All this thought excites me, the future unknown,
My self unraveling, revealing wondrous things.

I search for meaning in a photograph,
Ask of eyes in a face gone these years past,
Spread the cards that speak in tongues,
Touch a slender hand to cool metal,
Ask of a god not of biblical proportions
But of my own device to please lend me
Guidance, yet

As always, I am my own keeper.

The quest for knowledge,
For tangible proof of the acquisition of such,
The price is steep and my own happiness I must keep
In the forethought.

I am ever flowing, rarely compromising, but instead
Adaptable. Even the rush in wind though
Can break at some point.

When adversity strikes I grow still, think deeper
And in that stillness, the denseness, the bubbles
Form to solid mass, and it is hard, churning, coldly
Analytical. It is called “the endeavor to persevere”.
It does what it must to live.

Persevere mostly resides just below the surface,
A soft green moss on roots diving in to moist
Rich soil, only conquered by the brightness
Of the heart and soul that shines in a bright
White light.

The heart that bleeds bright red and smiles
Sweetly on the human touch. The heart that breaks
In sacrifice of others few, almost the martyr.

Others few, this is the purpose of life that sheds
Worldly matters like a cloak in the warmth of spring,
Realigning self. This is happiness. Happiness is you.

And my quest for knowledge? Will never flee.

I am ever thinking in lyrical veins
Bleeding ink on paper for all to view
I am passion bright that feeds the flames.
If time is not yours, I would be time around you
And I would keep you on your toes.

I write in the soft light of dawn,
Lose my coffee, go to look, come back
And find it there beside the book
I had just held when I thought I lost my coffee.

I was a bright, mischieviously introverted child,
You can see it in the eyes even at a year old, yes,
The picture of me being held by daddy smiling.

The meaning of life is
To be happy and love
Truly. I could never attain
A higher doctoral.

Could you support me
While I read and write
And keep the house, and
Plot of ways to thrill you?
Could I? Ah, I love to strategize.

Yesterday was the most beautiful day.
Pris was amazed with all the adversity
And puffy eyes that I smiled and blushed
And spoke of teasing of names, of being happy
In this moment, time and place.

What's a girl to do?
Go for a Piggy Pie
And paint her toenails
PEACH! lol.

I
Now she has a name,
A birthdate,

An address,

And I still want what I want.

II
Forgive me
For wishing her elsewhere?
It is selfish. I have never been

Selfish.

Until you.

Comes the true hart,
Come to eat the fruit ripe
And full, ready. She is ready.

I deal in possibilites not
Probabilities. - r.l.m.l.m.
You play at names
I blush profusely.
And the sweetest dreams
That come are the actualization
Of reality; diving in, eyes wide
In wonder, scared shitless.

It wasn't the state I absolved,
It was the union with incompataibilty.

I
How empowering,
The setting aside
Of emotions, gaining
The closure. Still
Working through
Physical details.
Moving forward,
The moon was
Bright and clear
Last night.

II
And they carry on
In their worlds lost
To each other anon
Until the inevitable
Day of wonder when
They come together
In sweetest embrace
And the earth shakes.
Lady hawk and man
Of the beast. Patience
Sooth away the day,
Sleep away the night.

Martin feels like he hit bottom, he says when you hit bottom there’s no place left to go but up. I laugh and say bullshit, there’s a whole lotta down you don’t know about till it hits you. I tell him, I say, when you hit bottom there’s nothing to do but smile and be happy and deal with it. I guess I've hit bottom a few times. I been making a list, crossing things out, adding to it, crying a bit and smiling a lot.

Martin is learning a lot from me; that you can't be committed to a commitmet, that you have to stop and think about compatability and if it's it what you really want. I'm learning a lot from him; not to rationalize things before they happen, that some things don't mean anything, they simply are. He's a good friend.

To me, there’s nothing more beautiful than life and I live it simply and with abandon, filling each day with passion - about my craft, my art, my soul, my heart. Little things bring me smiles like making sure my students eat. I do what makes me happy and what makes me happy is a certain smile, a certain voice and words that make me blush - one tall drink of water - and a mind sexy as hell.

On death in the past I wrote

I should stop going through things
Yet I am so close to closure.
Four weeks to the day
Robert died (in April 02) I wrote:
There’s fire in my belly, I want to spit.

And shortly after:

I
There was an ugly girl looking back at me
Instead of my own reflection. Her face is
Darkly tanned as only a man’s should be.

II
I pull the damp towel across my face pressing hard, knowing I should dab. My brother is dead. The astringent is made of lettuce, supposed to cool dry skin and it feels good when the air hits. Tears fall as fingers dab at the carrot cream that smoothes tiny wrinkles around the eyes. When did I get those? When did I get old enough to deal with this. When did my father get so frail. Why wasn’t he the one to kill. I killed my brother, didn’t I? Tears fall in rivers.

III
Can I fall apart now?
-nooo, not yet.
When?
-later, soon.
Why?
-he needs you,
-your daddy needs you,
-Robert needs you,
-you need you.

IV
It’s been over two months and his birthday’s come and gone yet I still cry most mornings. I owe him that. He wasn’t ready to leave. The desire and need to comfort him still remains and I feel that my thoughts are as much for him as for me.

V
I gaze up at the browning blossoms and disseminate slowly, gently pushed by slow rhythms until my eyes swell and crust and the tissue shreds in to a soggy drying mess. I thought she’d gone, Meloncholy, but time passed and she’s shown herself again.

I
Clearing out late summer,
Ready to move
Into the autumn of my life
With surety and confidence and joi de vive,

I come across the gifts from youth I presented
With the simple, unfettered nature of a child. Gifts
My mother set aside so callously then, Gifts she
Returned later to seek her own self.

Clearing out late summer,
Ready to move
Into the autumn of my life
With surety and confidence and joi de vive,

I come across gifts a young girl’s heart presented
With the unselfishness of the enamored,
Expression of thought and emotion
Taken for granted.

Clearing out late summer,
Ready to move
Into the autumn of my life
With surety and confidence and joi de vive,

I acknowledge, this is who I am.
This is who I want to be, giving
In nature and free of censure.

II
Capricorn: Time for a little autumn cleaning. Discard the detritus; keep only the good stuff.
Lol, I’m doing just that today, both mentally and physically.

III
I have questions to ask because I am curious. I will not ask them because I am afraid to move forward. Just a little while longer I would like to reside here in laughter’s sweetest kiss, seeing you as often as often as possible.

When all is said and done
At day's end I smile sweetly
If not a bit forlorn, think of
The last time and sleep in
Happy, sundrenched dreams.

Found letters from Laura in 93’. She was so hopeful and speaking of Katie and Simon not yet born. “She forgets to pull her pants down, I just can’t get her to understand. God they say boys are harder, what will I do!... I planted a bunch of bulbs outside, you’ll have to come in early spring.” And Katy’s scribbles at the end, make me cry. Her children, she loved so dearly, they were the world to her. I wonder why god made her so restless, dragging behind her the kids. I wonder why I was ever put in the position to support Chris’s claim for support while she was in jail. I wonder what they look like now that I retreated from their lives so long ago, wanting them the stability of family I never had even though mine was together under one roof. Someone called having sited her last year, wondering if I had heard anything at all. I said no, she came upon you after me. She was last seen leaving a little town in Oklahoma, headed to the city with a man.

The house at Sand Point.
I almost drove there today.
I wanted to visit Robert
And grandmother and
Granddaddy. Instead Pris
And I took sun and spoke
Of past, present and future.
Mostly of present where I reside.

Until you I had settled on
Growing old alone. Now
Know I that it is impossible,
Impassioned, I must share
Myself. I retreated because
I am tired. I am tired still.

Thought a lot today
Of sky blue dreams
And goals set when
None others came.
Thought a lot of you.

I am bad off with missing you.
If not on the same page, oh well,
I can only communicate me, what
I feel, what I perceive and hope
You will clarify as needed.

In the end I define
I am not happy overall,
Only with you, and
I need to be otherwise
Also. I am thinking.