I am headed for a heart attack,
tension and stress are
pressing against my chest.

My voice is garbled
and I am unable to
adequately express
those repressed
truths.

Wake up to early
get my food and cloths ready
then rush out the door
before I can catch
my morning breath,
and take an hour-long drive.

I hit the gym
keep on pushing
trying to accomplish
a goal that
doesn’t really matter one bit.
Who really cares
if I get super fit?

Get to work,
knock out
an eight-hour shift
while I eat
walk,
read,
think,
write,
and draw.

Then hit repeat
on the cd player
of my groundhog’s day life.

the same red spots obstruct my vision,
the music fades from my ears.

the image of your burning brown eyes
stay locked in my mind.

it feels like i am slowly sinking,
sinking into a shallow tub of cloudy water.

my eyes feel like they are about to pop,
i unwrap the cord from my neck.

take a breath of sour air,
and start again.

There used to be
soft wet sand
beneath my feet
and in-between
my wriggling toes.

There used to be
teenagers
and a little me
going swimming.

Adolescents
played in
swim suits
as their bare skin
took the nibblings
of tiny fishes
that never bit me.

There used to be
a brown shack
of a building
with plastic seats
where wet buts
would wiggle
and squeak
as I got
something to eat.

We would all play
while grandparents
sat, talk,
and sometimes watched
the Lawrence Welk show.

Now that bed of water
is no longer wet.
Now it is a dusty bowl
of forgetful sorrow.

The very end of August
Brings a stillness in the night,
When the many trills of midsummer
Are silenced and the fireflies gone out!
Lying stilly and listening, I hear
A solemn drone, like an old contralto,
Trying to warble but instead
Radiating an insistent hum
That thrums athwart the arid air,
Long fingers scraping a humming tanpura.
Even the full moon is dry,
Gazing down, matter-of-fact,
Through the dust-like mist.
Summer has given up,
Letting leaves and vines dry up,
Tinged with red and shriveled bronze.
I could walk in the garden now,
And not worry about slugs on
The dried stalks of lilies.
The robust asters offer little
Temptation to garden  pests
And strapping thistles seem to stand guard.
Is the balance between my will
Over the garden and its desire
To overflow and bloom beyond me,
Now achieved yet unwanted?
Yes…I prefer the lushness that comes
After the rains, with an untamed riot
Of color and green, the celebration
That happens on its own, heedless
Of my wishes; yet I revel in it
Every time it wins
And will wait a year
For this to emerge again.

it hurts
a sharp jabbing
pain in my
lower side
just above my
stomach

i only feel it
when i start
to think
too hard

it often aches
throughout the day
snakes downward and wraps
itself around my legs
squeezes my muscles
so tight i can’t sleep

the pain
screams
that i am not
good enough
that i never
have been and
never will be
good enough

there are purple
bags under my eyes
i keep them full
at all times

full of
what?

full of
words

words like
“no”
“can’t”
“want”
“practical”
“best”
“should”
“plan”

heav­y
words
that pull my
head down

so that i focus
on the floor
my own feet
and the thick
vine winding
up from the
ground trying
to choke me out

lately every
step has been hard
trying to pull
the roots up
so i can begin
to move forward

it’s slow
and the pain
and the words
make it slower

and i am tired
so tired
all i want is to
stop moving
just for a
bit to rest

afraid of
what i know
about myself
and how if i
pause and
slow down

my body will
come to a
complete halt
and more of those
dead weight words
might tumble out

words like
“wrong”
“want”
“work”
“will”
“can”
“happy”
“no”

until i am buried
under an avalanche
of double negatives
and wishful thinking

and still the pain
keeps on throbbing
as i keep swallowing
down my toxic words

Perhaps,
I held to many
expectations.

Is it right
to expect
a mother
to have patience,

To not lash out,
to truly think about
the hearts of
their child’s aspirations.

These are my specters
visitations
of previous incarnations
of pain.

Perhaps,
I should not
hold high
the standard
of acceptance
and appreciation.

That was not her job.
She did do her job,
maybe not
as the perfect
maternal figure,
but she was a provider,

Perhaps,
that is all
that I can truly ask of her,
my mother.

I know what’s right and
I know what’s wrong
And ponder the in-between

You can answer yes
You can answer no
Or you can say “I don’t know”

Left turn ahead?
Take the next right?
Or steer straight through?

“For me or against me” is
Always false dichotomy
Be true to both me and you

When I say I love you what I mean is
I love you in a way that means
here is my love
take as much or as little as you need

whenever you need it
whenever you need it

and here this is my heart
but it is more than that now
it is yours now too

you can hold it in your hands
you can feed it to yours
you can hang it in the sky
you can put it on a shelf  
        and let it gather dust
you can press it between
           the pages of a book
you can stomp on it
you can break it
you can toss it away
      and laugh if you want

it’s ok
  it’s yours
it’s ok
  it’s yours

because I love you
and what I mean is that
when you need comfort
I will give you whatever
   comfort I can
when you feel ill or sick
I will take care of you
in whatever way you need
when you need someone
   to make you smile
I want to to do my best
   to give you a reason to smile
and when you don’t feel like smiling
I want to understand
    and weather the storm with you

when you are cold
I want to be warmth
when you are hunger
I want to be food
when you are lost
I want to be the road home

because when I say I love you
I love you doesn’t mean
I need you to be mine
and I need to be yours

it means here you made this
you gave me this feeling
and it is beautiful
and I am in your debt
and I give it back to you
not expecting
or needing anything in return

I am here
even if here isn’t by your side
you don’t need to love me back
the same way I love you

and if here isn’t a place
you want me to be
I will go wherever
you want me to go
if its hell
I will go to hell for you

and still if you need a little
or all or none of my love
it’s yours

take whatever you need
whenever you need it

it’s yours
   it’s yours