there’ll always be chaos inside of my life
I’m just being honest, I’m speaking my plight
I know that my body has suffered a lot
and my mental health tries to stick to the plot

the truth is, I’m broken in ways you don’t know
in languages foreign and places you’ll go
but I’ve seen the people, I’ve heard what they say
and made it a point that I won’t live that way

that chaos is painful, I already know
I’ll pick up my feet and I’ll go it alone
and if it gets heavy, I’ll let it all out
I’ll go back to nothing, and build me a house

Green is the color of the steps in shangril-a ,
The hue of peace in a troubled mind ..
The carpet of the valley floor and the rugged-
divide ..
The weeping willows of childhood fantasy
Tall grass bordering the waterway ,
Definitions along the walkways that lead me home ...

I remember it, you
not so much. No. 10 staples,
unused, I’ve brought them.
The store is still there. You said,
regularly, you didn’t want
to sell stationery your whole life.
Pencils end up lost, pens run out,
like a lot of things. The inevitability
of it smacks you like a migraine, I got it.

Soon we became stapled, painlessly,
together. The mossy green jumper,
mine, you wore it. Your knitted-by-grandmother
scarf, sunflowers, I wore
sometimes. Routines we made
ourselves, the right shade of tea,
word puzzles before bed.
All falling into place, a quiet click,
seamless.

Then, restless. Fidgety. A classic
different directions situation. Thankfully,
amicable. Just as seamlessly, clicked
apart. Now here, the staples, leftover
silvered remnants. Still boxed. Use them?
I could, but couldn’t. What was reduced
to stationery. Runs out like a lot of things.
Inevitable, I guess, I got it.

The novelty of this is
exquisite.
In my adult life, I've never gone this long without allowing another human to touch me.
A new concept
the next time it happens, it will mean something.

When a black sheet has been
thrown over the moon
and a million lazy stars
have fallen from view
I hear the wind has
grown tired of traveling
I hear the sound of mandolins
crying in the mountains
I hear the rattle of
gypsy wheels
I hear the heavy hearts
of horses upon the
restless roads of
broken poetry ...
Clay.M

She was an old barn cat, around the place for
a dozen years or more. Superb mouser and
yard hunter. Came from feral parents, aloof
by nature, and breeding, a little wild at heart
I suppose.  In time she developed some slight
affection for some of my family, me included,
eventually a regular welcomed visitor to my
porch, even crawling upon my lap for pat and
scratch under her chin but always declining to
be held by any human being.

She would come when I called her, running
full tilt and jumping fences, ignoring the food
just wanting companionship and attention.
Over the years she and I became good friends.
She came every day, morning and evening to say
hello and oh yes, get an offered meal. Rubbing
her sleek cat body on my feet and legs, offering
up her affection with an audible purring for
everyone to hear even from some distance.

Her age was starting to show, thinner, slower, she
was getting on just as I am, perhaps we both knew
it. Last night she came to the glass door and looked
so forlorn. Though cold outside I put on a coat and
brought her out some food, and I sat in my chair.

She sniffed the food with disinterest then came
over to flop upon my feet softly meowing, I could
feel her little purr motor vibrating on my shoes.
I reached down and gave her a tummy scratch,
she always loved that.

We resided like that for a while, her upon my feet,
me in my chair. Becoming too cold I started to rise
to go back inside, but Daisy did not move, I reached
down and felt no purr vibration, she was unmoving
and silent. In that moment I knew that she had passed
from this earth. I picked up her now limp unresisting
body and placed her on my lap, my eyes teared knowing
that she was gone.

So sudden, one minute there and then just gone.
Not a bad way to go, rather than some long-drawn
-out affair, with doctors, useless operations, hospice
and lingering formidable pain. Just lay down and
go to sleep.

We should all be that lucky when our time comes.

i can’t teach you to
love yourself,
but i wish i could
teach you to see
yourself the way i
see you. if you could
see the way you glow,
feel the radiance of
your heart when you
enter a room. you
would never question
it, never question it.