By the Pond

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My momentum coming down the hill caused the toes of my shoes to dig into the dirt. The pond was low and dark; the green algae from summer had disappeared. I could feel him behind me and I could hear the friction of his boots against the moss and stones. He didn’t touch me but we shared a fire that he had built and we drank together and talked. While we were sitting on the bottom of the overturned rowboat he slid next to me and offered me a sip of his whiskey. I didn’t think of it at the time, but I’m thinking of it now…that not 10 feet away a tree stood with our initials carved into its bark and I wonder if what we have between the two of us is like that carving. Something that is out in the open. Something concrete and part of something natural and organic that is real and definite and was created to be worked at to make a mark.

The Bath

Pink soles,
one tiny mole.
Soapy water,
quiet mutter.
Tiled walls,
whispered calls.
Tiny splashes,
private flashes.
Behind a towel,
inner scowl.
Draining flush,
head-rush.
Slapping hair,
completely bare.
Padding feet,
dripping treat.
Empty bed,
muddled head.
Heavy sigh,
night's goodbye.

Now

Now you are sad and scared and every bad feeling you've ever had is welling up inside you. You will cry and go silent for hours at a time. You will want nothing and everything all at once. You will be buried under emotion and you will fight yourself more than anyone else because you are doing this to yourself. You have made a choice and you will hate yourself for it but you know it is right. You are pushing yourself into the open and risking the most powerful thing you have all because you are being selfish. You will continue to be selfish even when it is wrong. You will have to work against those negative feelings towards him and who he chooses to spend his time with. This is not about him, it is about you. You are your worst enemy and your biggest supporter. You have to be strong for you, now and always.

all

This is what I want my life to be: freedom and big skies – flowers and clutter and roots. Love and laughter and contentment, excitement and wonder. Oceans, bays, lakes and ponds. Small creatures, big dogs, barn cats, dirt, wind and warm breezes. Sand and cool nights, stars, sunsets, smiles and wealth of spirit. Openness, quiet, commotion, heat and cold, dry, moist, smooth and detailed, rough and plain. Forests, woods, mountains and hills, nature, nurture. I want life to be overwhelming, satisfying, terrifying and mystical. I want to live in a fairy tale every day.

crazy

Bilingual = speaking in dialects of crazy (in addition to English):
I believe everyone is bilingual in a loose sense of the term. I consider every family to speak a different dialect of crazy. No one group can speak the same form of craziness but different dialects can evolve and be sustained within a family dynamic. So, generally everyone is bilingual. You have a base type of language socially acceptable in most areas such as the workplace, grocery shopping, restaurants etc. and then you have certain cases where seemingly communicative people diverge from socially acceptable speech into their personal dialect. In most cases this dialect would be understood, maybe not approved but definitely translatable to a family member observing the conversation or having the incident relayed to them at a later time. To clarify the flexible definition of crazy I would have to point out that every individual's interpretation of what is acceptable, humorous or understood varies based on life experiences and learned behaviors. Crazy to some maybe "normal" to others. "Normal" to others may be crazy to some.

Muscle & Bone, Meat & Cheese

Muscle & bone, meat & cheese.
The sunlight makes me sneeze.
Fingernails & gore,
Tell me you don't want more?
Make me dance.
Watch you prance.
All she ever wanted was romance.
Pork & beans,
You look good in blue jeans
I live beyond my means.

Wine Induced

And I try to breathe…When I heard in a song "freedom can make us feel contained" I thought of the happiness that has turned to contentedness that has allowed my pulse to be numbed by its morphine-And although I am no addict my veins throb with red wine blood that makes me pull my pitiless self together to rally my thoughts to connect with my heart, so congested with the love I bear for my other half - who, like me feels the words and wounds of the world. However he lives them through his work while I lie on his featherbed and let his ambition fill me to the point where my creativity is sedated. Because nothing can feel better than a lover's passion. But, ah-the pen scratches and bleeds so well on the paper. How easy it is to forget the fire that keeps us unsettled: lying in the belly until we ignite it against our darkness we are afraid to let free.

El Dorado

Your eyes are the golden pools of El Dorado,
I dive into blue heat that draws me.
As I fall I wish to pull you inside
The space where I can feel your gaze.
All this I feel and see
in the golden pools of your eyes.