Okay — I give in — I accept you — Middle Age
I am tired — I want to sit down — unrushed —
to read — and drink hot tea — and — Breathe
the number of years behind me — and ahead of me —
no longer concern me — mathematically or emotionally
I have come to rest in the sturdy arms of the Present —
where Time has been waiting for me — my whole Life
poems
Inkside out
a writer tries valiantly
to transform his insides
into an intricate beautiful painting
and publish himself inside-out
for all the world to see
In loss still they dance!
the leaves all dance
to the same breeze —
but some flutter and some fall
some shiver and some sway —
and when a gust comes
they lose themselves —
but are no less beautiful
on the ground, where resting
they still yet dance, but free
Hoofprints
Fortune is a centaur —
half man, half luck
O! ¿queso what?
What are flowers without the bees,
What of grasses without the breeze?
Nothing the wind if not for the trees,
Nada la quesadilla sin el cheese.
Two A.M. drops
dancing in the rain
at nature’s cloudy party
Veggie soup
peeling this sweet potato
i can smell the earth
i close my eyes and smile
then cry —
when did i get so removed
from the soil, the land
from simplicity —
the family garden
in grade school
my bare feet on warm dirt
i was so happy
there were carrots
and worms
and life
was carefree —
i finish making soup
do the chores
the day was busy
i am tired —
the nights
when there is time
enough leftover
to snuggle into bed
a little early & read
and i can keep
my eyes open
long enough for it —
this is heaven
simple, free, happy
heaven
Girl-heart
her smiling girl-heart danced
behind the grey, grey hair
scrambled blackout poetry created from Enid Bagnold,
Opening night
monsoon winds tell tales
lightning dances thunder sings
rain is main event
Pierced flight
thorns and stings
and those such things
just make stronger
our angel wings
P.S. Thank you to everyone who has written letting me know that Katya Elise Henry got a tattoo of this poem. Honestly, I didn’t know who she was and had to look it up. But that’s pretty cool, and a nice tattoo.
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,
Fallen
Has man fallen?
You, man, arise…
—James Oppenheim, “1914—And After,” War and Laughter, 1916
Flux
cracks in poetry
are not ruins
but gaps to let
meaning breathe