Death is not warden of life, not thief, nor enemy — but Life’s most equal partner.
terri guillemets
composed by yours truly
Midlife midriff
Eating a lot of garbage and dessert-obsessive
for several months, I put on a few pounds
— and more.
Waddling is hell, and fat is a problem for the heart
— I’m hungry & in pain.
Waist weight is a cruel joke, and age is no help.
scrambled blackout poetry created from David Sedaris,
Shared wonder
Health is a relationship between you and your body.
Process
Your healing will never be complete if you treat it as a destination.
In a COVID fever
If this is to be my end, what would I want to tell the world?
Sometimes, starting over is the best medicine.
Everything you care about can teach you something about yourself. Everything you hate can teach you even more.
Most things don’t really matter. And the things that do really matter, keep them as simple as possible.
Learning to let go is the most valuable life lesson.
What you see is gossamer compared to what actually exists.
The human brain may be the deepest, most amazing, underutilized miracle in the universe. And the most abused.
Fear is a poison to every part of our systems. So are worry and tension. And hatred.
If little things make you happy, you are very wise.
Walking is good for the whole body, but it works the gears of the brain the most.
All of life is poetry. Listen.
Night is a dark, magical place we can curl up and relax into.
Those whom we love are the meaning — the meaning of life itself.
Mingle your mind with other minds, your heart with other hearts.
It can all be over in the blink of an eye, so treasure every blink.
The music of your soul lives on.
My life thus far has been
Since the day I was born, I’ve been nothing but emotion. With frequent intervals of coldhearted reason.
Get drunk once in a while. It makes the world make more sense.
No matter how much human wisdom there is, the best teacher is always nature.
I love you.
Creator with sense of humor
I know intelligent design doesn’t exist because whoever gave wings to
Flux
cracks in poetry
are not ruins
but gaps to let
meaning breathe
Hard to escape
Even happiness worries sometimes.
Threads
Life is woven of love and death, aches and smiles, persistence and letting go.
Midair
poets swing too high
until the chain kinks
and snaps
the
fall
is
poetry
Sepulturæ
Our bodies are the burial grounds of dead time.
“Time! where didst thou those years inter
Which I have seene decease?” —Wm. Habington
What 45 feels like at 3 a.m.
Middle age — a stealthy, crafty nemesis.
Jettison
Middle age is a heap of abandoned ideals.