Life – as it is

I yelled and kicked and fought with all my might.Yet morning screamed through the heavy drapes as I had no say about the progression of time.

Except for the dawn that claws at the eastern horizon, today feels no different than yesterday. It’s a sad state, really. I’ve been told that a world of promise sits on my doorstep yet when I look, the doorstep is scattered with leaves. What is life without false promises? I suppose that might be called contentment.

I would wager that you expected a different answer. I believe that happiness can be (and usually is) both fabricated and overblown. Contentment is my goal. I don’t think that is beyond hope.

Hello, Beth. How’s life? Well, this year really sucks, thank you. Two of my sisters died this year. As an odd twist of fate, I am now the oldest female in my family at age 38. Is it right that I wake each morning and thank the stars that I breathed through another night? The mega-Christians would say Hallelujah. I am only at the wtf stage.

My pets are doing well. My parrot, Sunny, is going through a peek-a-boo phase. Even in the middle of the night, when I get up to pee as most humans do, he huddles in his cage and mutters peek-a-boo. Dear Rosco, my dog, is slowing down. He sleeps most of the day and snuggles close whenever he can

Tell me about your autumn. I kind of missed mine since I couldn’t go back to Ohio a third time. The first two were for my sisters’ funeral. I think it would have been fun to attend the festival and laugh. My accountant vetoed the idea.

There isn’t anything poetic here. I’m just trying to write and reach out. 

What scares me the most is that a dear friend once wrote about the nightmarish blank page. I think I’m living it.

Even if you don’t make a habit of praying, I ask you to take a moment and offer strength to my father. He has buried two daughters within 3 months of each other. He is precious to me.

Love you, Daddy


morning slipped on a raindrop

I miss the curious curve of your lips
and your palm tree stance,
the salt-shaker starlight nights
and discovering my name
on your sleep-breath.

I miss your hand protecting mine
and how our fingers
as a secret passed in a seeking crowd.

I miss vanilla candles on a rainy night
front porch dinner for only two
and how the shore rocks served
as a closet beside a mattress
of white sand and sea salt.

I miss your soothing baritone
singing answers to questions
that I never thought to ask
and crooning questions
without answers.

And I miss you.

Bound to the Sun

I stare into the eyes of the sun
and though he steals my vision,
I welcome his honesty
and undisguised harshness.

searing reality
in contradictions

I stare into the eyes of another,
one whose frozen flint blinds
and binds
with motives hidden

in artificial sweetener,
assumed persona
and fairy tale reenactments.

searing reality
in contradictions

I see myself in only one
and choosing


I find myself bound
to the cancerous sun.

Of all the gifts

I gave you trust
and you tucked it into your pocket,
a gesture I saw as gratitude
until I realized it was wedged between
toads and stones.

I was frivolous with devotion
and though I secretly hope(d) for its return,
I no longer reserve a place for it
in the off chance…

and though I gave you my word,
that is one thing I intend to keep,

not for you,
but for myself.

echoes from black coffee reflections


a pair of brown-tint eyes glint
in the swaying surface
of coffee, returning my hazel gaze
before surrendering life force
to my caffeine starved lips

bitter earth blends with morning breath
as mug-warmed fingers rub leftovers
from puffy tearducts
and knots left by a thousand threads
counting restless sheep

all too real
visions fade like incongruous years
to I-can’t-remember
except for the haunting sound
of a bleating wolf

Image: Adamo Photography