Day 272

There will be more to this, but I need more time. And, tonight I took some night time cold medicine; my time is limited.



The village was filled with ancient buildings.
Buildings that existed before the war.
Buildings that were rebuilt as exact replicas.

The fall weather was spectacular.
The sky was clear.
The wind nonexistent.

The cemetary was even more ancient
than the surrounding buildings.
Plots with dates from over a thousand years ago.
Plots that were overgrown and barely recognizable.

Day 271

Solitude

She walked alone.
The road was beautiful,
castles on the left
across the water,
vineyards to the right,
up the imposisbly steep hill.
The machines of industry just below.

She loved being alone.
The rest of her time was
filled with people
and responsibilities,
with noise and fear
of being discovered as not belonging.
Her weekly walks became the
only time she could be herself.

Day 270

The tracks stretch out to the horizon
Trees tower along the side
bands of gold, red and purple cut across the sky
a car drives by.

Day 269

Put Aside

My things were
in a chest
in a closet.
Their disarray
tucked away.

My life was
in a series of
three by three
drawers.

Day 268

A baby cries.
The kind of cry that will make it
impossible for her to ever have
a mellifluous singing voice.
A girl is nauseous.
The kind of nausea that grabs hold,
spins you, twirls you, shakes you and
makes it impossible to even lift your head.
A woman sleeps.
The kind of sleep that is impossible
without the help of hunger, exhaustion and
a steady morphine drip.

Day 267

Key West

Hundreds slowly converged
On the concrete boardwalk,
Hoping to see the green sun.
Musicians played jazz in the distance.
Across the water, ships floated,
Oblivious to the improvised notes.

Day 266

Restroom Rancor

A bald, black woman
stood at the far end of the line sinks,
fixing herself,
washing her face,
freshening up.
She smoothed lotion over her
already smooth scalp,
the remnants of hair just visible
in a 3 o'clock shadow.

A drunk, white woman
stood at the front of the line for the toilets,
grabbing herself,
mussing her hair,
cursing aloud.
She hurled insults at the
bald, black woman,
bragging about her own beautiful,
bedraggled hair.

The bald black woman
just kept looking forward
and mumbled a passive retort under her breath.
Our eyes met while I washed my hands.
She apologized to me. I didn't need it.
I understood exactly.

She was beautiful.

Day 265

Dark Train

The train sways left and right
when the lights go out.
Conversations cease for a moment.
An iota of an inkling of fear creeps in.
Purses are held just a little bit tighter.
Emergency signs glow with their warnings.
Neon exits beckon with their simple command.
The only lights in the darkness.
The train sways left and right.

Day 264

Insecurity of Insecurity

When morning first comes

and the alarm rings,

I know it simply won't wake.

It will be an hour of

snoozing and curling up cozy 

before the noise will take.

When I pick out my clothes

and try them all on,

I know I'll hate how they fit.

It will be combos of shirts

and jeans and skirts.

Somedays, I just want to quit.

When I put on my makeup

and think it looks nice,

by noon, I'll see all its flaws.

It'll run. It'll fade

and I'll look like a whore.

I'll doubt what beauty I saw.

When the day ends

and I'm heading home,

I'll be happy to wash it away.

I'll wonder and I'll worry 

that everyone could see

how imperfect I felt all day.

Day 263

A Fever Dream in Reality

A chorus of lobsters
sing thier best Queen
while salmon sing Pavoratti.
A pedal powered crocodile
with a tick tock belly
zigs and zags
around cardboard dinosaurs.
A two story metal and glass giraffe
with lava lamps for ears
rolls by the
Santa in hot pants
while a helix of plastic
looks on in repurposed silence.
Octopi grow out of thin air
while drones fight in a cage.
A wall of moving penises
dances in a private tent.
Ahhh..... science.

Day 262

I'll do more on this tomorrow. For tonight, I must sleep.

What a day of
Sights and sounds.
With crazy robotics and
Crafty humanoids all around.

Day 261.

The death of my sister, Kathie, was the most life altering thing that has ever happened to me and my family. If anyone is the survivor of a suicide, you know exactly what I mean. It's devastating. There is nothing that can heal that wound. You only learn how to deal with it over time, and hopefully you learn how to use that pain toward something positive.

Kathie was 25 when she died. Today is the 25th anniversary of that day. That's pretty monumental.  I didn't realize that when I set out on my poetry journey this year. In fact, I didn't even realize it until about an hour or so when I sat down to write today's poem. I'm glad that is. It means that I get to share these thoughts with all of you.  Thank you. For everything.



25

Today,
You have been gone
as long as
You were alive.

In the before
You were a daughter
You were a dancer
You were a student
You were a soldier
You were a mother
You were a sister
You were a friend
You were a lover
You were a ray of sunshine
when we were in darkness.
You were a beautiful face
with a beautiful soul.

In the after
You are a memory
You are a reminder
You are a ghost
You are a feeling
You are an inspiration
You are a distraction
You are perfect
You are a burden
You are a shadow of doubt
in the afternoon sun.
You are a dagger
straight through the heart.



25 (2)

The feeling of time passing
as a lifetime means
nothing when it actually is.



25 (3)

In the time that you've been gone
I've cried
I've yelled
I've loved
I've hated
In the time that you've been gone
I've learned
I've lead
I've failed
I've waited
In the time that you've been gone
I've lived.



Twenty Five Years of Life and Death

A tiny baby girl that arrived too soon
Dancing in tutus
Plaid pants that sat way too high
Silly faces
A broken tooth that was fixed poorly
Frizzy hair
A commitment to Uncle Sam
Mean men
A blonde baby boy
Diapers
Struggling to make ends meet
Filthy apartment
Deep pain that could never be healed
Broken inside
A beautiful woman that left too soon
Goodbye.

Day 260

NineOneNineEightNine

Nine
I'll never stop missing you.
One
Every day, you're in my thoughts.
Nine
I'll never understand
Eight
The pain you carried.
Nine
It's not for me to know.

Day 259

When I Walked Through The Door

When I walked through the door,
you grabbed me, pulled me to you.
I was a life preserver in a deserted ocean.
You kissed me, drank me in.
I was ice water in a barren desert.
You wrapped me in your arms.
I was a teddybear with which you could not bare to part.
You filled my mind, heart, soul.
I was yours forever.

Day 258

I wanted this to be more, but after about an hour of attempting various directions, I think I'm just going to leave it at this.


Around The World

The box arrived at her doorstep
in the late afternoon.
It was full of possibilities
that would simply have to wait.
She would be the latest stop
on its journey.

Day 257

Where Were You

when it counted?
when I needed you?
when I was lost?
when I cried?
when I failed?
when I succeeded?
when I couldn't do it on my own?
when it mattered most?

Day 256

You Won.

You reeled me in
with your eyes of longing,
with your passionate kisses at the door,
with your desperation for me.

You broke me
with your lies and truths,
with your pushing and pulling,
with your cryptic feelings.

You scarred me
with the misstated future you promised,
with the hate daggers you threw,
with the transparent bandages you offered.

You won.
I stopped expecting kindness.
I stopped asking for more.
I stopped looking for love.

Day 255

You always thought I asked for too much
when all I ever wanted was love.
You always thought I cared too much
when all I ever wanted was deceny.

You always pushed me away
when I got too close
then pulled me in
when I turned away.

You always wanted nothing of me
when I would've given you everything.

Day 254

Morning

The alarm rings softly,
A tune I chose myself.
It's a beautiful little melody
That gently sings me awake.
I snooze.
The second time the alarm rings louder,
A mediocre melody I chose myself.
It's a lovely little tune
That taunts me awake.
I snooze.
The third time the alarm sounds,
It's the same melody as before.
I no longer claim the tune
That threatens me awake.
I snooze.
The fourth time the alarm blares,
It's the same annoying melody.
I vow to change the beeping
That forces me awake.
I snooze.

Day 253

Today is 9/11. I couldn't stop at just one poem. 2 of these are inspired by the same moment. I was driving into Brooklyn for a candle light vigil on the first Friday after. I had a very emotional moment along the way. The others speak for themselves.

If you are sensitive to 9/11, please read with caution. Some of the phrases may not be easy to take.


Smoke Towers

I saw the smoke
As I rounded the corner.
My spirit caught
Inside my breath.
Suspended.

The grey consumed me
As I watched the plumes.
My world insignificant
On the side of the road.
Paralyzed.

We suffered through the aftermath,
As our world crumbled.
Our cozy existence
Lieing in pieces.
Shattered.



On The Belt

It caught me off guard
When I rounded the corner.
That stretch of the Belt
Would never be the same.
I had never even known
You could see them from there.

The plumes of smoke,
110 stories high,
Overtook the panorama.
Their arms billowing toward New Jersey.
A horrible, upside-down Tetris block.

I could not breath.
I could not think.
I sat on the shoulder
Sobbing uncontrollably.


Gone

We would never be the same.
All those people.
Dead.
All those people.
Petrified.
Putrified.
Solidified.
Smoldering.
Buried.
Gone. Forever.
We would be at war.
More people would die.
People like me.
People like them.
Soldiers.
Innocents.
Violence would be commonplace.
Hatred.
Anger.
Vengeance.
All those people.
All of those people.
Gone.
In a plume of smoke
Over New Jersey.


I Was Sleeping

I was sleeping when
The plane hit the first tower.
I was sleeping when
The plane hit the second tower.
I was sleeping when
The plane hit the Pentagon.
I was sleeping when
The plane was forced
Into the ground by a
Group of unassuming civilians.
They were not sleeping.
They will forever be at rest.

Day 252

Panic

When I opened my eyes

I only saw darkness

Pitch black

Unending

Tar black

Darkness

My breath stopped

Out of my control

My heart beat frantically

The pitter tat tat of a millions drums

When I lifted my arm

I only felt pain

Tied down

Tight binds

Skin burning

Sliced

My breath escaped

My mouth

My heart stopped

Frozen.

A tear escaped my eye.

It would follow its own path

Down my face

And collect on my chin.

Day 251

The Aftermath

What's left behind
Is a wake
Of tears and pains
The ripple of which
Will roll on
Forever.

Day 250

I long to be free
To leave behind the
Insecurities
Prejudices
Preconceived notions
Rules & regulations.
I long to be free
To open my arms and
Embrace and
Fly and
Stretch and
Reach outwards.

Day 249

This happens to me more often than I'd like to admit. I'm somewhere that I can't get to a pen and paper, usually driving, and an idea pops into my head. Ooh, I like it. I'll jot it down as soon as I stop. Within minutes, I am stopped. Minutes. Yet, somehow the idea is now gone. Lost for all eternity.  So, out of that, this arose. It's so frustrating. Do you have any idea how many poems would've been written if I could only remember what the hell I wanted to write about? Who knows? One of them could have even been the next great American novel!


What was the idea that was just in my head?
It was there just a second ago.
How could I have lost it so soon after it came?
Yet, it is nowhere to be found.

Was it about love or loss?
Hope or despair?
Food or hunger?
Empty air?
Was it about poems or prose?
Life or death?
Friends of family?
Your last breath?

We'll never know what it could've been
For he ran away so quickly.

Day 248

For a Moment

There are moments
When the longing returns
As if it were yesterday
And the pain was still new.
Fresh. An open wound.

In those moments,
I love you.
I want nothing but to be sitting next to you
And to hold you.
Safe. Home.

There are moments
When I forget about the ending
And the reasons you left
And the reason I left.
Nostalgic. Wanting.

In those moments,
I think we could make it work
As if there was never anything wrong
And we were perfect together.
Happy. Comfortable.

There are moments
When I remember the poison
That I had in my veins
From that thing you said.
Hateful. Demeaning.

In those moments,
I think about the daggers
I always carried
Ready to lash out.
Defensive. Insecure.

There are moments
When I wonder what you would say
If you knew, really knew me
And all of the thoughts in my head.
Hurtful. Secretive.

In those moments
I regret everything.
I regret nothing.
I knew love with you.
Soft. Sweet.

Day 247

Him

I melt.
        an ice cube in the Arizona sun
I am helpless.
        a newborn bird high in its nest
I float.
        a piece of driftwood on the ocean
I am silent.
        a morning after a nuclear blast
I sink.
        an anchor to the ocean floor

Day 246

Two Four Six Eight
Hurry now! It's getting late!
Four Six Eight Two
We're here waiting just for you.
Six Eight Two Four
Call now! You'll get so much more!
Eight Two Four Six
We will be your top pick.
Two Four Six Eight
Supplies are too low to wait!

Day 245

Summer's End

The clock struck twelve on the last day.
As flames of fear consumed my skin,
I waited.
At once thrilled and petrified,
I waited.
It was the shortest day I'd ever known.
I waited.

Day 244

Child in the Morning, Adult by Night

I couldn't wait to be a teenager.
What little girl can?
With all their firends
And all thier parties
And all their clothes
And their boyfriends
And the prom
And college.

I couldn't wait to be a grown up.
What little girl can?
With all their money
And their late nights
And their sexy TV
And their weekends away
And their freedom
And their power.

Today, I got what I wanted.
Today, I skipped being a teenager.
Today, I became an adult.

Today, I learned that
I have to live with my actions.

Today, I learned about death.

Day 243

The River Changed Us

Within minutes,
the dock
was engulfed.
The spot where
I had fished
only yesterday
was gone.

Within minutes,
the blue
was erased.
The silt from
the delta
tie-dyed the water
with brown.

Within minutes,
tree trunks
were hidden.
The ancient bark
surrounded by
the water
was soggy.

Within minutes,
the bend
was straightened.
The sharp curve
that claimed
so many boats
was safe.

It was said that the waters
would recede.
It was said that the river
would be normal.

But we reveled
in this
new geography.

Within minutes,
our old lives
were history.

Within minutes,
we began anew.