Musings and Misgivings
Robin Hood, the wayfaring thief that fed the hungry,
has disappeared like the humanity
that prompted him in the first place
Friar Tuck tried to save the poor,
but the rich have always claimed
their full pockets are God’s blessings
Hard Work pays off, they say,
and pays no taxes
Hard Work pays no mind
to the misty eyes of the beggar
or the sex worker or the addict
Because Jesus made his choice
If only they could see,
Jesus was more of a Robin Hood
than a billionaire
11-19-19
Dancing, black silhouette behind a snow-soaked pane
A tree or a sprite, maybe,
It’s hard to make out through her wings–
like mossy green growths from her chair–
brushing the walls in narrow halls,
trailing her scent of clove and citrus
with traces of glitter
when she sings, the trees bend in half
and my heart swells against my ribs
until we’re all pleasantly uncomfortable,
inside and out
For a moment I remember the first time
I heard Tori Amos while reading up on time travel
and I feel myself astral projecting
beyond the dark strings and siren notes
No one notices me flying before I catch myself
staring at the shadow outside, still dancing
11-11-19
Shhhhh
I can hear him now
He knows what he’s spinning,
but fragility is a master crafter
and he is her apprentice
He tiptoes on eight legs
and argues that he is complex,
but I don’t think so
We all keep secrets in the bathtub
next to the soap
so when we cast silken nets
and late night texts,
we can clean what we catch
Anyway, stoking the fire
is better than burning bridges
and social media is just a pleasantry
So he reaches with each limb
to keep his web from crumbling,
but what’s left of our nest
has already fallen
You see, some secrets grow up
to be big black holes
and I won’t be sucked
into someone else’s mess
10/22/19
the dry leaves dance,
but the earth stands still
a hesitation
like one last squeeze of Mother’s hand
before taking the teacher’s
while the fog is crisp
and the sun is soft,
the mornings drag
like stale cigarettes
in a prison guard’s mouth,
watching
as the world falls,
she soaks in hot springs,
shedding summer’s robe
and painting in brilliant
gold and then white
only for you to stain her canvas
with fumes and false promises
10-03-19
Barelegged and braless,
stargazing at the wall,
waiting for
a burning ball of gas
to sweep me into a vacuum
where the air is so thin
that my brain can’t
find it
“How does that make you feel”
they would ask
and I’d say “weightless”
for now, though, it’s all heavy
and my eyes are falling in
so I can’t see the starlight
only a wall
9-04-19
If I was a bird
I’d fly as effortlessly
as she pulls on his heart
and watch him watch her
through the clouds
There are other wings
he’s fixed
but he’s never had to bandage hers
so I wonder sometimes
if he sees me as wounded
or if someday he could look up
and see me
in the same sky
8-22-19
Sometimes shattered glass still cuts my brain
and you see me wince like the child I was
when I went running through the tall grass
with snakes and ticks and spiders
who made better company
than the venomous tongues in the kitchen
Resolution was a closed door
and three young girls
talking about tomorrow behind it
Peaceful were the days when I foraged for
shredded cheese and ketchup sandwiches
and raced the dogs to the creek
Heavenly were the days when I visited
my friend in the trailer park
and we sang Shania on the trampoline
while her mom made us macaroni
(she always asked if I wanted seconds)
Now I nod along to J.D. Vance
but you can’t understand where we’ve been
and how hard it is to throw away the white trash
that we’ve collected in heart-heavy landfills,
our memories like landmines exploding
with a mere whiff of mildew
or the sound of shattered glass on linoleum floors
8-16-19
how do I talk to a river
when I am an ocean,
pushing and pulling,
swelling but never
reaching the mouth
you are constant and strong
most days I am quiet and calm,
but some days I rip through
my own flesh to break free of the tide
how could you ever understand
the storm that bites my heels
or why I never left it at the riverbanks
where I sought any semblance
of love or strength or presence
to stifle my little voice
I thought I was preserving it
but I think I may have lost it
somewhere in a prayer
so how do I talk to a river
now that I am faithless
7-25-19
The sauvignon blanc fills his mouth and
his eyes burn blue and gray and bright
as the kitchen’s light
He crafts his incite like a carpenter,
filling my ears with the sawdust of a previous life,
but all I can hear is “A Case of You”
And I finally understand what Joni meant
I have always collected rain water
but I have never stood out in a storm
with my mouth and eyes wide open,
watching my future light up the sky
in shades of blue and gray
I have never been this sober
and I have never been so in love with the rain
7-9-19
