Note to Self (and Grace)
____

the simplest bottom line that tops off,
a writ that begins and ends
with its title of
perfect clarity.  

in my brief unremarkable existential passage
the enemy within needs our greatest concentration,
the floods, the pretty ravages, that come unannounced,
from outside creeping in
time-slow and life-sudden,
can't do much about

but the friendly enemies residing in the places hiding
where we have'em close kept, so handy for an instant
royal summons,
thems the apples poisoned we got to worry about,
the ones we grew from a tree planted from seeds in a package that came with a friendly note from the
Surgeon General saying,
"burn the contents of this container,
you'll never finish paying if you let them get planted,"

and yes,
it is 1:54am wide awake and still dying slow
a bit daily,
laughing that I entered myself in a race crazy,
where I am a
a guaranteed loser

so we end where we were born,
let it go.
survive, the (dis)order of the day
and it is
2:10am on just another Thursday,
that will end in the accord
of its own discord

<£>

2:14am

"just one phone call from our knees."
Matt Kearney

The way is long on winding trails
of bitter weeds and daffodils
through goldenrod and thistles sharp
with Devil's song and Angel's harp
on accompaniment by day,
and haunting through
the night.

Alone I travel 'til the day
Her tender voice will I hear say
Let bitter weeds and thistles sharp
and Devil's song perish with the dark
for forever more, hand in hand,
we'll travel in the light.

Lazy is this warm spring day
and kind of slow
Wrapped in ribbons of sunshine
My unicorn and I
we travel down a hidden path
where streams of love flow
and when we arrive
a handsome prince, O'
with his sweet unicorn, too
and his body language says
he's feeling kind of low
So I give him a sweet smile
and then politely say
"come chat with me for awhile,
before life calls you away
and you must quickly go"

sunk into my seat
melting in the ground
the wish that makes
you fear yourself
I lack the self respect
to control and contain
a section of insanity
seeping through my veins
fearing, sinking, falling, patience

Catch me with tenderness
Hold me hold me hold me
Till the moon kissing the blue
O slapping my heart with joy

Curse me o curse me tonight
Cursing my flesh o sweet butterfly
A poetic device calming the heart
Bombardment of roses roses

The majestic inner beauty
Will it rain tonight in the garden
Will laughter visiting the moon
Will the ocean sing a loving song

Written by
Jean C Bertrand

Clinging to what's left,
The debris of us,
Floats down the calmed delta mouth,
A night of turbulent storms,
Has laid waste to our ship, "Golden Heart,"
Mighty was she, but no match,
For the storm of lies that welled up,
The waves carelessly consumed us whole,
You steered us right into the storm,
Instead of running you faced it head on,
Ramon, a formidable captain with the best of intentions,
Chose poorly that night,
Yes, he'd sailed that course a-plenty,
Assuming we could skip port and rest...
But this night was different,
The air was abnormally still,
I questioned the Captain's choices,
I too had sailed these waters,
I'd seen these types of clouds before,
I'd smelled this still and seemingly calm air,
A maelstrom of despair, doubt, and, anger
Violently rocked her,
We couldn't keep the sails,
The mast snapped like a twig,
We were at the black water's mercy now,
Two beloved crew members float lifelessly face down
Their skin, pale and bruised from the rocks,
Which tore into the ship's bow,
The black water, now satiated,
Basks in the afterglow of our destruction,
The warm golden sun rise brings no comfort,
It illuminates the debris of us, laughing in our faces,
The ship is gone,
We managed to lash together a few jagged pieces of love-red deck,
She was beautiful, a pain to navigate, but beautiful nonetheless,
All that's left of her are us,
Clinging to each other with calloused hands,
Cold, damp, exhausted, and bitter,
A waterfall is up ahead,
Nothing but a few pieces of rope and broken wood,
Stand between us and the jagged rocks below...

I was a poet, a healer and a woman
once
a dreamable woman
who got behind his eyes

I learned about flying
too

I still dream about flying

so ****** pragmatic these days

Afraid to write

Afraid to fly

He said my wings
really stoked the fire
once

And now I remember
why I am afraid to fly