Tag Archives: birds

Today is April 18, 2015. I am alive and well.

The poems that follow I wrote with Guy in mind when he was still in my life. Now that I have no lover, I wonder if I will  make one up and continue to write love poems. An imaginary lover would certainly cause me no  grief, unless of course I imagined he did. Ha. My intention is to have no lover in my life for a long time. I need time to just chill, as my niece would say. I toast to “chill in.” I can do this.

Love

She doesn’t know how the drapes came to be zippered shut. But they did. And locked. His light got tied behind his ears. The ball cap helped keep it in place. So when she met him that day for lunch, she was blind to the beauty he offered. No light pushed the sounds of love forward onto her plate of food. The meat was tough and the barbarian within signaled to her to take it into her own hands. Bite hard and pull ferociously at what remains outside the mouth. Just yesterday she accused him with small words of cheating. He assured her with bigger words that was not the truth. At lunch it became all too much and he cried tears onto wilted lettuce. They left for home without eating, her hand in his. She doesn’t know how the drapes came to be open.In tender light she lifted her skirt and invited him to come home.

Pre-Dawn

The sun has not dreamt itself awake, yet. Nor do I hear through the open window the excited nature of birds announcing dawn.

The microwave has quit its pulse. I hear you pull your bowl of oatmeal from its stomach the other side of the bedroom door. As with most mornings, I stretch my body the length of the horizon across the bed. Somewhere in the dark are the little dogs. I imagine their eyes open to the soft dark as mine are, wonder which God they embrace instinctively upon awakening. Breeze flutters through the window, stories my shin.

You crack the door, whisper “I love you” knowing I hear, knowing I pretend sleep, knowing you won’t resist that first impulse to tickle the arch of my foot…..you don’t . I laugh. Time pauses. And then there are birds, always birds.

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Today is July 29, 2013. I am alive and well.

It is good to feel alive, and good to feel well. I am glad Guy is not around when I wake up. I’m grouchy before my first two cups of coffee.

excerpt from Mind Without a Home

I want what lies beneath my madness. It is warm there. Thick there. Strong there. It is a place where Guy can rest his weary head on my shoulder, nestling into my long curls. I want the time I touch Guy to always be electric and new. This can be as long as my heart pumps blood to my mind, reminding me that madness is just a temporary thing. Whipped cream on coffee can be skimmed off, leaving coffee full and warm. Guy visits me where the birds dance hearts in the air above. Love and happiness lace my bones like liquor soaking cake.

Today is June 11, 2013. I am alive and well.

I’m sitting in a Starbuck’s with a great cup of coffee, noise, and song. I like it here; the energy is vibrant. I stopped coming for awhile because I wanted to be available to my 95-year-old neighbor. Her daughter was paying me money to clean and keep an eye on her. Well, the neighbor fired me! She said I wasn’t worth $60 a week. I know her statement wasn’t meant to hurt. I know not to take it personal; it is just a matter of budget, which I understand. I am still available to her, just not all the time. The $60 was going to pay my Starbuck’s bill…oh well!!

I’m amazed at how often I mention birds in the manuscript.

Excerpt–

The sun has not dreamt itself awake yet. I cannot hear through the window the excited nature of birds announcing dawn.

The skull he becomes with the use of cocaine leaves him with no expression although inside he feels he is bursting and all drives are heightened. He wants to do things he is incapable of doing like jumping off the fifteen story high Bank of America, migrating with the birds heading north for a place of safety.

Gladys was thin and frail, swimming in a night coat the color of salmon with a voice as large as the Liberty Bell at noon on a clear morning of quiet birds.

Hunter lifts her head, slowly, its weight apparent. It is possible for a head to weigh more than a few pounds on a disenchanted day when even birds stay in the limbs and droop.

Today is June 11, 2013. I am alive and well.