shine on me

As the blue moon slides into the envelope of darkness
a fleck of moonbeam
bounces off my shoulder
and up into the oak tree outside my window
where the magpies tease
and taunt the city squirrels every morning
as I dry my hair and paint my face
for the beauty pagent, the war, the popularity contest

I think about how fickle our desires are
One minute thin thighs, the next freckles,
a gap between front teeth
or a balloon-like bottom to even out
the grapefruits we lug around in holsters on our chest
Is this the what they see in me?
random selections thrown together to work in unison

On the last twinkling star above, I wish for more
More than just appearance
More than just sex drive,
homeowner status, passport stamps or pairs of shoes
I wish for contentment with blue moonbeams, oak trees and magpies

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magic door

Remind me,
when you shut the door
behind you
for the last time,
that the best way to mend
this broken heart
is to stand in a far corner
and with precision and Buddhist-like
attention
clean the space.

There is no before, only now
and the random possibility of tomorrow.

fit to be tied

o, how I fought for it
my countless attempts
tangling these heartlines into maritime knots
o, and only after it ends
did those knots unveil the truth unexpected

it never fit at all

the voice, silent for all these years
defiant
in the face of my insistence to force
this four-cornered heart
into what the coroner would determine to be
a conventional round hole

Rundetårn 2

All the poems left to linger
on the shelf of my ancient closet.
Tucked beneath boxes of courage
are the coiled ribbons of misery, the pocketbooks of desire, and a wardrobe
jammed to the edge
with the gowns of women I’ll never be.
Crinolen, lace, tulle; a blue garter for luck.

I stand, looking forward. Look behind.

Is this the end of the fairy tale or my first shaky, barefooted steps home?

road to...

Mea culpa!

Lo, though I am neglectful of the blogs and the Flickr, though I am moody and fragile, though I am tired and let my fear get the better of me some days.

But I am here.

I am showing up and putting one foot in front of the other. And looking back, I’ve made a long time friend in the road I’ve tread.

Solvitur ambulando.

the lost one

Sometimes I snack on dry cereal when I’m in bed…

I got out of the shower the other morning to find the following note and ‘O’.

The note reads: woe is me, for I am lonely cheerio. left behind by my brethren, I have spent the night underneath a woman who knew not that I was here! what is my fate? I wonder.

Almost better than the love notes I usually get. ❤

tangled webs

You are not an island, and you’re not supposed to be.

reach me

Love.

This curious thing I thought I once understood, once felt. And realize now I know nothing about. And probably will never piece together. What is attraction? Why does the way you smile melt me and the way your tears fall dissolve me?

Love is the ultimate oxymoron. It strengthens you by making you softer. It teaches you by unveiling your ignorance. It grows resolute in the moments closest to its failing.

I imagine I will never understand you love, but I’m sure glad you stopped by and I hope you stick around.

open sesame

Did Alice know what she was in for when she opened the door?

I certainly didn’t.
Yet, underneath my panic, my ancient tears, my neuroses, lies a woman stilled by the fact that everything is perfect and the world is beautiful.

And the world is beautiful.

spring's finest

To this endless want
Rest, child.

Please.

You’re being ridiculous.

To the toughness I create that saws against the kindnesses of the day
Melt, child.

To the lies that pour forth from my lips when I am not looking
Breathe, child.

To thy heart that holds what is beautiful and crumbled in sorrow
Rest, child.

Today has come and done what it needed to do
Tomorrow you will start again.