April 2018 This is what you do, my pet, when the airplane of your love has gone up in smoke: You land it (maybe) in the best way that you can. You let it rest on the grounds of some open field in the middle of nowhere where all is unrecognizable, including the tremor in… Continue reading Now and then
Tag: comfort
Crape Myrtle
I tried to take a picture, But I couldn’t catch the light. And no matter how I aimed the lens, The photo wouldn’t come out right. The picture didn’t see the detail, That made me pause and think, And smile at how the petals looked like chiffon- Delicate and pink. The honey light slicing through… Continue reading Crape Myrtle
lake district
"You will find someone else to love you." That is what I say to myself when I feel my heart grating against the want of you. Despite the knowledge of what should be, and with the knowledge of what is, of what it was. I fall deeply into the lake of our past often. I… Continue reading lake district
Persephone rising
She said, you are in the long night now, girl. The sun is far, far away but dawn will break eventually. Hold tight to yourself and outlast the dark. I told her I was hardly holding on to anything, much less myself. She said to keep holding on anyway, to whatever I could find. She… Continue reading Persephone rising
a love poem
On loving you, I know no other way yet This is boring, I think, loving a person who isn't here. It would be more fun to be together, to be planning. Instead it is just me. So I love me instead of loving you. To give myself something to do in the meantime. Loving me… Continue reading a love poem
Red, Blue and Purple
“You know those days when you get the means reds?’ ‘Same as the blues?’ ‘No,’ she said slowly. ‘No, the blues are because you’re getting fat or maybe it’s been raining too long. You’re sad that’s all. The mean reds are horrible. You’re afraid, and you sweat like hell, but you don’t know what you’re… Continue reading Red, Blue and Purple
From the back porch:
Summer sounds like this: The cicadas calling back and forth from one group of trees to the other. The fountain recycling water, round and round every afternoon. The wind shushing in the trees way up high and then moving south towards the ground, tickling the tiny bunny as they nibble buttercups. Crickets warming up their… Continue reading From the back porch:
On things pertaining to writers block…
Much of this will not be remembered and that is a blessing. The singularity of this summer has a feeling with no name yet. Only looking backwards will I see what it truly was called, I think. And then I will name it. I do not know if all of our blessings need to be… Continue reading On things pertaining to writers block…
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