(An excerpt)

 ...but alas  I am for now,

      no  teetotaler, 

I’m a drunk for 

                soul and romance,

And the Chemist’s sun drop elixir,

                                 -even if it’s always cloudy,

          the fog lifts now and then 

to spill daylight upon 

     my dreams

             and make them real. 

This job

This job is…

Being pulled in thirty directions at once.
Responding in a way that validates, while also holding ground.
Grounding. Holding. Pushing it back on them.
There is a mindfulness that must be maintained,
an appreciation for the flow, and the gifts,
to get through each rift, breach and repair.


And yet, there is a steadiness that must exist,
a structure, a brace,
and also, a constant wobble -to embrace the ever-changing circumstances.


There is a preparedness,
a resolve,
that at times, will be faked.
And the shakiness beneath,
will be breathed into -though never quite concluded.


A deep sigh, a belly laugh, an un-consolable wail,
The sounds of release, in their myriad forms,
Tummy grumbles, guttural growls,

And the snarkiest, oh,
prepare to be bowled over by the charging sarcastic defense


The places the mind goes,
It will be interesting,
One must stay curious, and focus on sifting
-knowing full well anything important will return.


It takes belief,
A knowing that the cognitive dissonance is necessary,
that from the gray unknown, magic can appear,
a faith in the heart’s ability to break and expand,
to burst forth from the old shell,
and renew from a truer self.

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I have been editing this for a few days, but lost steam... so this may or may not be the last incarnation. 

Vessels of Love

When we met, you were an intricately blown glass vase, bright orange, yellow, red, and rich blue pulled through the crystal. Handles, wound corners, fragile at a glance, but solid to touch. You poured out a half dozen directions, a roman fountain, sustained by unseen aqueducts, life giving, and pure.  

When we became friends, a punchbowl, delicately adorned with images: secretive, tantalizing, deceitful and delicious. You ladled out knowledge and treasures. At times marveling at your ability to gift, nourish and enchant, but grumbling all the while as others pulled into their own cups. 

When we coupled, a colander, deep welled to conceal the cavities. Unaware of what was being poured in, covertly and singly focused on watching it spill out everywhere. Neither the syrup of security, nor the bold zest of love, remained to entice or refresh. 

When we finished, a shallow plate, rimmed in gold, and ornamented with tiny gargoyles. Sleekly finished and slippery, so that every offering would not tarnish or remain. A porcelain wall, a museum piece, cold and non-functional, leaving the bitter ache of what could have been.