Future: A Sonnet

There are moments in this life when you cant fake it.  There’s no surviving on wit. You must come legit.  Legit you must come with the masochist to whom you cater.  You cannot be less, only greater. There’s only now. There is no later.

So put on your waders. Let us wade in the future since the present is plagued. Lets break the chains. Lets look forward to a new day. Delicious ambiguity, let the possibile play.  


An Insider’s Guide on How to be Sick

I did not write this, but needed to share it.

“Never say the words ‘this is not my life’

This pain that wakes you screaming in the muzzle of the night

That woke your lover, chased into another room

into another life

This fevered fainting

This trembling chest

This panic like a cave of bats

This nurse drawing blood wearing doubled gloves

This insurance doesn’t cover that

This hurried paycheck of doctor after doctor after doctor

This stethoscope that never hears your heart

This hospital bed

This florescent dark

This save your prescription with side effects worse than the disease

This please let me have one month where I read more poems than warning labels

This not knowing what the test will say

This pray pray pray

This airplane’s medical emergency landing

Shame when you can’t walk

Shame when you’re home alone sobbing on another friday night

Say ‘This is my life

This is my precious life

This is how badly I want to live’

Say Sometimes you have to keep pulling yourself up by the whip

Take punch after punch to the face forward

To the head up

And still uncurl the fist of your grief like a warm blanket on the cool earth of your faith

Say every waiting room is the clime where you will finally take shape to fit into the keyhole of your own gritty heart

To open mercy

To open your siren throat

Say every fever is a love note to remind you that there better things to be than cool

Fuck cool

Fuck every pair of skinny jeans

From the month your muscles atrophied to a size two

Say fuck you to anyone who asks you if you eat enough

Say how do you not know that is so fucking rude

Remember you never have an obligation to fight the hurricane in your chest

Especially on a day when another healthy person suggests ‘you would feel so much better if you would just focus your breath into a Buddha beam of light

Like that blind is going to miraculously dissolve the knife that’s been churning in your kidneys for the last six fucking months

Say Sunshine, please go back to your job at the aroma therapy aisle at Whole Foods and leave me alone

I know how to help my body

God does not expect me to use my inside voice

God knows how goddamn hard I am working to become a smooth stone

So I can skip on my back across this red red sea

So I can trust deep in my screaming bones

Everything is a lesson

Lesson #1 through infinity

You will never have a greater opportunity to learn to love your enemy than when your enemy is your own red blood

Truce is a word made of velvet

Wear it everywhere you go

Bandage the window where you screamed at the mountain for forgetting your footsteps

Trust that mountain is climbing you

Especially on the days you inevitably want to avalanche everyone who loves you

When you can’t walk from the bed to the bathroom without clenching at the walls

When you can’t imagine you can fall to pieces in another’s sturdy arms and still be seen as whole

Remember, the universe only became the universe when it shattered into dust

And that shattering is the one thing you can always trust enough to tell you

the truth is so quiet

you may never have heard it without a stethoscope pressed to your chest

That is to say in the house of your compassion its possible illness will be the landline

And its how you will begin to hear the world clear as a pin dropping

The downpour of its eyes

The long quarter of its broken throat

On my most broken days

when my faith is a willow and the pain has nothing but an ax to give

The only thing I want more than to die

is to live

Is to live to hear my neighbor play his music obnoxiously loud

To get cut off in traffic fifty more times

To get broken up with while standing in line at the DMV

To have another doctor drive another needle into my skin for the hundredth time

So I can say, for the hundredth time, that needle is the needle on a record player, Doctor, everything and I mean everything can learn how to sing”

~Author Unknown

Fingers: A Prose Poem

Fingers trace everyplace
and into the base of his back, Encouraging the pace,
of his secret being buried in my skin, That’s the ace … in the hole.
Fingers trace down my vase.
And I brace.
As he reaches the chas, it’s a race.
We are breathless, trying to circumnavigate,
the space … the time.
We both take what’s ours,
while giving grace,
with fingers laced,
nothing gone to waste.

Let me be my own heroine: A Ballad

Because I’ve had my share of let downs and a promise will never do

Let me be my own heroine.

Power is never given and I’ve paid my dues

Let me be my own heroine.

Sometimes things don’t come full circle, but they will do

Let me be my own heroine.

If I’m trying to make it work and seem a little blue

Let me be my own heroine.

When every direction is bullshit and all I do is rue

Let me be my own heroine

When I’m in a whole different place and it all seems so askew

Let me be my own heroine.

When my demons come out to play and throw shadows at you

Let me be my own heroine.

My words may get in the way and I’ll speak riddles, construed

Let me be my own heroine.

If I set myself ablaze and you’re watching while I do

Let me be my own heroine.

Even when I’m sick, even when I’m brusied

Let me be my own heroine.

Chronic resillence is what I do

Let me be my own heroine.

I will make mistakes but, find purpose when I do

Let me be my own heroine.

Don’t spit your pity at me when just your ear will do

Let me be my own heroine.

When I’m ready, I will share it with you

Let me be my own heroine.

It’s a tall order, only filled by a few

Let me be my own heroine.

People will hate you, people will love you

Let me be my own heroine.

Just let people do what they do

Let me be my own heroine.

Make no mistake, I appreciate you

Let me be my own heroine.

Lets just be very clear about the expectations due

Let me be my own heroine.

have an obligation to speak my truth

Let me be my own heroine.

I can make my own way, I always do

Let me be my own heroine.

Just love me unconditionally and be a soft place to fall when I do

But, let me be my own heroine.

You Need Help

Just love this. Very relate-able for me.

You see there is this guy from my past (dont we all have, at least, one) who emerged in my present a few months ago.

I relate to this because initially what brought him back about was photos that I found. As I looked upon him in the pictures I thought, “What happened there? He’s a nice guy.”

I should also mention that there was a distance forming between my husband and I at this same point and I, not being able to leave well enough alone, reached out to him.

At first, the nostalgia and attention were intoxicating. But it was fleeting fast. I am reminded, as our conversations continue, exactly why I moved on.

This man is not the one in my pictures or who lives in my memories. He needs help and I am not the one.

Who’s the person in your past that allows you to relate to this?

Through the fog: An Elegy

Lightning strikes
The drug seeps in my veins
Teardrop on a fire
That smolders the pain.
Watch as I descend
into an abyss of fog
My defenses down
I begin to shadowbox the devil’s dog.
That bitch always rears her ugly head
to let me know
How weak I am and out of control
Just as fate’s hand is finally shown.
I’m lost for words
It’s too much for one soul to bear
I search for anyone or anything
That might still be out there.
I need that healing fountain
To overflow
To soak my feet
And through the fog, begin to glow
The light of hope
Or at least respite,
For some salvation
I am desperate.
I settle in
In this fog
And pray for endurance
To continue this jog.
Through the diagnosis
Prognosis and wait
It matters not how strait the gate
I will be master of my own fate.


Trust: An Acrostic

Trust they say,
Is giving someone the ability to hurt you while not worrying they’ll play,
With the vulnerability,
Leaving yourself open that way.
I’d like to say I have this mastered,
But sometimes I get it ass backwards.
I wait for you to earn it,
Making sure I am not led astray.

Water: A poem

There is no water to be found,
It frosts the Earth all around.

My body rejecting the frozen tundra,
How much longer‘ is all I can wonder.

Im chained and bound inside this house,
Where is the sun? Why wont it arouse?

And so I have become a griever,
With thirst unquenched and cabin fever.

Too much potential to mentally deflagrate is becoming far too great.

There is no water to be found,
It frosts the Earth all around.