Thursday, June 10, 2021

Aged 50

In ten years I 
hope to clearly 
write poems 
without punctuation
without wasted words

with nothing but heart


Monday, May 31, 2021

Forever Love

Trusting your significant other will eventually see the face they saw when you fell in love.

Trusting your significant other will eventually forgive the face they saw when you fell out of love.



Wednesday, May 26, 2021

To my brother, Nicolas

There is instinct, there is twin-stinct and then there is us. 
Neither of the former are as powerful as the latter.


Saturday, May 22, 2021

Gentle Honest Friends

A cigarette is an adult pacifier, a binkie--but at least a baby knows it. Nope. Neither knows it.

Both can only grow out of it with help. Help they don't want because it hurts.

It stunts their growth to have it. Their emotional growth, not physical.

Adults don't realize that God wants to kindly pull it out of their mouths.

If one doesn't believe in God, they need to listen to the observations repeated by good friends and strangers.

Friends say it nicely. Strangers give the news harshly.

Blessed are those
with good friends.
Gentle honest friends.

Replace "a cigarette" with "an emotionally comforting unhealthy behavior" and you can't judge the smokers.


Thursday, May 13, 2021

Tattoos

The bent arrow reminds 
her of sorrow. The golden 
ratio's geometry divines 
peace. Others embolden 

past memories or mind 
frames. She's not beholden 
to them. She's ever 
Kristen, herself, forever.


Sunday, April 25, 2021

Notes

Journal Excerpts

Being an artist is a unique curse. He is misunderstood but helps others see themselves.

God, I'd ask for my eyes to be blessed by folly but that's just as stupid as asking for wisdom.

I have to remember that my poet heroes are those who persisted despite the demons inside themselves. Some won. Many didn't. Those who won shook hands with their internal enemies and acknowledged that they were him and he were they.

She would tolerate her kitten's kneading her bare arm. She's accepted the pain of love, before.

God is more than a reflection of ourselves.

I was reading about Roethke's experience with writing. He let go a bit as he aged--he let loose and improved.

How to honor a painting with a poem? It's been done. How to honor a Van Gogh painting with a poem? One must be in tune with the spirit.

This is my favorite part of the day, sitting at my desk by the partially opened kitchen window and reading/writing just before dawn. The sky goes from deep blue, pink to purple, orange, and then there she is over the neighboring buildings. Likewise the color of the buildings change with the rising sun as the windows are lighted one by one, and the neighbors are rising. Now there is only two lighted apartment windows in the rear square yard. The sun is up.

"I keep making what I can't do yet in order to learn to be able to do it." Van Gogh to Van Rappard


Thursday, April 15, 2021

6

The rain eases.
A black-capped
chickadee trills
joy, screams relief.
So brash! The leaves 
clap encouragingly. 


Saturday, April 3, 2021

5

(Photo by Taslima Akhter)

The sea of stone 
in which they swim 
cements the lovers' 
embrace. 
                One wave's 
weight breaks 
her back. 
                The death-
grip strain stains his 
cheek, a final tear 
of blood.


Wednesday, March 31, 2021

4

Daybreak exhumes
the edifice out of the night
and lights its many gilded eyes.


Friday, March 26, 2021

3

The river thunders. 
In fits, the mist lifts over
the bridge, and a hierarchy
of green climbs the cliffs
till crowning the falls.
Dr. Williams, do these
things hold ideas?


Friday, March 19, 2021