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Surround Sound.
Big Bass Boom in my heart,
Brings home.
Self evident,
this hollow space
still waiting for your Love.

Years upon years
our cavern deepens.
Rough cut by rivers of tears.
Torrents actually.
They change nothing,
to quell fears and aloneness
Oh, the loneliness

This vantage has grown old.
Void of intimacy or tenderness.
No craggy wall to latch onto.
Retreat not an option,
nor a reachable rock in sight
to secure a safe escape.

Time to wave arms high!
Burn the SOS fire,
bright to the sky!
Let out a mighty Scream!

An empty echo
settles the truth.
Big Bass Boom in my Heart


Copyright © 2017.
Christi Michaels.
MoonFlower-Fluer de Luna
All Rights Reserved.
You forget how to love her and she forgets what it’s like to feel like there’s enough oxygen in her lungs. Oddly spaced breaths and too much blinking – how can she even walk in a straight line these days? You’ll go right, knowing she’ll go left and you’ll lose sleep over it because what you think is best always turns out to be the worst mistake. And you promised her you’d stop trying to solve all your problems by drowning yourself in alcohol and in return she granted you the softness of her skin, the brightness of her smile. Without your drinks – you aren’t yourself. That’s what you tell her. She laughs and tells you she knows who you are, don't worry. And you don’t understand because you don’t even know who you are but you’ll believe just about anything if it means getting out of this and being able to hold on to her and her jasmine scent. She's just like spring; and where you live there's only ever two seasons.
my hands never stop shaking, i'm tired of winter

trees wrapped in
glimmering lights  
shine and sparkle
under moons night
open land so bright
to run
to slide
snow so white and
soft like clouds
absorbs our bodies fall

pines and firs
a canopy
casting gaze on all below
branch tips wrapped in
delicate ice
magic wands
hovering o're our heads
this eve of moonlit glow


Copyright © 2014 Christi Michaels. All Rights Reserved.

Winter Everywhere!!!!:-)
That girl, just a tv show, a comment on equality,
Carol Burnett, slapstick extraordinaire,
JFK and MLK died so young but touched me,
Joe Dimaggio, I wanted to be as a kid,
smashing rocks tossed in the air
the last inning of the world series imagining,
the drama all in my head,
so little of the world did I know then,
Ghandhi should be my hero,
or Lincoln, but in my top ten,
are Marge, just a lady I know,
who loved animals and people,
Pops, my old friend, who has always been there when I needed
Shakespeare , of course,
who I quote ,
"When a father gives to his son, both laugh; when a son gives to his father, both cry."
Albert Einstein
who once stated
"You can't blame gravity for falling in love."
Helen Keller, when I think of her I feel ashamed
for complaining,
and of course Jesus,
and Allah and Moses and Abraham and
Nature and Sky and Wind
Your family home
has been sold
to the cultured,
the old vultures
feeding on the garden
thick with rabbits
and your father's dead
daughters, you sleep
in a pickup, tired
of work near the water,
fond of the instant,
you travel through
the country you know,
farm long forgotten,
the word free written
in red ******* your arm.
I look for you
In passing faces
A stranger's glance
In haunted places

I feel you among
Nature's grandest setting
It is you that I remember
Even when I'm forgetting

I see you wherever I go
In everyone I meet
Your words echo in conversations
That pass me on the street

Your soft, easy way
That safe familiar tone
That always takes me back
To a time long gone
I came upon a parade of
Zinnias today...
lined along the pave-way,
wild and wily.
An infinite variety
of colorful heads
popping up and out,
like eyes of
wary prairie dogs,
on the lookout for action.

Thought of you...
the flower heads you gave me,
filled with seeds aplenty
to plant in the spring.
Knew just where they would go.
Imagined my hands in the
welcoming earth, sowing
them at just the right depth.

They would grow,
reaching with their
long thin frames.
Vigorously tall and full of
Summers' brightness.
Symmetrical flowers
filled with attitude
towards the sun.

Flourishing in cracks along  
sidewalks and driveways.
Finding comfort and feeling free
in the most limited of spaces.

Yet...I did not plant them.
Aware that I am
not able, just now, 
to make such a commitment.
To water and ****.
Ensuring that they
would reach their full potential.
A simple promise of one season.
To nourish a delicate,
perfect Zinnia.

~Christi Michaels~July 2015~

Copyright © 2015 Christi Michaels.
All Rights Reserved.
for Scott, my "Walking Man"
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