Once I wrote
L’espoir, toujours l’espoir
Always have hope.

Now, I’m much less sure

Tomorrow you will discover worry
Tomorrow you will embrace despair
Tomorrow you will feel remorse
Tomorrow you will taste sadness
Tomorrow you will enter the world
Happy Birthday.

I remember screamed profanities
I remember slammed doors and cupboards
I remember walking on eggshells, slipping silently around the house, not flushing the toilet - hoping to remain unnoticed.
I remember strained car rides and feigned happiness - for the relatives' sake.
I remember the blessed gift of headphones - that drowned out the rage and replaced it with joyful music.

I remember hiding behind schoolwork
I remember 5:00 AM Saturdays, doing yardwork, to keep the peace.
I remember racing through dinners, eyes down
Being done before being done

I remember strained birthdays
Unappreciated gifts
Forced gratitude

I remember graduating
Boarding a plane
And never really going back.

The woman known as Mom hummed contentedly.
The kitchen smelled delicious.
Eggs, toast, juice and what was that, pork chops?
For Breakfast?
An unexpected, delightful treat.

Unaccustomed to cheer, the children entered cautiously.
Looking toward the wall
They saw the hook.
But the belt
The wide leather belt
Was missing

Was that good or bad?

The children took their seats.
The woman known as Mom
Slid their plates into place and urged them to "Eat Up"
Lest their delicious meal get cold.

One careful bite.
A swallow.
Pause....Pause....Pause
No slaps. No hits. No belt.
The children gobbled furiously
Racing to finish
Before she changed her mind.

When He saw famine,
He fed them
When He saw plague
He healed them
When He was reviled, persecuted
betrayed, scourged, broken,
impaled and crucified.
He blessed them.
When He bled,
He sanctified them
When He embraced the sins of a wicked world,
He redeemed them

Mental health
Is my favorite
Oxymoron

Jumbo shrimp
Is next…

A rivulet penetrates the surface,
sustaining a desiccating thing.

A slanted ray
awakens a dormant seed.

A dropped morsel
nourishes a starving creature.

None is significant

Each is
A whispered hope

The Killer's unblinking eyes gazed,
awaiting my next move.

The victim, still warm,
lay just there.

Choking back sadness,
I looked back.

No guilt
no remorse to be found.
A pure predator.

And I learned
You can't extract sorrow
from a cat.

Blood
Sticky
Warm
Leaking

Amaline
smells of
***** and rot.
Ill-fitting clothes stained
from weeks,
or months,
or years
of neglect.

In weeks
or months
or years,
Gangrene claimed four of her pickle green toes.
Eight ragged teeth hang lazily from
Abscessed gums
Leaking sticky pus;
Her putrid breath heavy with bacteria and decay.

Last week or month
an old rooster
pecked
her eye.
As she slept.
A choice morsel for
the rat waiting in the dark.

It rained that day
Or the next.

No one noticed that morning or night
a week or a month or a year ago,
when she dragged the broken bottle
across her wrists.

Her family stopped caring long ago
And so did she.

Staring, Glaring, Unblinking
They are familiar and terrifying

A lost love scratching her way
back to material existence...

A fallen friend seeking etherial
companionship...

A family member longing
For the comforts of home...

An ancient foe
Exacting revenge with nightly torment...

A wispy passerby
Simply attracted to the lamp's glow...

Or is it Death peeking in
Checking on the doneness of this life.

Amputate
His leg
She said so calmly
I thought
Yours first

Empty.
His life
His spirit
His future
Empty.
He undertook redemption at 9:44 PM
The world would forgive a sin that made it a better place.

Yes, and put that away.
Not the good ones, the others.
In the closet. Those go in the garage.
I don't care - anywhere but the family room.
5 minutes.
Because we must arrange humility to......

hide our vanity.

I'm from hate and discontent,
from words so caustic that they burn after 35, 40, 45, 50 years.
I'm from nowhere and everywhere,
I'm from nine schools and fourteen houses.

I'm from "You'll make new friends,"
and "Quit crying, we didn't live there that long."
To the KFC Christmas and "They're too old for a tree anyway."

I'm from slammed doors, and curse words and silent treatments.
I'm from high expectations, icy glares, straight A's, and disappointment.
I'm from 800 miles of claustrophobic silence in the family car and 18 years with no vacations.

AND

I'm from lazy days at the family farm
and hard-*** work a few years later.
I'm from rides on the tractor with Grandpa,
and watching the illegal sabong... with the sheriff.

I'm from Uncle Martin and Mary Lou,
and the tiny apartment with the swimming pool.
I'm from the mean man in number 9 screaming at us to be quiet
and Uncle Martin telling him to, "Shut the Hell Up!"

I'm from David and Richard, my cousins, my brothers
I'm from poison oak adventures at the creek
and countless days at the beach

AND

I'm from Gentile and Jew,
From Asian and White,
From Catholic and ****.

I'm from St. Patrick's, the old church.
I'm from stained glass and wooden kneelers,
incense, and Latin Mass.
I'm from Ego te absolvo and Dominus Vobiscum

I'm from tradition and sanctity,
dignity and peace.

I'm from Hellfire and Brimstone
Screaming, Bible pounding preachermen who are slain in the Spirit,
babble in tongues, and exhort the congregation to be "Washed in the Blood of the Lamb".

AND

I'm from love and loss,
and love again

I'm from Lisa, and Donna, and Carole,
the girls who were far too pretty to have been my friends (but were)
I'm from Jaki who wrote me letters letters every two days
and sometimes more,
and Laurie
and Kelly.

I'm from Cardinal and Gold
from Conquest and Traveler,
from the dorm and the Row.

I'm from 90,000 screaming idiots,
I'm from Greek Week and road trips,
and long nights in the reference section.
I'm from typewriters, card catalogs, and white out.

AND

I'm from gritty men and terrible places.
I'm from peace, and war, and peace, and war again.
And peace - with war thundering in the distance.

I'm from the cold wet ground on cold wet nights,
and I'm from blisters upon blisters; blood and water.

I'm from the Blacksheep, the Alphabots, and the Ranger Creed.
I'm from the M-249, the 203, and the A-2.
I'm from Colt, not Beretta; that's the M-1911,
and I'm proudly from jungle fatigues and black berets.

AND

I'm from a fateful encounter on a random night
an order of pizza and beer that would change our lives
Days together and weeks apart
Time didn't matter
She'd captured my heart.

I'm from loyalty and faith,
Trust and honor.
I'm from a small ceremony,
nothing to big or too fancy,
and groomsmen carrying guns, pagers, and foreign passports.

I'm from odd jobs and uncertainty and graduate school
I'm from UPS and PKP, and Summa *** Laude,
MISD, WM, and the birth of Anthony.

I'm from safety patrol and tug-of-war,
Accelerated math, now Maria's born.

I'm from the Blonde Mafia, the Bumblebees,
the Shopping Girls, and the Ubermensch.
From 14, and F, and back to 14, and 15.
Principals Emerson, Anthony, Blix, and Mellish.

AND

I'm from the Middle School
and teaching only math until
I'm teaching math and tech until
I'm teaching math and tech and study skills until
I'm teaching tech and study skills and more tech until
I'm teaching tech and study skills and media and Spanish until
I'm teaching tech, tech, tech, media, and Spanish with
Principals Miller and Budzius and Lucas and Stone

I'm from the animé girls and the theater crew
From the gamers and poets and dreamers
From the introverts and hackers, autistic kids and slackers
I'm from the kids who don't fit anywhere....
Neatly

(To be continued)

How does it feel
Malignant cells taking over your body?
How does it feel
knowing that you may have celebrated your final
birthday, Christmas, Fourth of July?
How does it feel
the uncertainty of what follows?
How does it feel
the chaos that you leave behind?
How does it feel
Departing this world without having
contributed to it?
How does it feel
to have existed
but not lived…

Home is where
You have a corner of the fridge just for your stuff

It’s where you hide your journal,
Where a fat cat makes your day better,
And where dessert CAN come before dinner

It’s where you skinned your knee
climbed a tree
and learned to make spaghetti

At home,
you’re not popular
or
unpopular
You’re just you.

It’s where you can be neat or sloppy
It’s where Mom lives
and Dad
doesn’t

Home is where you know the creaks in the floor
The code to the garage door
and where you can always go back for more

It’s a comfy couch
dishes in the sink
and warm socks from the dryer

Home is a familiar cocoon
That you must leave
to build your own

Someone recently wrote that ‘Love Has No Color’
I disagree:

Love is the deep blue of the ocean
It is the pink of my dog’s tongue
Love is the orchid colors of my daughter’s bedroom
And the blacks my son wears to theater

Love is mocha, pale, ebony, and tan
It is emerald, sapphire, chestnut, and jade
Love is honey and straw, pitch and caramel

Love is cherry blossom walks
It’s painted deserts
It’s shimmering skyscrapers
And the intense greens of triple canopy jungles

Love is the color of your first car
And your girlfriend’s prom dress

Love is stained glass
Bright green Christmas trees
And the Easter dresses
Of the church that you call home

Love is your alma mater’s jerseys
And NOT your rival’s
It’s shimmering fireworks with friends
And the long rays of the sun from a folding chair in the sand

Love is not without color
Love IS colors

Love... is colors

His eyes fix on a single line
A familiar signature
Screams from the page
The End

Of a marriage
of a family
of a 20 year love affair

And so he ran
Power coursing through
his
legs gasping
for air that
can't fill his
lungs fast
enough to out-
run his
demons

Mothering In Real Time

I don’t know how you do it,
Mothering in real time

Between Budget meetings and
Committee meetings and
Leadership meetings and
Board meetings and
Volunteer meetings and
Volunteer meetings and
Volunteer meetings…
You manage to
Listen and
Counsel and
Organize and
Discuss and
Attend and
Advise and
Be a friend to so many and
Most of all love…

Mothering in real time
Is what you do
And we would be lost without you

Two thousand hearts
supported you

Two thousand hearts
prayed for you

Two thousand hearts
wept for you

Now, two thousand hearts
look toward Heaven
and hope you're looking back

I left to find God
Instead I found you
Does Satan prove God?

Tradition says he’ll come today
With the wind,
In a ray of sunshine
On the arrival of a friendly bird

Was that creak his footfall in the hallway?
Was that warm breeze his breath upon my neck?
Is that his familiar scent or just my deep desire to have him here with me?

We’ll set out candles
Prepare his favorite foods
Bathe our home with love and light
Because today the children,
My child,
Returns from the grave

No tears will fall
No sad songs sung
No heads hung in despair,
No black limousines
Or flower wreaths
People just won’t care.

No poems read
or candles burned
No flags lowered halfway.
For everyone who’s still alive,
it’s just another day.

No flowered cards of sympathy
Or condolences to be shared,
No crying faces tagged on Instagram
Because no one really cares.

You'll leave this world as you came in
cold and all alone.
A pale, lifeless, skinbag
Filled with blood and guts and bones.

What do you think?

It had to end this way.
Sorry about the mess.

The metal floor is slicky
Desert heat amplifies
The odor of ***** and blood
Mostly empty IV bags hang on their stands
Packaging from numerous medical supplies
Litter the ground

Quickly and carefully I clean and spray and sweep and scrub
I sort and pack and refit and reorganize
Preparing the chopper for the next call

Lives were saved
But
I don’t know what will become of them
Some will leave the Army
Some will come back here
Some will do the job the enemy couldn’t do
And take their own lives

I can’t think about that
This is hard enough

On clear nights we can see you…
Twinkling, beautiful  
On clear nights we can feel…
your love and kindness.
On clear nights we can hear…
Your bubbly laughter and the lilt of your voice.
On clear nights we know you are with us,
because on clear nights we can see
all the way to Heaven.

In a moment, the news.
Until then, we'll turn to the nation's capitol and have a word with...
Condescending self-important motormouths
Narcissistic bloviating gas bags
Useless over-coiffed talking heads
Disingenuous glad-handing power seekers
Smarmy bootlicking Ivy League backstabbers
Government funded flatulating wind turbines
Spit shined Armani wearing handout seekers
Grudge holding influential bureaucratic petty tyrants
Overworked browbeaten ladder climbers
And, if we can find them, a few nonpolitical working Americans.

Sebastian quivered as he made his report.
Science - We did quiz. I 102 percent
History - We did read chapter. I finish first and wrote answers to questions. All correct.
English - We did grammar lesson. Adjectives. Describe words. No grading.
Sebastian hesitated, just slightly, and his father exploded.
Mathematics! Report Mathematics! Show Me!
Tears streaming. Hands trembling.
Sebastian removed the math papers from his tiny Hello Kitty backpack.
97 percent. Not perfect. Not the best in class.
The rest is unrepeatable.
Humiliation is much worse in Mandarin.

Today I do not mourn
The anniversary of your death
I will embrace the day with joy
Love and smile - fully alive

The anniversary of your death
It is difficult to see you
Love and smile - fully alive
Absent pain and bitterness

It is difficult to see you
I will embrace the day with joy
Absent pain and bitterness
Today I do not mourn.

Turning
Burning
Learning
Yearning
Blackhawk turning, HIT, cockpit burning
Troops learning of war, yearning for home

You're drunk dialing me again
And I listen to your story and then
I throw something on, walk over and knock on your door
I make us coffee and hang out till 4:00
Till you doze off asleep on the floor
I cover you up and head back home
And crawl back into bed all alone...

Cause I'm
Not thin enough
I don't show skin enough
I'm not cute enough to turn your friends' heads,
But...
I'm the sweetest girl you've ever known
That's why I'm in the friend zone

You ask me
Can I borrow 50 till I get paid next week?
Is your Netflix password still Happy Feet?
Does your car have any gas?
Don't that blonde have a fine....

And you know I'm
Not ***** enough
I don't sleep round enough
I'm not tatted up
I don't have thigh gap enough
To impress all the boys...
But I'm the sweetest girl you've ever known
That's why I'm in the friend zone

You said your girl left you for good
Packed up her sh*t, blocked your number, and moved
You cried in my arms, didn't know what to do...
I held you tight, kissed your hair and whispered, "I love you."

But I'm
Not cute enough
I don't have ***** 'nough
Or Botox enough
To catch a boy like you;
But I'm the sweetest girl you've ever known
That's why I'm in the friend zone

I pressed the call button one last time
You voice said, "Leave a message or text me at 9:00"
My words were simple and clear,
Because I wanted you to hear...

I am the best friend that you've ever known
What are you gonna do now that I'm gone?
You have to solve your problems all alone

I am leaving the friend zone...

Annie’s jagged features create an ominous shadow
Known locally as the kielbasa murderer,
She dispatched her victims with wretched exuberance.

She hunted them while they languished in public spaces
Masquerading as an angel of mercy, she offered food and drink,
Warm blankets, and kind, uplifting words.
False hope for those whose sustenance she had poisoned.

When her evil was complete
The dead were gently covered
A small shrine constructed
And a perfumed goodbye note placed nearby.

"Dear Beloved,
I could no longer bear your suffering
This last measure of comfort is given with all of my love
To assist your transition to a higher place.
With Radiant Peace,
Annie"

Annie helped more than 200 souls transition to a higher place
Then she disappeared.
Dead?
Imprisoned?
Or just moved on…

No one knows for sure.

When minor acts of defiance
are guilty pleasures,
You are not free

Thirty Four Years Ago

Today…

I scrambled from the back of a 5-ton Army truck and landed in a different universe

Before me stood men
Whose disdain for my existence was visceral

Though I had excelled in all of the tests required to arrive at this place – none of it mattered.

I hadn’t proven my worth to THEM.

And… until I did

I was nothing

Welcome to Day Zero

Have you seen me?
I’ve been missing since 2003

Darkness surrounds
It’s very cold
It’s 2015
or so I’m told

The walls are smooth
and chill to the touch
I don’t see the sun very much

The food I eat
is cold and stale
served to me
in a small metal pail

I hear the screams,
the whimpers, the cries.
Are there others like me
who are held nearby?

Or am I alone
in this unknown place
creating nightmares to fill
the unearthly space.

You missed my birthday
Again.

I prayed a million times
And still,
You didn't come.

How many has it been?
Eight or nine or maybe
twelve birthdays?

You've forgotten...

The yellow balloon
with the elephant.

Every year I blow it up
Hoping that it will bring me luck
Bring
You back.

But it doesn't

Bring either.

Sunrise
A light mist diffuses its rays
Rabbits lap at the morning dew
Eagles circle overhead

Morning
Kids walking to school
Rabbits flee to the bushes
Eagles circle overhead

Women in designer sneakers
Walk designer dogs
Dogs stare intently at the bushes
Eagles circle overhead

Students in PE uniforms
Run here and there
Yelling, chasing *****
Eagles circle overhead

Riding mower screams near bushes
Spraying grass and debris
Terrified rabbits flee the mower’s roar
Eagles plunge downward

Aerie rests upon outfield lightstand
Eaglets screech, mouths agape
Mother rips warm meat from a tiny carcass
Her children will live another day

Noon
Students sit here and there
Eating, laughing, smoking
They leave trash in their wake
The rats are lucky the eagles have eaten
The sky is bright blue overhead

Students in PE uniforms
Run here and there
Yelling, chasing *****
The sky is bright blue overhead

Kids walking home
Individually and in small groups
They ignore the trash
They do not see the rats
Puffy clouds float by overhead

An old Mexican man with a sad demeanor
Walks the field
He picks up the trash with gloved hands
The sun beats down upon his head

Boys in cleats occupy the field
Mouths full of seeds
Moving in choreographed actions
The sky is filled with grayish white spheres
For awhile

Dusk
The field’s lights blink on
Accompanied by a faint fluorescent hum
The eagles are not disturbed
The bright bulbs warm their nest
The sky is cobalt and pink

Groups of uniformed boys run on and off of the field
Spectators’ cheers  punctuate their actions
The eagles sleep peacefully
The sky is obscured by bright lights

Night
A trim Caucasian man moves a heavy switch downward
One by one the lights go dim, silent, off
The last lights are his truck’s headlights beaming across the infield
A crescent moon is visible overhead

Deer and coyotes play deadly hide and seek during the night
The deer seeking sweet flowers and grass
The coyotes seeking the deer
The moon and stars glow brightly overhead

Sunrise
The sun peeks above the horizon
Warm hues of yellow and orange
Songbirds wake to announce the day
Eagles circle overhead

What can I do to lift your spirit
to lighten your burden
to spark your smile?

How can I be more present
More compassionate
More loving?

How can I be the miracle that your heart needs right now?

Make no mistake…
I can live without you
I can thrive without you here
If you leave,
I can move forward
I can get great results
I can contribute to others

But why would I want to?

Home is where your dog sleeps on the couch
Or on your bed
Or wherever he wants

Home is the smell of familiar foods
On predictable days
And the sounds of familiar snores
At predictable times

Home is where you can have pizza and a cookie
For breakfast
Popcorn for lunch,
and pancakes for dinner.

Home is where you know where everything is
Tape is here,
A ladle is there,
And rain boots are in the hall closet

Home is where you hear
Familiar creaks in the floor
and
Slams of the door

Home is your
nest
den
cave
habitat
sanctuary

Home is where
The wrong word is a slap
crying is a belt
noise is
cigarettes on your back

Home is where they hurt your dog to hurt you
Where the boyfriends come and go
Where the drugs and flesh
are sold

Home is cops
Pounding on the door
Drunks passed out on the floor
Kids asking for more...
Food

Home is needles
it’s pipes
It’s tweakers trading their lives
for a high

Home is spoiled milk in the fridge
Empty boxes and cans and
Roaches crawling
Everywhere

Home is burns and bruises
Scars and stitches
and frequent
accidents

Home is damp ***** stained carpet
smells like ****
I want out of it

No matter how

Music transcends time and distance
touching souls generations apart
and worlds away....

Yesterday we bumped along dusty farm roads together
Yesterday the packing shed was a beehive of activity
Yesterday I was the ring bearer in his wedding
Yesterday all of the cousins splashed in his apartment swimming pool,
fearing the wrath of the mean man
in number 9.
Yesterday I saw him at the pier
Yesterday we went fishing
Yesterday he barbecued tri-tip and we reminisced over old photos
Yesterday he cheered for the Giants and the 49ers
Yesterday he laughed until tears rolled from the corners of his eyes
Yesterday there was a tomorrow to look forward to…

I can’t feel my legs
Stay with us, Buddy
The chopper’s inbound
I need some O-Positive

Stay with us, Buddy
Apply direct pressure
I need some O-Positive
Put that one over here

Apply direct pressure
I’ve lost the pulse
Put that one over here
Where’s the Chaplain?

I’ve lost the pulse
The chopper’s inbound
Where’s the Chaplain
I can’t feel my legs

Look
My arms
Have no hands
They are but clubs
My gift from the Interahamwe soldiers
Machetes chopping old, young, everyone
Children, wife dead
One ******
April
Night

"Hello?"
Click
Her voice sounds the same.
After 35 years, nothing has changed.
She is still 19 and I am still 22.
There have been no marriages or divorces.
No kids, dogs, or houses.
There are no commitments or inhibitions.
There is only that perfect wonderland called young love.

No tender words
In gilded script
Will appear on Mother’s Day

No bright bouquets
Family photos or
Teddy bears
Will clutter where you lay

In your life you had no time
For sentiments such as these
You’d rather we spend the money
On cornbread and chili beans.

Buy some toilet brushes and bathroom grout,
I can hear you say,
Or better yet,
Buy the kids some clothes
And put them on lay-a-way.

Don’t shop at those expensive stores
When Walmart works just fine
Why pay $1.62
When you can get it for $.99?

You’d tell us not to bother
Getting cards or presents
But on Mother’s Day you’d be irate
Because we actually listened.

So on Mother’s Day in ‘17
Your gift will be the same
A reused box from Amazon
Where we just X’d out the name
Inside the box are useful things
That do not cost a lot

From discount stores and sales racks
To keep the prices down
We’ll donate them to a shelter
That helps the homeless right downtown
Perhaps that will make you happy,
But my heart is filled with doubt
I’m sure there’s something in that box
For you to yell at me about.

The error message reads: Out of memory.
Its capacity has reached its limit.
But the ‘memories’ that it possesses are touchstones on my family’s journey together.
My son’s tiny five year old fingers learned to navigate MacOs on this computer, with this trackpad.
My daughter’s poems were composed here.
Hundreds of papers, presentations, employee reviews,
and math lessons were clicked and dragged into existence here.
Inside its silicon brain are thousands of family photos, bits of music, and other ephemera meaningful only to us.
Truly, this old computer is our family’s memory box.

Your skin is so smooth.
My fingers trace your gentle curves.
Just the right amount of firm and supple.
I bring you close – you smell of summer, of sunshine.
I smile

The blade of the knife catches the sun as it pierces your skin
I pull downward
Hard
The skin rips.
Wetness drips
From your exposed flesh.

I see what I have done.
I can’t stop myself.
I cut again
Again
and AGAIN.

I tear you apart.
Ignoring the voices of fairness and reason
That might have – should have – stopped me.

My children’s eyes fill with horror as they witness the frenzy.
They plead, “No, Daddy, Stop!”
I turn to them
Dripping knife in hand
“Do you want some of this?”

They shake their heads and back away.

Good.

This last orange is mine.