the days of death are upon us
the death days are upon us the time of mourning is at hand some pour out words of celebration for those who go ahead others, like me, cannot i’ve always been selfish that way mentally robbing you of your crown, your throne your eternal salvation for my grief and my ever shifting uncertainty but grief does not care for limitations. of all who shaped my present from the past you were the one i never imagined you were omnipresent always were always am always will be even when absent you weren’t far. fifteen years nearly half my lifetime how do you say everything that needs to be said yet needs to be silenced? aquarius…
Anonymous No More
I damn near forgot it was today when I got the text message from Mike asking if we could celebrate over dinner. Oh yeah. Six years sober today. Each year, I try to reflect on my life before and my life after giving up alcohol. Well, that’s not entirely accurate. I didn’t give up alcohol so much as it gave up me. It more closely resembled a painful, abusive breakup, complete with throwing lamps at windows and then me calling at midnight, begging it to take me back. A relationship like that either kills you, or you somehow manage to walk away and piece back together the shards of your life…
Paradox
Waves kiss the shoreline, Shameless in their affection, Rushing to embrace. Often they batter lovers One grain of sand at a time.
When in the black
When in the black I find respite from care The kind that pours bland nothingness to brim O’erflows the bonds up which we strung in prayer Our arms outstretched to slice through fraying limb Out on periphery of madness share Sweet palm to palm in contact round we rim While deep in black I dwell; confined by mine own snare Although not my design, no blame seems clear All fight of mine now sets upon the bier.
Song of the Times
We steam clean our rage until what was once human becomes tepid We are not the only ones who are frail Yet we proceed as if none matter more Cataclysms hail towards the times We have created for ourselves. I’ll meet you in the fire. I’ll dive into the flood. I’ll dig you space in the avalanche. I’ll save your pint of this blood. – – – Villages where walls crumble and nature reclaims her place supreme We made a mess and refuse to wipe it clean But what remains remains to be seen Though not the same as before We are seeing the power of the invisible Drawn to the ancients Pushed from the present Saved from…
Epigram for the Most Wretched of Creatures
My cat looks at me with such indiff’rence I almost can’t abide Yet turns on the charm and nuzzles my arm when she wants to go outside Why oh why do I live at her command to serve and my pride debase? When it’s terribly clear when I’m itching her ear she’s just waiting to scratch off my face?
Fiction: From Now On
The boops and beeps sliced through the fog rolling across the lake, which was so still her reflection stared back at her without wavering. How long had she been sitting here? She blinked, swiveling her head in slow motion. Gray nothing spread out before her in large swaths, the mist obscuring all that surrounded her, yet she felt like she occupied a pinprick of yawning space. After some time (Minutes? Hours?), she looked down and saw that she was in a rowboat, oars mysteriously absent. This did not upset her. She didn’t even bob side to side, the water like glass that might break if she threw a rock at it, if she had…
Venetian Light
Twilight last night found me doing something out of the norm. Usually I’d be on my butt watching The Wire and eating an indifferent dinner around this time, but after work my husband changed out of his business casual and headed out to the garage. His industriousness put me to shame, as all I wanted to do in the week since we returned from Italy was nap, read novels, and try to locate ice cream that tasted a quarter as good as Italian gelato. Following him outside, I half-heartedly offered to help with whatever home improvement project he was currently tinkering with. He had formulated a plan for working on our love-worn…
Take Us to the Snow
When I was five years old, my dad promised to take me and my sister to the snow. We lived in a suburb of Los Angeles, and the idea of snow was as foreign to me as the idea that people lived anywhere but California; I knew it in the abstract, but when I tried to solidify it in my imagination, it dissolved like so much mist. The memory of my dad promising to take me to the snow is one so old that I don’t actually remember it anymore; it has been repeated so often over the years that it has the cemented certainty that oral tradition imbues a story. Long…
A Meeting | Fiction
The first thing I saw upon entering the inn was the tabby perched on the same table as the ale jugs, pink tongue curling between the toes of its hind paw. Sleek fur gave away its position of a cat specifically kept for the elimination of vermin in the home, and it did not seem to care about anyone or anything else, as cats are wont. Its shadow hung distended behind it, like a curtain hiding secrets from the world. Who knew what dark alleyways it slunk through while away from home, what it hunted. The room seemed emptier than usual, its occupants preoccupied with matters other than those strictly reflected in the surroundings.…
