Shuffling on the dry balls of your padded paws.
Impermanence, your affliction.
Hard exacting breaths from decades of sauntering.
Protesting each movement to fling earth’s weight from your mind.
The weight must land elsewhere.
No more burning up the open plains.
Alive with dullness.
You, a bitter lioness.
Working bones unasked for fractional effort.
Heart wanting recompense from both moon and sun.
Roaring from miles away at injustices served.
Laying waste to shared land.
Sour notes break into others’ dreams.
The bitter lioness will disappear.
Upon the shrinking sands, an old lion slaughters its cubs.
And all other reminders of its imminent death.
what is motherhood if not by your side
watching you my love
what is pure in my life holding by a wisp within your deconstructing body
sweet child how I need to scream inside the ocean
smack the gods
embrace the spirits
where you won’t hear my pain
these arms and legs of mine so powerful
if I could give them and live to hold you still,
carry you as I have done across these years
never with regret
all that I am
wrapped around your life
such beauty in your speaking eyes, your soul-plumped mouth
how you’ve grown these past seasons
metal-bar suns and rubber-tube moons following along your flesh
you and I have traveled so much longer than they believed possible
you grow a bit tired
your little body weary from the outside
fatigue settling some on the inside where my care holds you together
but still fierce in your heart
in your eyes of earth
you are my rock
you are my joy
not in any time
in any space
of any moment
will I ever grow tired
of your heart living inside mine
to my cousin, Marie for her beautiful daughter, Lily xo
sitting at my kitchen table–
a flat world where things sometimes roll off
‘thoughts’ cram my vapid head
never to disappoint, there she is my gooey, ‘Annie Oakley’
the incessant ‘creative’ cowgirl who rides my bulging brain every morning
trying her ‘Wild West’ best to lasso bucking words
working up quite a sweat she is, as I so often do trying to be ‘clever’
I’ve no chance of corralling these wild beasts
wax fences are nonexistent in my vacant mind
the most ‘insightful’ prose gallop directly out my right ear
wax that should be in my empty head is on the kitchen table–
a flat world where things sometimes roll off
here a tiny flame–cruelly trapped in a jar–flickers –
like my tongue used to so many years ago
watching the singular flame burn, I imagine it raging
but the cold fireplace is empty like my head
outside the kitchen sliders, a tiny tufted .6 ounce titmouse
enjoys the seed I loaded in the feeder
others will be along
oh yes, here they come
the heavy snow is cascading down and these frail birds are stronger
than my slumbering two hundred and fifty-five pound son at the moment
when I was little
my mom and dad served as bookends at our rectangular kitchen table
their six children, incomplete chapters
now my parents have a round table too, with obligatory leaves for visitors
no more sharp corners for any of us
oh, a beautiful red-headed woodpecker has joined the snow-ladened feast
luckily for him his long chiseled beak is as sharp as it is
otherwise, he couldn’t reach the seed
life doesn’t have to dull everything down
it is glorious to have a point sometimes
they say Fridays are good for fornicating but not for posting on Social Media
I cannot care
the words pressing against my brain are going to burst my fucking capillaries
if I don’t shoot them out my itchy trigger fingers I’m doomed
torment is attempting to snake up my spine though I adore sidling reptiles
ever since I held that gorgeous velvet albino anaconda in fourth grade
now snakes are endangered too
if it blindsides me in a gallant rush of crimson blood, I’m ready for doomed
no overwhelming fear here
when you have kids you imagine leaping in front of the gun
I’m okay with this outcome, this is life
calm collective of a natural or unnatural end
too many yanking the ripcord at both ends
I’ve know for quite some time about dying
when you live with an elderly person, it makes the idea of un-being easier
my heart has taken on a personality all its own
a tragic character in some romantic play
maybe a comedy
she fades to black, scene four
I’m not depressed
not at all
rather realistic and ready
are we climate warming, are we going Armageddon-style
shit, I guess it’s going to be hot either way
why can’t it be water
I so love swimming
there is nothing like claiming peace underwater
I vote for clean water if still available
don’t want to drown in dirty icecap overflow