The Passing of Time

Your wristwatch broke
You carried a pocket watch
You think I didn’t remember?

You think I don’t remember.

It was then, then. I know it was.
Maybe it was the first time
But I know now what my heart denied then.
You think I had forgotten when?

You think I don’t know the time.My heart broke – tore to shred really.
You carried a tongue of swords
lashing and crashing and thrashing me to bits.
You thought I would have forgotten that time?
You thought I wouldn’t remember?
I know the time and I remember everything.
 
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Monday morning

These days motivation hides behind pretty lakes and ponds and trees and birds. Where is the darkness? Where are the pigs and hearts on platters? Where is all that emptiness wrapped up in Americana? I can’t seem to see any of it. I would probably worry if I wasn’t so dreadfully at peace.

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The name of my newest future novel:

This little life of mine.

Home, Home, Home

Water under the bridge
It rises with the tide
It trickles onto my toes
And Onto my ankles it flows.
 
The years have defined and redefined this road.
I was often lost. I was misguided.
But the road remains – steady and long
Taking me places and guiding me home.
 
These places are far but always near
Reminding me of where I’ve been
Who I’ve been
Who I am.
 
I am awake in the night
I am basking in the moon’s glow
I am glimmering and shimmering and welcoming
I am made of stars.
 
Home is.
I am.
I am home.
 
I wrote this today while at a poetry workshop. I like it.

This Long Homecoming

Water under the bridge raises up, it splashes at my bare feet. While the blue jays fly, I am grounded. I’m rooted. I’m tangled in brambles.

Its been a long time since there was a path. Its been a long time since I knew you. Its been a long time since we held fire.

Bootleggers never call anymore. And I’m so thirsty these days.Image They stopped when you left, not like you ever did. Under skin and under the weather. You could set me free still, you know?