The curiosity
looks too much like me
'to be or not to be'
a coincidence.

It creeps suspiciously
silently, it is
almost next to me
and
the curiosity frightens me.

Even when I count to ten
close my eyes and open them
it's still there.

and more than curiously
its eyes are not on me
what it is
'to be or not to be'
I do not know.

***** words aren’t always hidden
in symbols, are they?

Some poets use words to wound,
and they know my weakness.

The subtle weapon of language.
The tool of a master.

Artfully chosen,
then Drawn like a dagger.

Slaying my attempts
at peace of mind.

Because they know I always
read between the lines.

perhaps being told
“you are not alone,” is the
scariest of all

My father used to sing this ditty for us:

"Columbus sailed the ocean blue
in 14 hundred 92
He sailed as far as Chicopee Falls
...and there he left his overalls"

When my teacher asked where Columbus landed,
I knew exactly where! Out of my seat, hand waving in the air... "Oooo ooo me! I know!"

"Yes, Liz..."

"Chicopee Falls!!" ...and I argued the accuracy, VEHEMENTLY.

At least Chicopee was a genuine Native Algonquin word, meaning violent waters.

Thanks Dad!

I was always a different one
Out of place with hair undone
Seeker of the fates unknown
Collector of dead rats and their bones
I loved the chill that made bones ache
The desert's sun that kills and bakes
I lay upon the mountain tops
In all kinds of weather and falling rocks
I hid in the forest where
none could see
Swam muddy waters of the Tennessee
I give thanks when none is due
For the seeing eye over all I do
I was never planning on staying long
The mindful plans knew that all along
So the plans of rats and man
Are far beyond us to understand

On a battlefield lined
  with the blood of dead letters
I slay the monsters of uncertainty
   —and their legacy of fear

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2013)