Pawn

Another day dawns
as we march in place
We are all but pawns
Losing a rat's race.

Time's Little Secret (written 3 years ago-it's now become pertinent)

Anticipation is a slowly filling balloon,
Minimal helium intake,
Rising, swelling ever so slowly.

What if this balloon never seemed to fill completely?
Watching, you pray for more.
Hoping, begging it to stretch just enough.

So, I sit patiently on the floor in the dark.
Fat tears line my lids as I wait.
Can I attain what I am seeking?

This balloon struggles, it seems, to stay depleted.
I coach it through, almost pleading; “fill, fill!”
But alas, months pass and it continues this unhurried process.

My hopes erode, a perfect castle of sand washed down by the sea.
What if it never fills? Should I wait, forever?
I fear I am being foolish.

The future holds all Time’s secrets.
I dance around the question nervously,
When do I give up?

Crusade

I sorted them by shape and size,
Even chose to alphabetize.
My process slow and systematic,
As I placed each item in the attic.

A gauzy film of dust amassed,
Over these memories of my past.

Mistakenly I let fall, my line of defense,
And the dust disappeared at my panicked expense.

I retreated at first, like the girl from before,
But the stinging of old was too sharp to ignore.

‘Guess the war ‘aint over’, I have to say,
And so I battle the demons of yesterday.

Hawk Song

The clever cleaver is mincing words while the tablecloth fabricates a tale, woven like Anantzi the Spider’s glittering web, so delicate it falls apart in our hands, As we all wash off the cold blood in the fountain where we lost our youth some years ago.

...So I, stop and catch my breath because this year, I’m going to be older, and these friends don’t seem to know it, So I look above me and realize that I’m, No longer an ant on a big red checkered tablecloth, I am a hawk circling above, ready to barrel down and watch the fear smeared across the faces of my prey as I make my move in this world that has never offered me so much as road-kill...

Today I stepped out of the darkness.
I've been hiding, with an ignorant smile across my face, for a year.

This time last year I was ready to jump into the sun, but instead I sank into shadow.

Time has been pushing with steel hands on my spine, urging, demanding me to move forward.
I've resisted with every tool, every atom, every seductive smile I could muster.
I won.
I successfully made no progress.

So now I build an arsenal.
I'll drill out all the old and construct a model of the self I want to be.

The Lioness has been sleeping.
I'm going to feed her all the dreams and wisdom I can gather.
Then I shall set her loose on the world.

Se reposer dans la paix

Cancer crawls through veins, in vicious barbarism.
It marks the wicked source, of an emotional schism.

So we dine and converse of anything eternal,
An autonomous king became paternal.


If his life was known for pacifism,
Why did death offer only cataclysm?

Maybe fate will have us meet once more,
In a different time and on a distant shore.


Dedicated to God Murphy

The Stars Don’t Go Out

The stars, well, they haven’t gone out,
Although most days I wish that they would.
They blaze through my lids like acid,
Imprinting Your face in my eyes.

Each shadow on the wall,
And every storefront reflection,
Takes Your loyal shape.
You’re always one step behind.

I awake alone and curse,
And pull at my hair as if it could remove the guilt,
Or the ache that’s resided in my throat,
Since the day I knew You were gone.

I smile and kiss the boys.
I wear a perfect mask,
To hide my absent gaze,
Although they wouldn’t care.

Unconscious

Unconscious, as we step onto one million minute fragments of historic
rock. The beach.
Unconscious, as we jaywalk through one million bustling bodies. Our community.
Unconscious, as we grab our lates and The Times we forget to give thanks.
Unconscious, as we virtually communicate, we've forgotten how to use
our given voice.
We stall and try to ignore the feeling that were losing our grip on
the fundamental elements of humanity. We rush even faster to work to
avoid running into that elderly neighbor who still writes letters by
hand, bakes and donates to charity. But its catching up to us, just
as the landfills begin to overflow and the ice-caps we should have
protected melt into our homes, we will be reminded. Even if its just
one person at a time, we shall overcome.

At Long Last

Your image haunts me.
I keep waking into memory.
I push away the vision,
So I must seal the division.

I will not free another tear,
Only in solitude will I persevere.
To reassemble my fractured heart,
I offer myself a brand new start.

I’ve held myself in chains for a year,
Your voice softly humming in my ear.
I close the alter to our past,
I move forward, at long last.

Fall 2008 Poem

A rugged wind grabs at my skirt,
My legs are now riddled with goosebumps.
The click-clack of my heels,
And the whisper of leaves,
On the cobblestones
Excite me.


The ceraceous moon
Hangs pregnant above me.
Pestering me.
Pushing me.
Forward.
Forward.
Forward.

I’ve been waiting.
For a change.
The seasons changed,
(again)
Before I could.