wherever you go, there you are

I

yesterday was not a good day

not the worst, just not

optimal yet still

my stillness was mine to own

alone no one to worry 

to judge to make false

assumptions of my quiet 

exhaustion and bile-induced 

by little beans screeching

II

methodic in my madness 

why this day or that day

I cannot say, the Way 

has always been suspect

amused at my guess-tures

III

and so little bites I ate:

squiggles and green things

black speckled tartness to fill

the quota required 

IV

today is a better day

words I consumed confirm

yesterday may simply be

where progression leads

a wet nose that startles

I

I think it was the newness 

of the Other that beckoned 

‘cause what was was not 

working into exhaustion 

living at the speed of light 

II

yet here in the Other 

every day I feel drugged 

down, perseverance 

through the sheer will

of little Caprica

and a wet nose that startles 

III

someday when the river calls 

the ferryman will find me 

any which way I go…

on a Saturday in the quiet

a steady stream 

of headlight coming-going

through window shears

I watched while laying

still in the coolness 

of four-thirty a.m. 

I wondered, eyes half shut

where did you come from 

where are you going so early 

on a Saturday in the quiet 

a soft wet nose shifted 

toward me while I cooed 

soft and low, ‘sweet love, sleep…’

I surely would

If I could I would pull flesh from sinew and wrap it ‘round her as a blanket while she press-pushes hard against me to sleep in the morning coolness and I have mere inches for myself. 

when life gives you lemons

tuck them away 

in the coolness to covet

admire them on every opening 

reach for them when ready; 

process the guilt

of wasting a minuscule amount 

convincing yourself it’s okay,

“I can’t deal with the seeds anyway” 

with the mess of juicing 

wash rinse repeat

I

I’m always fighting

predicative text now in two

languages as if one weren’t 

enough - Birdie won’t go walk

every day all day patience 

is required here

II

overwhelmed in the quiet 

of a room half lit 

something outside…

my heart breaks 

for her shivering and ears prickled 

inconsolable when I awoke earlier 

to escape any madness 

I can’t pinpoint but no….

I am thwarted and there She is

lost in the unheard 

III

the entire country knows

I have a mouth on me now 

when wild dogs let out

to roam and terrorize 

come at my girl and me

on a perfectly good walk

my tongue cuts the quiet 

and eyes like daggers

scatter anyone near;

once a decade or two 

I am not myself