Some weeds are nourishing, and some medicinal;
Some are beautiful, colorful, and downright flowery;
And yet others, even those that pop up one fine morning
as the tiniest innocent young sprouts of green —
are relentless, run riot, and are one hundred and ten percent determined as @#!% to @#!% up your @#!% yard if it @#!% kills the @#!% both of you!
Endlessnesses
My grief is like a magician’s endless scarf — the more I let out the
Holes & tears
Missing you isn’t just an empty void — it’s what-ifs and questions and endless thoughts and bittersweet memories and runaway feelings and emotions that can’t get a hold on anything physical so just slip and slide around my mind, and hide and re-emerge.
What 45 feels like at 3 a.m.
Middle age — a stealthy, crafty nemesis.
Emanate
You don’t always have to pray for something, or to someone — you can just simply pray.
Understanding death
I read an article stating that cats don’t understand death the way humans do, so they don’t fear it like we do — I think they understand better than
S.W.A.K.
Love letter: an inky heartprint.
None excluded
Prayer is for the grateful and for the
Whole body, whole spirit
We thank
on our knees
with folded hands
for full bellies
and fuller hearts
Two A.M. drops
dancing in the rain
at nature’s cloudy party
The feels & frights of aging
With each passing year, the body turns more prison than shelter.
Away
Sometimes what gets to you most isn’t the large holes that get ripped from your heart but the fraying of its edges — when what held you together isn’t anymore.
Writing styles
After all these years I’ve finally pegged my writing style —
—“Ink marrow,” 2009
On the days I’ve had too much coffee, my writing style turns to overcaffeinated spiritual warrior.
—“Kiai!,” 2012
After thirty-four years of writing, I feel that I’m finally about to break free from my juvenilia phase. In a few
—“Self-taut,” 2019