discontented me

rumbling around in
my disturbed
psyche -
discontent
like the rich buttery
clam sauce
that drenched the
linguini
i finished not
two hours
ago
the richness
of a friends smile
the warmest of blue sky
nights
the topics we
could savor...
decadence
that my unsettled
soul cannot
digest
i watch
as if from outside
the room
puzzling over
what
could be
wrong
and what it is
that could possibly
stop me
from being present
in this
truly fabulous
moment.
wondering and
wishing
that there were some
way
i could
take in
the beauty
of
now.

a roomie

when i didn’t hear you stir
this morning
at your regularly scheduled
hour
i found myself wondering
what
life would be like
if you suddenly weren’t
there
and what kind of
life insurance
policy
would cover what you do
and who you are to
me
i pictured myself
speaking
to a
bespectacled
insurance agent
watching him
scribble furiously
on his notepad
with a stubby yellow
pencil
while i listed
from where i was perched
in the plastic office chair
across from his desk,
the things i would
be lacking if you
left,
droning on
as if i were
going down a list
of groceries
or errands to
run on the way
home
and then caught myself
puzzling
over how to cover
the way you grin at me
at the end of a long day,
the quiet way you let me
be
when i am not sure how to
be present,
the little acts of kindness;
a load of laundry – unexpectedly
cleaned and laid on my bed,
a note with a hand-drawn little
flower in the corner
of it
perched against the faucet
of my bathroom sink,
a breakfast smoothie
halved with me.
the impromptu
taste tests
comparing brownies
or pickles
or sharp cheddar
cheese
from
kroger
to those from
tj's.
not to mention the times
you remind me of
the truth
about God, grace &
the gospel
like it’s something
so real
you have just finished
eating a meal of it
yourself
and you’ve got leftovers
to share.
it disturbed me so,
i dismissed the
insurance agent
who scurried off -
grateful to have
dodged the bullet
of trying to come up
with anything at all
that could possibly make up for
the loss
of
you.

morning

heartache
creates such a particlar
sensation
i step outside it for a moment
and
wonder
if this is
what it would feel like
to swallow
an uncomfortable
object made of lead
and to feel it
pulling your stomach to
some place
well beneath your
feet
or to breath in
a noxious fume
that burns and expands
past the boundaries
of your ribcage
once it hits the
bottom of your
lungs -
or to lay in bed while
through an IV
liquid weakness
is pumped
into your
bloodstream
making that roll over to
the side of your bed
this morning
one of the mightiest feats
you have ever
accomplished.
such an unbelievable
achievement,
that having performed it
you look up
half-expecting to see
a small cheering crowd
clustered in a
circle
just past your desk
waving little banners
in a frenzied rush
exclaiming
that they have
never seen
anything
quite this
amazing
before.

taking a break

poetry has to come from somewhere. sometimes that place becomes elusive - slips down through the cracks of a busy schedule and too many feelings & not enough time to figure them out. so writing this post is an official pause. i liked my earlier stuff better. the flood came and everything felt heavy for a while. not that sad poetry can't be good, but it takes skill greater than mine for it not to get campy. y'know? i'm taking a break from more than just poetry this week. restlessness, hopelessness, fear. it's been a wild ride, but i'm getting off for a while. went to a neighborhood group tonight where we talked about justification. a big long word that sounds so fierce and intimidating - but once you get to know it, is actually the sweetest most consoling and comforting truth you have ever heard. i am so close to grasping a tiny piece of it. just getting close is intense though. probably something akin to standing before Niagra Falls. you know that it is freaking powerful. it could take you down. and you kinda want it to....
this. is. officially. rambling. is there no safeguard on this blog? there should be a built in shield that prevents you from posting things after 11:00pm. you never know what you'll read in the morning. : ) maybe that's part of the fun. what the hay, i'm taking the risk...

one of those

it is so sweet

to have a

mandy

or a linda

in your life –

to glimpse

them loving a work

as if it were their

own

and to wonder

how it is

they do not

know:

they are poem

itself –

children of that great tribe

whose very way of

life

is the planting of

those seeds of

mercy

and things that stir the

soul within.

the writer - merely a wanderer,

meandering down rows

pulling off great handfuls

of rich, low growing

fruit

and dropping it into the basket

of written word,

that others too

may taste.

about a flood

my heart so heavy

and yet

too shallow, still…

with its bricks of rue

mortared with self.

such need for a deeper

grief

and true redemption.

come fill me with your perfect

sorrow

one that

does not despair

as it flys downward

into the very

depths

of

loss

with that kernel

of our future

Glory

grasped

in it’s

tiny

determined

fist.

waters

laughter bursts out in little ripples

through this warm clear

night

quickly

silenced

by the heaviness

of the

dark water

on our streets

in our homes

rising up to claim

illusions of

security,

rest

even life

from within our

midst

with weighted feet

we walk damp

pavement

our sorrow and our love

for this city

muddied and

overflowing

like the waters

from the cumberland

that rise,

and rise

again.