On moving across town – 4/15/19

I haven’t written in a while.
My hands almost forgot what to do.
The busy things have gobbled up,
my time and strength again.

I have now settled
into a new home after five years dwelt
in a little room with white walls,
to a new room, grander.

I have stayed within the city limits,
though I changed my zip.
From one University’s lawn to another,
Don’t worry, I won’t lose my crosstown allegiances.

Truth be told, I wasn’t sure
how my mind would rest a few boroughs away.
I was a skeptic, muttering un-niceties
Under my breath while I moved

boxes twice my girth (a hard thing to imagine)
up and down, up and down staircase steps,
with no end in sight it seemed.
I swear when I get rich,

I’m going to sit in a beach chair
pointing to young, burly gentlemen
that my shit should go a little to the left.
Cocktail in my hand, cigarette in the other.

My body aches from packing my things
into cars and pickup trucks,
I wouldn’t (Well, I Would)
wish it on my seventh grade english teacher

(otherwise known as my worst enemies).
We’ll see what this move does to my psyche,
I’m still not where I’d like to be, but a change of place
could welcome some unforeseen magic.

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What heaven’s customer service angels sound like

I’m quite sorry ma’am, but there’s been a mistake in how much broken you were handed. It makes sense now, doesn’t it? Yes, yes too much broken, I understand completely.

It’s an egregious error, I agree. What’s that, dear? No, I’m afraid we can’t start the whole thing over from the beginning.

Yes, I agree that does sound rather nice. But I’m afraid the wheels are already in motion. Yes, yes we can’t rightly stop the ride now, it would be too jarring for the rest of the customers.

I know, my dear, it is very unfair. We cannot begin to explain how sorry we are for the mistake; truly. That amount of broken is usually reserved for our most surly customers.

Yes, I can call down to the main desk and see if any refund is in order. Why, I’m sure we can offer a complimentary fruit basket, wouldn’t that be nice?

Oh, I see, nice only goes so far this time round. Well … sure … I’ll see what my superior can do, but I must remind you how busy he is this time of year.

I know my dear, but please bare with us, we’ll have this turned right side up in no time. Forty years is too much time passed? Why yes, my thoughts exactly.

We’ll put our best men on this job. Nothing a few days in the sun can’t fix, am I right? Thank you again for staying with us. We appreciate your business.

Depth Charges

A submarine sinks down to the bottom of the darkest depth, but it is not sunk.

It will overcome the trench, bringing with it, articles from the bottom that we would like to examine further.

Articles from the darkest place, a place that no light has ever touched.

Be like the submarine.

Go to the dark place, all the while protected from the intense pressure.

But also, be like the submarine, do not be overcome by the dark and return to the surface with perspective.

Trazodone Kids

Go to sleep
Go to sleep
Little trazodone kids

Your dreams are calling
Whispering soft stuff
About a nice, quiet end

To self harm scars –
Replacing that bad
With cloudlike good

Go to sleep
Go to sleep
Little medicated ones

There is a day coming
When monsters like depression
Are slayed by a great warrior

One who is cloaked in light
And brings the sun
Into each new dawn

Go to sleep

Full stop

2009-12-21 18.05.41

It hasn’t gotten as cold as I remember.
This time years ago, I was wearing a
double-lined, rust-colored coat from
the Duluth catalogue; matching boots
to boot.

I prefer a mild winter, with enough
cold to contemplate words like “alone”
and “silence.” If we are in the habit of
preferring, I’d like my mountains snow-
covered but my black, asphalt streets
dry – with no salt to muck up the
underbelly of my truck.

Winter is a clear head; free from
summer’s buzz. All the better thoughts
have settled to the bottom; sifted.
Winter is a reflection and a state of
quiet – no longer heading, but headed.

It feels good to take in a deep,
December breath and feel complete;
like I have managed to move more than
I sat.

In January, I write letters to my future self.
In December, I read them and laugh; goals
too broad in breadth. Then, calm as I wish,
revel in all the pleasant surprises, content.

Celebration of life – 11/10/18

I stared at all your faces
Sombre, though bright alike
They came from all your places
Some drove through the night

I recited poems and sang
The worship songs you’d want
My bright guitar strings rang
Hid my tears all nonchalant

It was impossible indeed
To see your daughter cry
Our simple family creed
Is try, then give, then try

Many wished they’d’ve spoke
Too hard a thing to do
I tried to calm them with a joke
And head back laugh in lieu

In pictures, young I saw
Your face lit up with glee
God’s gift of grace and awe
For many eternity

I know I did you proud
Don’t have to wish a thing like that
Your people sang real loud
I acted as diplomat

I closed with that poem
I read to you that day
Not ever a time alone
When that poem I hear you say
When that poem kneels down to pray

We have the honor to remain

We got everything in order for you.

The disability benefits for your final months.
The life insurance so we can pay off the house.
The automatic payments for the energy bill.
The files are in order.
The mail’s been checked.
The cars are paid off.
The radiation is done.
The chemo is through.

No more doctor’s appointments.

We got everything in order for you,
“Right down to the urn.”