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 

wibble-wobble

I’ve grown 

to dislike tomato seeds

gelatinous to the touch to the tongue 

and messy foods

to my eyes unappealing 

to dislike disorder and yet

my bed stays unmade

fur on the floor even after a sweep 

dishes always needing a wash

mind slightly controlled chaos 

Robusta too bitter rips my stomach apart

the crackling of a blackened heart

amidst deep hues burnt red

drags down the bones

the flesh the sinew that connects 

hazed in a cool room mending

sweet-tea cooling beside the bed

not if but when

breathless is the heart

fit to burst 

as my Love grows I know 

she will break me 

as if the Shattering of you

was a mere nuisance 

and now my knees are cold

I

sleeping in summer’s scorching 

months of kicking restless 

flesh too hot for dreaming

light and sound at their slightest 

dazed in waking moments

all night long

II

last night I woke huddled 

in a blanket over cold ears

as She slept close, curled 

in chaos, in fall bedding dug 

into a nest in the night 

I never woke but the  once

craving lemon squares and fireball candies

I

there’s an offer on the house 

a fortnight ago given 

the second thought to have fell

through the ways of banks 

saying yes…but wait…

a wait-weight negated now 

I am asked to wait a few more days

while papers are sorted,

hope kept close lest it fade

II

it’s always come easy, the stillness 

of body and a gaze attentive 

learned I to live on others’ time 

even acknowledging with words 

understanding easy off the lips

It’s the mind, my mind, unseen

behind the wizard’s curtain 

where organized clutter thrums in baskets 

loosely woven, the cacophony discordant 

craves lemon squares and fireball candies 

cracks and protrusions

I

the pressure to perform

in perpetual motion 

be a shark be a lion, ROAR

along those lines allowed 

I learned this was the Way;

naught for trying as a babe

in the woods I have teetered 

concrete or bramble both paths trudged

but the shiny always beckoned 

in the peripheral flittering 

‘come sit, come sit and calm’

it cooed, ‘look to your own self’

II

the walkabout unsteady on

pavement leaning, gray-grey 

are the cracks and protrusions 

reaching for walls and sign posts

stopping for cars, head on a swivel 

Hope keeps dangling thing 1 thing 2

as she always has as she always will

will, willingly would won’t, all the Ws

will I make it to you before you go?

and will you know me?

as I look around

 I

on the stone etched I chose 

ivy one side flowers the other 

II

it was always spring 

when things occurred 

births deaths shattering

shipping ash for internment 

III

in winter I was born, Caprica

the youngest yet always the oldest 

accidental rhyme

I

ain’t no right way ain’t no wrong

just the “common” and something other 

II

along the wall where flowers cling 

straddling the line of rule between 

one foot in the white space each side 

toes exploring water warm riverside 

a heart little, cracked, still, thrumming low

headspace spatially in the ether flow 

once a warrior, now she knows the calm

oh ‘Verse, you are a fickle thing…

once, words were life blood warring 

to spill forth from crevices exposing 

raw bones of grieving 

of blood on my lips

a scarring 

from decisioning too young

my only what-if

yestermorrow, a let-me was uttered 

reminiscent of a youth spent

yearning flailing

mourning of a thing palpable…

reigned in, I looked-about 

at the Sweetness

of little paws dreaming;

thinks nestled to a thrumming 

gratuitously, I’ve been given 

and words like life

can unfold the only way they will

 

without notice

vines contorted

through fences rusted

the odd flower blooms 

she sees what others pass

without notice, roots shallow 

in soil under stones 

“I think I thought I saw…”

when we walk without 

notice we naught

the beauty protruding

growing in cracks

crevices and fence lines 

in the between - minute 

go as careful with your your thinks

as you would with your steps 

my thinks my knows

I

I think a thing I do a thing

no one to it - entitled 

unseen unknown

no proof of presence 

footprint in the sand

did I think it did I do it

if no proof came forth 

11

my thinks my knows

filling hours shared with hair

shook from four legs 

breathless my heart 

swells for pitter-patter

in still corners cooled

humming lulls lightly 

little paws kneading 

in slumber she runs free

III

the tether tied to whence 

I came is whence I’ll return 

take me to your river 

I wanna go home 

sing, sing a song, sing it out

haters here haters there

hating hate-hate haters everywhere 

hating you hating me

what we think is what we’ll be

happy in the white space unseen

holding space 

for others

in their heartlight

gloriously unfolding 

into a gray medium 

of existence 

without announcement 

happy in the white space 

unseen 

Shaka, the walls fall

at fifty-3 I shredded

decades 

of journals and files, taxes 

burdens weighting-mooring 

opting for impermanence

space between landscapes widening 

divides

eye-off any prize save life

I tried-try to root but couldn’t settle 

at fifty-6 I shred

longing 

for where my blood lay 

in ether buried scattered interred 

morning lulls

I-a

flailing in the figuring 

on my own in the quiet 

reaching for the buoys

I found I could float 

but can’t really swim 

II - segue 

cutting chords 

on glass tables 

I consume the sings 

a high slow and low 

 I-b 

nevertheless in the stillness 

of the quiet I calm

and inhale deep the bright 

through eyes wide shut 

I do not want: I do not need

where existing is a chore

the daily go-about devolves

make no sound

do not move  

the fucking fuck

fuckers will notice

then you’ll get it…

something to really cry about 

Yup

girl power: girl boss

the infantalization of women

just another self-societal imposition 

of Wonder Woman Syndrome

some of us are done with it 

walk softly, go easy on yourself 

it’s okay, Ladies, to stop and take deep breaths 

bean shaped things

I

those bean shaped things 

in my body, royally fucking-up

the rest just trying to get by

II

the exhaustive lull of napping 

in cool rooms half lit, twice

sometime before noon 

with thinks singed by fog

III

my longest love eluding 

even the most creative ways

of consuming, unappealing 

hunger unconsumed