a lie because
I love this smaller test
painting by the master's
own hand since he was
mostly blind by then and
couldn't paint the full
canvas himself.

I prefer this panel
because I remember
how the unraveling
threads in it sliced
through the picture, so
sharp the air between us
was nearly bleeding.

January thaw

the wind

sweeps leaves

into neat piles

in corners

Winter Walking Wisdom

1
At times when there is
no way around the shadows
walk through them quickly

2
When there is no way
around shadows in your path
walk through them boldly

Minnesota Welcomes Me Back

High of 8 degrees.  Well played, Minnesota.

the shadow of the dance

.

the wind always dances

autumn just helps us

see the shadow of the dance

.

The Japanese Garden in Winter

.
outside fence geese honk
grey-blue lake and sky shiver
fake swan smiles alone
.

ricochet

Dizzy from the autumnal "oil change"
in my sinuses and exhausted from days
of added side-effect insomnia, I
ricochet around my small apartment
making bruises I will forget how I got
when I (re)discover them tomorrow.

how to change a mind

I have decided to try
to see the alarms as the bell
that signals recess, freedom
from my nightly confinement.
I hope this is a wise change
that will help me get out of
bed tomorrow morning

allergies + insomnia

so tired I'm dizzy
sitting down, scratchy throat
even PancakeSheep is limp

Jeremiah 38-39

This is what
I do not understand
about us: why,

when both paths
are laid out
so clearly,

do we still choose
the wrong path
again?

while Orion sleeps

.

one-eyed cat moon

squints on the horizon

stalking the stars

.

Detox Day 6 Humor

I'm doing a 10 day detox plan that my doctor recommended, and this is day 6.  I'm not really hungry because I'm eating around 1500 calories a day (mostly in apples and pears and related juice along with the "medical food" for days 5-7).  I'm not hungry, and I love apples and pears, but I keep finding myself wanting certain foods.  And I found myself laughing at this fun bit from a recent post on the blog of an author I like.

Because I swear to God the entire week has gone like this:

Me (sitting down to keyboard): Okay! Time to write something interesting and amusing.

Brain: SHUT UP AND FEED ME.

Me: I totally just fed you fifteen minutes ago. We had a fruit snack.

Brain: FRUIT SNACK NOT REAL FOOD. IT’S HUMILIATED GELATIN.

Me: Look, Brain, I have work to do.

Brain: NO FOOD NO BRAIN.

- John Scalzi

 Humiliated gelatin.  Heehee.  I could really go for some pudding . . .

folk wisdom fail

Starve a fever.  Don't exercise
with a fever.  This is what they
say.  But what if you don't know
if the fever is a side effect of the
steroid or related to the cold/flu
you're coming down with now
that you can't get any sleep at all?

side effects math

side effects math says
insomnia + med-insomnia
= insomnia squared

The Day of the Layoff (3)

A man going the wrong way in the parking ramp almost hits me, and I snarl in my head about how much it would suck to get hit by some jerk going the wrong way and then be late to find out if I lose my job.  And then I remind myself again that doing the right thing doesn't magically guarantee you safety and happiness.  I should know this by now.  (I should know this BY NOW.)  So why does every reminder that I live in a fallen world feel like a kick in the heart?

the layoff

The rain falls
on the just and
the unjust.

Selah.

on the morning of the layoff

on the way to work
a heron launches itself
past my windshield

in this morning darkness
I can't tell if it's blue or grey
and it doesn't matter

early October

Some of the falling leaves are slightly soft and supple to the touch.  They hardly crunch at all, still mostly alive.  Perhaps they choose to die young and make a prettier corpse?  I don't understand.  They'll all end up as dust in the wind anyway, so why not hang on 'til there's no life left?

Ibuprofen/weakness

Every time I reach

for the bottle I despise

myself a little.

the doctor told me I needed to wear sandals indoors

At first, all I could see was the floral pattern.  Beloved of all the old ladies at the orthopedic shoe store, it seemed unbearably ugly to me.  But it was the only clearance pair that fit without irritating my foot crush injury.  Besides, I was only going to wear them inside, so the hideous flowers wouldn't be viewed in public.

In the darkness of my home, the flowers were invisible, and I started seeing the shape.  They have dark, unusual lines that are solid yet graceful, despite the size of my feet.  The shoes are named after butterflies, but they don't look like butterflies. They also are not as ugly as I thought they were.

right brain, left brain

I am at an awkward part of the pain spiral.  My left arm started going numb, so I shifted to carrying the heavier things on the right shoulder, but then that old subluxing injury started to flare up with intent.  Then I have to use the left arm, but then it starts to warm me that this is treatment up with which it will not put, and I am impaled on the horns of a dilemma.  I think I just need to learn telekinesis, so I can use my mind to lift things.  As long as I make sure to evenly use both the right and the left brain, I'm sure it will all work out.

it took me two days to notice

so tired that
I forgot to cut one
fingernail

quotes out of context

from Jeremiah 30:12-13 to OWCP
 
"Your wound is incurable,
And your injury is serious.
"There is no one to plead your cause;
No healing for your sore,
No recovery for you."

Yep.  My sense of melodrama is still doing just fine though, thanks for asking.  Reading Jeremiah makes me lean toward drama.  Being a prophet was never precisely easy, but wow, did he have a crappy time of it . . .

that day in August

yesterday
was a perfect day
for rainbows

Lies my fortune cookies told me

You are strong
and sensitive.
                                                    (possibly in a parallel universe)

You believe in
the fundamental goodness
of people.
                                                    (only in dreams, fortune cookie)

Others recognize
your sweet nature.
                                                    (when they see it hiding at its
                                                     vacation home in Switzerland)
You have an excellent
capacity for making people feel
at home.
                                                    (if said people normally make
                                                     their homes alone in
                                                     claustrophobia-inducing,
                                                     book-lined caves, not that I
                                                     could possibly judge them
                                                     for that)

not really one of my better days, but the pain is having a ball

Today it has felt as if some small creature with dull but strong teeth has been hanging from and gnawing on part of my left arm.

I am sleeping even less than average, and the night was very long when I watched it nearly all the way through until the light returned.

My right hip is throbbing like some caged creature needs to escape from it, and sitting up for hours at a time is more of a challenge than it should be for someone my age.

A tiny, invisible, serrated worm pokes at my right wrist and sometimes wraps itself around and goes into spasms--probably of joy and affection.  If so, I'm glad someone is having a good time here.  I just wish it were me.

Nothing gold really goes away

to Robert Frost

Nature's last green is gold
a thousand shades of red
orange purple and brown
ground up finely by wind
covered and hidden just
while winter wins until
Nature's first green comes back.
Nothing gold really goes away.

another split lip

when it is this dry

I need to remember not

to smile suddenly

Well, that's a problem, fortune cookie

Listen carefully.
An upcoming important
message may be subtle.

another reason I love autumn

Maybe a reason I love autumn
is because the world around me
starts breaking down, falling,

dragging, breaking apart
before winter comes to
finish the job,  and I

have been breaking
down since I

was 10.

the first maple tree

The first maple tree has ignited
soon the others will bow
to peer pressure and immolate
themselves and cover the sidewalks
in confetti that will grind itself
 away in
the wind
into ashes
and dust
and winter
will come to hide it all away.

the times I am most angry at OWCP are like this

• I'm trying to sing Brahms German Requiem, and my arm hurts insistently and keeps distracting me.  It hurts even worse 30 pages in from the simple act of holding the music and turning each page.  
• I want to help my friend who just had twins get some alone time with her husband, but I can't because holding even tiny babies and changing diapers will cause me agony later, so all I can do is come and help hold the babies while they are still small and sing to them since they don't mind that it is so hard for me to actually learn an entire lullaby anymore.  
• I have a great idea, and the muse is demanding that I sit and write it down right now before it gets bored and goes away, but I can't because my arm hurts, and things are busy at work, and I can't afford to irritate my arm any more, or I won't be able to function at work, and I have to function at work because I need to keep this job, so I can have insurance and because it's hard to find jobs that I am capable of doing anymore.  And so I don't write, and that hurts, too.

spring haiku

cherry trees are like
family you only get
to see once a year

the prayer

Dear God, please
be with my sister
wrap her in Your arms
let her feel Your love for her

oh God please don't let her lose another baby oh please oh please oh please oh please oh please oh please oh please oh please oh please

contrary haiku

when the forecast says
0% chance of rain
I want nothing more

commiseration

the tree in the corner
is rusting away

not turning fall colors
just getting brown-splotched and
ragged around the edges

when I pass it

I sigh in commiseration

Today's beauty

Today's beauty is brought to you
by the blue heron
with the impossible wingspan
that took off from my side
of the channel and cleared
the tree trunk blocking the waterway
in only three wing beats.

my battery is drained

Today's exhaustion is brought to you by the car battery.  Last summer when it kept dying, I took it in, and they said there was nothing wrong with the battery or the alternator.  And then it behaved itself.  Until a couple of weeks ago.  And then today.  When it ceased working 3 times.  Good thing I didn't have to be anywhere until 3.  Since I couldn't get there until 4 . . .  And my groceries are probably spoiled now (though I didn't open them just in case they're okay).  But at least I could get a loaner car today instead of having to get the dumb thing jumped two more times today and then at 6:30 tomorrow morning.

Dear Hyundai,

Your customer service people are quite nice.  Your emergency roadside support people are also quite nice.  My experience with your cars is, well, not.

• Tires that die after less than 4 years (my last car's tires were still going strong at 6+ years).  
• A battery that dies every summer.  
• Maintenance costs I was told would be covered by the warranty that aren't.

I don't think I'll be a repeat customer.  Raaaaaaaaarrrr.

Signed,
Me

Siiiiiighhhhhhh.

an encouragement to kids going back to school

Your dreams are not guaranteed to come true.  You do not have unlimited potential and all that crap.  You have limited time and potential.  But unless you have dreams and pursue them, you will never know if you can make them come true.  So it's better to have dreams and try hard to make them come true than to deny yourself and automatically fail by eliminating even the chance of success.  Probably.  : )

The trouble with nature

So.  Bugs.  Summer.  I understand that the poor things don't get to move much for about half of the year, so I understand why they would just want to crawl all over the place when they can, but why do they like crawling all over me so much? 

When I can, I bike to a park with my blanket, notebook, and books.  I spread out the blanket and plop myself down and immediately become the Most Engrossing Thing Ever to the insects and arachnids in the area.  These guys love me.  They can't get enough of me.  It's kind of crazymaking.

I imagine this is what would happen if I went to a cat show.  I am very allergic to cats, and they just love me!  I don't make eye contact and, a cat-lover explained that I am mysterious and interesting to them. 

Perhaps I need to practice making eye contact with insects and arachnids.  Do I have to make contact with all their eyes?  That could be . . . difficult. 

I just want to enjoy nature, listen to the wind and the birds, read my book, be a sun camel, try not to smell the nearly stagnant river water, avoid getting hit in the head by those kids and their soccer ball, and relax.  I want to commune with nature, dagnabbit! 

Unfortunately, nature feels the same way.  And so we commune: nature walking all over me, me swatting nature or brushing it off without killing it.  It is not exactly relaxing, but there is definitely communing.  Sigh . . . 

Sometimes, when the book is really good, I don't even notice.

I can still smell it

I wonder if the smell of the lilacs still hangs in that yard or if it's only the memory so strong that makes me think it's still there so long after all the flowers bloomed and died.

Why?

Because today is
forty-six seconds shorter
than yesterday was.

eloquent roadkill

roadkill indicates
today is not a good day
to be a turtle

Is this even legal (haiku)

Thirty days have passed.
When will they (ever) finally
run out of fireworks?

young and grey

I am moving much less
like a woman of 60
these days (except for
the left arm, hip, and
lower back), but the silver
is taking over my hair
that much faster.  An 

odd tradeoff, but not 

unwelcome, I suppose.

.

the impossible dream

to OWCP with bitterness

I wake up
in the morning,
and I feel rested. 

I get up
and go
about my day,

and I
am not
in pain.

another chiropractic haiku

What do you say when
your chiropractor asks
if you do stand-up?

.

the view today

one set of windows
shows a sky mostly cloudy

while another shows sun
and blue sky I guess

today I get to choose

loving the darkness

.
I don't want to turn
on the lights because 
it will be harder
to see the rain
.

dead lilacs

The thing about lilacs
is that after they're dead
they still smell like heaven
for some time

another about butterflies

.
butterflies explode
like tiny silent land mines
on the bike trail

.

What I wanted to do that day

What I want to do is huddle on the couch watching the wind whip through the cottonwoods listening to the sound of the leaves and the rain drizzling down, just existing, not trying to distract myself from the pain or discomfort or the fever, not trying to accomplish anything, letting my thoughts drift instead of constantly yanking them back on course of necessity.  I want to watch the clouds move past in ragged layers in the sky and see if the sun will ever come out today.

Give me a warning, I beg you

Is it wrong of me to wish
you hadn't posted the picture
of your dead baby dressed
like a doll in the gift another
friend made for you?

Is it weak of me to wish I hadn't
seen that deformed face and
the blue splotchy body because
he never quite managed to take
his first (and last) breath?

at least the license plate is laughing

.

sometimes what
you need to
make it through
is to follow
a car with the
license plate
TEE HEE
to work

.

After the latest hearing

Is it good
I didn't cry?

A sign of maturity
and self-possession

or just a sign of
giving up?

when the trees are greener

the way the trees are greener
in a spring storm with rain but no wind
water soaking the trunks and making
then darker like the lead-grey sky
making the world glow
a bright and luminous green

What you call beautiful

What you call beautiful

How could such
perfect feet so
perfectly formed

be dead before
you took a breath?
What does it feel like to dress

your dead baby for a picture
to remember it by, blue and hideously
deformed and never quite alive

and what am I supposed to do
and to feel as I look at this child
you call beautiful?

On a windless day

When you look
at the heart of a cloud
it looks big and solid
and you can't see any
movement but if
you look at the edges
for long enough
I promise
there is movement.

A beautiful problem

On the walk back
through the parking
lots, I felt like I was

constantly
                 dodging

butterflies
apparently drunk
on sunlight, humidity, and heat.

mostly flat

like a crumpled piece of paper
left under the bed for years
found and straightened and smoothed
but curling up again along all its
many creases eventually
with the help of flat, heavy objects,
it may be persuaded to lie mostly flat
but the creases will always show

The mistake I made yesterday

The mistake I made
was to wave goodbye to a
friend with my left hand.

When the crooked become straight

I stumble more off-balance,
off-kilter because I have
been forced on-kilter for the first
time in years.  Because I've been
straightened, I feel more crooked
and uncomfortable like an amnesiac
trying to live a life I don't remember
as my own.

how should I pray

Now that

• you are freed from this burden you never asked for,
• you are bereft of the doomed life within you,
• I can't pray for a miracle anymore,

how should I pray for you?

happy birthday, dead baby

.
no more chances
for a miracle

just separation

grief 

and so much pain

.

the waiting (10)

It's hard
for me to wait
for the birth
and death
announcement;

I cannot
imagine how
hard it is
for you.

Soon
the waiting
will end.

Blooming hard

.
hard to drive inside
the lines with trees exploding

like silent fireworks

.

The end is nigh

The due date is near.  It's no longer mother's day but May 16th.  Three more days +14 before they induce.  I cannot imagine what it must be like.

Recently, my friend said, "He's definitely running out of space in there, so we'll see how long he stays."  I wanted to just break down.  What a tension she must be wrestling with: The clash of wanting every minute with this life, no matter how doomed, and the desire to be delivered (a word that never seemed more appropriate).  The day of his birth will be the day of his death, so she wants as much time with him as she can get.  But the discomfort grows daily, the burden of bringing a death into the world, as Cordelia said in Barrayar (only more literally in this case). 

The pain won't end, though, with the birth-and-death.  And the mourning won't begin at that moment.  It began long ago when they heard the truth about their baby.  Oh, friends, I weep for you, but there's nothing I can really do to easy your suffering.

There are kids outside riding bikes in the rain, and my heart breaks again along the same fault lines.  Oh, God.

as long as you believe

chiropractor visit two resulted in
pain and less sleep as my body tried
to relax and curl up in its usual ways

and failed most miserably because bones
and joints were properly aligned for the first time

in years, but only once did I wake
in actual terrifying minor agony; after that,
I was on my back all night, twitching

or gasping myself awake when I did
fall asleep (I was recently tested
and found not to have the twitchy leg

thing or sleep apnea).  Pain today
like bands of fire and joints wrapped
in flaming compresses, headaches on

and off and on.  Still I choose to believe
this is pain like the pain of the caterpillar
turning to goop, so it can become

a butterfly, as Miles once said
--maybe in the Warrior's Apprentice, probably
when he was hustling a crowd of unbelievers--

or as I more practically phrased it
to the chiropractor in my head,

"As long as you believe
this will lead to healing,
I will believe in you."