She whispered to her husband with a little unease
They want to remove these but without them I might no longer be able to please...

Let them take them!
You're not just your *******,
You're not just your beautiful eyes
I wouldn't care if you'd been plucked blind!
You're not just a pair of luscious legs
that hold up that beautiful peach of an ****
You're the very air that I breathe
and every beat of my heart
I don't care if you don't have a thing on your chest
I only care, that without you near
I would follow you into eternal rest
Please let them take them
I'm not interested in anything
that doesn't have you to support them

His gaze started at her pretty pink toenails and travelled leisurely up her calves, his hands followed his eyes, to her knees and paused halfway up.
His hands skimmed her rounded belly where their three children began their life then traced her tiger scars onto her rib cage but his eyes were on hers, glittering like stars.
He ghosted up her torso and rested a trembling hand on her pulse
He whispered gently, against her lips

*This is what I want to feel the most!

I wake to his whistling
On the couch in the den
His mug full of black coffee
Now empty, he'll get up to fill it again

My grandfather is constant
He has never walked out on me
He has taught me that nonsense
Lies within the person who flees

I have watched him slow with age
His bones have grown weak and frail
I know that he sheds tears offstage
When he looks back on the trials of his tale

My grandfather is water
He flows and ebbs, traveling from place to place
But he has had three otters
To keep him company... just in case

He is a constant imperfect man
Who loves motorcycles and sweets
He's too laid-back to have a plan
But shows up early when we meet

I lie awake and I know he does the same
Staring at the ceiling is one thing we share in common
Sleep has always been like a waiting game
He wishes he could close his eyes more often

My grandfather is constant water
He is changeless and tranquil
I am certain that his love has made me stronger
Even when it appears to be casual

My Girl,
My Melody,
I love you!

I know I tell you regularly,
But being here with you
Reminds me how precious
You are.

Time is growing down;
I cannot get enough
Time with you....

We are not in Corozal
For waves and sun,
For lying out beneath a tropic sky.
Instead I see you sitting on a stool
Reading stories to children,
Sans makeup, sans decoration,
Sweat beads your forehead  
As you puff a ringlet
Of hair from your eyes
While beautiful children,
Mesmerized,
Enjoy your reading.

You have flown so far to be
A teacher and a friend
To others whom you've never known,
To forego the safety of our home,
To listen to the children,
Though we have our own...

So, I am watching you with different eyes,
Seeing inward beauty outward shine...
Praise God above that you are mine.

"It happened eight months ago. You should be okay by now. It isn't an excuse." I'm told after admitting I don't have the drive to really do anything anymore. I really wasn't trying to use it as an excuse.

Today I was going for a run,
It was beautiful out. The sun was hitting the trees in such a way that I would never be able to capture fully with a camera.
I had just gotten back from a family party.

I was thinking about it, who I saw, what went on, something was missing, someone was missing, suddenly I was not running anymore.

I was crying. I was hunched over trying to compose myself. I began to panic.

The words from his note, "I'm sorry" flashed in my head like police lights. What could I have done? I asked. There was nothing you could do. I told myself.

Each realization hit me like a bullet. Memories flooded into my mind. Just short beautiful moments.

I tried to push them back so desperately. I want to save them. I do not want to wear them out to the point where one day I will not be able to remember the crinkled eyed smile I loved so much.

I tried to catch my breath. It was no use. I couldn't.

I haven't been able to since September. I don't feel like I will ever be able to.

Almost eight months ago my grandfather took his own life and I'm told I should be okay. I'm told I should be able to go about my life normally.

"Okay." I respond.

I may not the best daughter.
But you will always be the best Father.
Yes, I've been slapped, left and right.
But I know I deserved that.
And I'm thankful you do that,
So I will realize how wrong I was.
I always promise to do good
But I also broke that promise,
Cause every time I swear
Later on I'll do the same mistake again.
I tend to do bad things repeatedly.
Yet you forgive me no matter how worst it is.
I didn't love you truthfully,
But you and your love embraces me.
If it isn't because of your love I maybe in hell now,
Screaming in pain endlessly.
You promise to save me and go everywhere I go.
And you never fail to do that.
I cried becasuse of how happy I am,
To know that there's someone who's willing to die for me.
You gave me everything but I can't give you even a single thing.
I was so self-centered, I was so selfish.
But that was before.
It's true that you can't change yourself,
Unless you ask for God's help and guidance.
It is not only me who make accomplishments,
But it is also the Holy Spirit you sends me.
I admit that I can't keep promises
So I ask for your patience,
To always look for me.
I know you do and will always.
Thank you for making me happy.
I only need you in my life.
Cause for when I'm with you,
It was always beyond perfect.

My mother taught me
How to clean clothes
How to iron
How to fold

She showed me
How to clean the stains

I wish she would have
Showed me
How to take away
The stains made by you

The rips
The tears
The scars
And the blemishes made

In my memory
All because of you

I'm not.

My Dad thinks I should
be out burning bras
showing off unshaved legs
parading through the streets "like the gays."

I do not.

I remember talking in highscool
about my imaginary rich husband,
and never working again.

                                                My Dad does not.

He remembers panicking in hischool
telling me not to be a cheerleader
asking "why can't girls play on he football team?"

                                  My Dad does not realize,

I don't want to burn my
Victoria's Secret push up bra,
I want to shave my legs.

My dad thinks
the only person who
can decide whether
or not
to keep a baby
is a woman.

I do not.

A baby-life
is created by a
man and a woman.

It should take a
man and a woman to decide.

                               My Dad does not realize it,

He thinks I am a product of
the patriarchy,
a victim to the crime.

but,

I don't want to
march down the streets of Boston,
****.

Because I know some women,
cry **** when its a lie.

I know some men,
who cant cry
for help,
because **** is a woman's issue.

                    My Dad does not realize it hurts,

because
I am not a feminist,
I am an equalist.

I believe in
mutual respect,
choice,
balance.

Stay at home moms
and
Stay at home dads.

   My dad does not realize it hurts the cause to be a "feminist"

My dad is a feminist,
I am not.

A coat poses on a peg … waiting;
The newspaper lies beside the chair;
A hammer on a nail is hanging,
The sad-eyed dog, jowls sagging on his paws;
Looks tired, but does not yawn.
Chores waiting at the barn….

A caller rings to ask to speak to Art.

Any evidence that he is gone can bring
A flood of memories and tears,
Fitting response, I think, as part of noting
That cleaning up is difficult this spring.
No hurry now, to set the whole world straight;
We’ll get to work, or work can wait.
Dad is away - won’t be back, early or late.

I am, this morning, haunted by my father’s ghost.
If you would ask me now what’s sore,
I’ll tell you my heart hurts most
To see his worn old boots waiting by the door.

(April 6, 2012, DB)

Accidents happen in the Spring.
Babies are born from left-over
Autumn bonfires,
Never properly extinguished.
The sun should shine for an extra hour
So I can finish “The Burial of the Dead.”
Small dogs can escape out doors
Opened for a breath of fresh Spring air.
If there had been a screen on the door...
If it had been a cat...
If it had been raining...
If the sun had set sooner...
If the stranger had been kinder...
Would April accidents happen?
Instead, a sad woman cries,
Ah, nao. Agrander a Deus.
Nao por favor. Mitzi.

We can't plan for mistakes.
We call them accidents.

Do you see that old man
filthy and wrinkled on the street
he's a statue where the feet often steps
and yet his soul never did leave

Do you see that young lady
Pained and teared in her heart
sitting by the lonely bench
her eyes teary, staring at the sun

Have you seen that small child
cold and starved by his fate
drinking water despite its filthiness
smiling despite the cruelty of the world

How many unspoken words are there
roaming around in the thin air
knowing how large the world is
Yet the love is so small, so rare

Knowing how heartless people can be
knowing that their beloved ones left
and yet they wore shades of smile
With their unspoken words behind everything else