tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33160205260368354062024-03-06T17:54:46.272-08:00Quiet CommotionWine and Wordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06778785233226804217noreply@blogger.comBlogger175125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3316020526036835406.post-2415901259070148052024-02-16T11:39:00.000-08:002024-02-16T11:39:08.160-08:00Pulling Up Roses<div style="text-align: left;">It's a wound so old,</div><div style="text-align: left;">covered with years.</div><div style="text-align: left;">You could mow it down</div><div style="text-align: left;">if you were still around,</div><div style="text-align: left;">but there's no closure</div><div style="text-align: left;">with you in the ground.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Where were the stitches</div><div style="text-align: left;">as the blood leached out?</div><div style="text-align: left;">I had to self-infuse</div><div style="text-align: left;">and it isn't about</div><div style="text-align: left;">status quo.</div><div style="text-align: left;">It's jus the drug, you know...</div><div style="text-align: left;">keeps you so numb</div><div style="text-align: left;">and somehow alive.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I despise you for your weakness</div><div style="text-align: left;">I despise you for your failure</div><div style="text-align: left;">I hate you most for the reflection</div><div style="text-align: left;">and the way I see me there.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Whatever the conflict...</div><div style="text-align: left;">your daughter carries the anvil</div><div style="text-align: left;">that drops on my neck </div><div style="text-align: left;">and sinks the progress we might have made.</div><div style="text-align: left;">You give her that power</div><div style="text-align: left;">over</div><div style="text-align: left;">me.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Your excuse is fucking ancient.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Haven't you fixed it yet?</div><div style="text-align: left;">But don't point that finger back at me.</div><div style="text-align: left;">My pain is bigger,</div><div style="text-align: left;">don't you get that?</div><div style="text-align: left;">Ha!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Can we ever be to each other</div><div style="text-align: left;">the grace that's so offered</div><div style="text-align: left;">or will we always be the devil</div><div style="text-align: left;">poking fingers into wounds proffered?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">We should be the stable,</div><div style="text-align: left;">the picketed sanctuary.</div><div style="text-align: left;">But we're pulling up roses</div><div style="text-align: left;">while the weeks run unchecked</div><div style="text-align: left;">through our unease.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Wine and Wordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06778785233226804217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3316020526036835406.post-62559026143407453992024-02-16T11:29:00.000-08:002024-02-16T11:29:57.419-08:00Inhuman<div style="text-align: left;">I'm not human<br />after all you cut from me<br />the core and emphasis</div><div style="text-align: left;">of what I was made for.</div><div style="text-align: left;">You bent it backwards.</div><div style="text-align: left;">You broke the reed you beat me with.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I'm not whole anymore.</div><div style="text-align: left;">The gaps are wider than the seams.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Nothings comes together</div><div style="text-align: left;">from the pieces</div><div style="text-align: left;">and I can't cover anything.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I'm vanilla fluff to everyone,</div><div style="text-align: left;">most of all myself,</div><div style="text-align: left;">but you see me as power.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Why?</div><div style="text-align: left;">I've never been so anemic</div><div style="text-align: left;">ineffectual</div><div style="text-align: left;">a breath wasted</div><div style="text-align: left;">an inhalation so labored</div><div style="text-align: left;">it can have no reach but life support.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Why this life?</div><div style="text-align: left;">Damn it</div><div style="text-align: left;">show me why?</div>Wine and Wordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06778785233226804217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3316020526036835406.post-66786229889808340442023-09-30T16:14:00.003-07:002023-09-30T16:14:29.677-07:00When The Glitter Wears Off<div style="text-align: left;">I saw a thousand diamonds</div><div style="text-align: left;">rolling across the surface of the deep,</div><div style="text-align: left;">like the shimmer I wore once</div><div style="text-align: left;">when life was simpler</div><div style="text-align: left;">and ignorant ducks all followed in line.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Who knew the smallest breeze</div><div style="text-align: left;">could blow the glitter elsewhere</div><div style="text-align: left;">and I, left rather dull</div><div style="text-align: left;">and naked.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Am I the Emporer?</div><div style="text-align: left;">Where are my clothes?</div><div style="text-align: left;">Had I ever really owned such regalia?</div><div style="text-align: left;">Or was I dull from the start,</div><div style="text-align: left;">wearing you like a charm?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Then I realized how lopsided it all is.</div><div style="text-align: left;">What is a charm without a bracelet</div><div style="text-align: left;">or a bracelet without an arm?</div><div style="text-align: left;">I am the anchor</div><div style="text-align: left;">without which</div><div style="text-align: left;">glitter gathers dust</div><div style="text-align: left;">in a closet of desire. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">It is MY arm</div><div style="text-align: left;">decorated to my pleasure</div><div style="text-align: left;">that meets your pleasure</div><div style="text-align: left;">or it doesn't.</div><div style="text-align: left;">But it's my fucking arm.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I think you understand now,</div><div style="text-align: left;">right?</div><div style="text-align: left;">I choose the charm</div><div style="text-align: left;">and the glitter is the light I shine</div><div style="text-align: left;">on my own skin.</div>Wine and Wordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06778785233226804217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3316020526036835406.post-5667118746333793952023-09-30T16:08:00.004-07:002023-09-30T16:08:51.299-07:00Glass House<div style="text-align: left;">What's it going to take?</div><div style="text-align: left;">What pound of flesh?</div><div style="text-align: left;">It's not really what I did...</div><div style="text-align: left;">it's what was done before, that caused the bedrock</div><div style="text-align: left;">of your unforgiveness.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">You want me over a barrel</div><div style="text-align: left;">digging out from a deficit</div><div style="text-align: left;">day by day by day,</div><div style="text-align: left;">and you thinking you're faultless.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">In the end</div><div style="text-align: left;">you gutted me,</div><div style="text-align: left;">barrel be damned.</div><div style="text-align: left;">I was drawn and quartered</div><div style="text-align: left;">by your need to play God</div><div style="text-align: left;">to make me confess,</div><div style="text-align: left;">to make me pay</div><div style="text-align: left;">for your paranoia.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Your house is glass also.</div><div style="text-align: left;">How will <i>you</i> fare</div><div style="text-align: left;">with all those stones?</div><p><br /></p>Wine and Wordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06778785233226804217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3316020526036835406.post-39628731655039684422023-09-30T16:02:00.002-07:002023-09-30T16:02:58.239-07:00The Wind Outside<div style="text-align: left;">The waters are agitated,</div><div style="text-align: left;">waves reigning havoc since day break.</div><div style="text-align: left;">They crash against the rocks</div><div style="text-align: left;">the wind bending branches at shoreline.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The cabin is oddly bereft of the storm</div><div style="text-align: left;">although every other instance</div><div style="text-align: left;">wind has howled through like a freight train,</div><div style="text-align: left;">scattering papers</div><div style="text-align: left;">depositing dust.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Why today...</div><div style="text-align: left;">when the storm within me rages</div><div style="text-align: left;">has God blocked the wind?</div><div style="text-align: left;">He's left it for me to see</div><div style="text-align: left;">but protects me from it's consequence.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Even stranger,</div><div style="text-align: left;">I wanted to feel it's fierceness</div><div style="text-align: left;">to know it's power</div><div style="text-align: left;">the strength of my foe.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">God whispers</div><div style="text-align: left;">"It's not your foe.</div><div style="text-align: left;">It's not your storm."</div>Wine and Wordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06778785233226804217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3316020526036835406.post-65532553645464072552023-09-30T15:58:00.006-07:002023-09-30T15:58:56.378-07:00Shit Show<div style="text-align: left;">Things have gone to shit</div><div style="text-align: left;">as they often do,</div><div style="text-align: left;">and no one is really sure</div><div style="text-align: left;">if we want the show to go on.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The banquet is set</div><div style="text-align: left;">costumes bejeweled</div><div style="text-align: left;">but the magic has left the stage.</div><div style="text-align: left;">The show must not go on</div><div style="text-align: left;">for the damage...</div><div style="text-align: left;">the damage done.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Will it break us?<br />Will it build us?</div><div style="text-align: left;">May we be renewed?</div><div style="text-align: left;">Or was it a poorly written play,</div><div style="text-align: left;">a show for love</div><div style="text-align: left;">not of love,</div><div style="text-align: left;">a need for applause</div><div style="text-align: left;">not worthy of such things?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">What the hell did you do?</div><div style="text-align: left;">I warned you.</div><div style="text-align: left;">You warned me off.</div><div style="text-align: left;">I complied, and</div><div style="text-align: left;">I failed you.</div>Wine and Wordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06778785233226804217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3316020526036835406.post-800730285327111832023-09-30T15:52:00.000-07:002023-09-30T15:52:15.994-07:00Invisible Loss<div style="text-align: left;">Sometimes loss is like dynamite.<br />It blows a whole so deep and wide</div><div style="text-align: left;">that everyone can see it.</div><div style="text-align: left;">There's a divorce, or a death,</div><div style="text-align: left;">a fire, a flood.</div><div style="text-align: left;">And even with the breadth and width of it,</div><div style="text-align: left;">it is compact...</div><div style="text-align: left;">a measurable thing that can be calculated</div><div style="text-align: left;">and dealt with.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And then there is the other loss</div><div style="text-align: left;">like a fuse that never ignites;</div><div style="text-align: left;">it just smolders and smolders</div><div style="text-align: left;">with the constant threat of doing so.</div><div style="text-align: left;">It's a dud that never was,</div><div style="text-align: left;">and never will be anything but</div><div style="text-align: left;">the perceived power to remove the hope...</div><div style="text-align: left;">that whatever you lost might come back.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Why do they say you can't lose</div><div style="text-align: left;">what you never had?</div><div style="text-align: left;">Because if feels like dynamite</div><div style="text-align: left;">that no one can see.</div>Wine and Wordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06778785233226804217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3316020526036835406.post-62537871615160705072023-08-21T08:47:00.002-07:002023-09-30T15:53:18.151-07:00The Ashes<blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">When we released the remains of your body into the deep<br />I expected the tide and waves to take you<br />where my tears could not.<br />The tears, as always, were unexpected and unwelcome<br />but I encouraged them anyway<br />requesting they name themselves...<br />sadness? loss? anger? guilt?<br />They didn't answer<br />nor did I expect they would. </div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"> </div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">I cried for you, the same way you lived your life,<br />distanced from any emotion that might tear the fabric.<br />One tear and the whole thing may start to unravel,<br />which apparently was completely unacceptable.<br />And yet...I unraveled once.<br />I'm better for it...<br />certain of it, until<br />that needle of religious guilt sews up my joy<br />darning the hole through which I escaped<br />with a seal of condemnation.<br /></div></blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">We released you into the deep<br />and you sank into the sorrow you always carried,<br />slowly...maintaining the shape in which I unburdened my hands of you,<br />not scattered, not in the wind or the tide<br />still conformed...<br />a woman who, even in death<br />could not break free.<br /></div></blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">I watched your luminescent green ash sink<br />beneath me<br />tugging as in life, towards you<br />away from me.<br />You harmed me greatly.<br />I released you gently.<br />You scarred me for the duration of my life<br />and I took care of you in yours.<br /></div></blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;">Everyone you sought so hard to impress<br />were without witness<br />and you left the earth alone.<br />I expected the tide and the waves to take you<br />but it was the deep that claimed you.<br />You went straight down.</div></blockquote>Wine and Wordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06778785233226804217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3316020526036835406.post-54072766054191228762023-05-17T09:21:00.021-07:002023-09-30T15:53:44.058-07:00Killer Argument<div style="text-align: left;">The way we scream,</div><div style="text-align: left;">as if louder is a jackhammer</div><div style="text-align: left;">to the ears.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Our faces, red with effort...</div><div style="text-align: left;">no longer recognizable</div><div style="text-align: left;">as shadows pass across rocky features</div><div style="text-align: left;">now so jagged sharp.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">We have surrendered everything to anger,</div><div style="text-align: left;">fueled its fire with inattention</div><div style="text-align: left;">to what really matters.</div><div style="text-align: left;">...surely not this mountain</div><div style="text-align: left;">on which we may now die!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Murder is not worth being right.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Let's cease fire</div><div style="text-align: left;">before our small lives</div><div style="text-align: left;">are etched in stone</div><div style="text-align: left;">above a grave.</div>Wine and Wordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06778785233226804217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3316020526036835406.post-42405923636348080312023-05-03T08:49:00.007-07:002023-09-30T15:54:10.416-07:00Slow Fade<div style="text-align: left;">I'm remembering the good times</div><div style="text-align: left;">sweeping others under the rug.</div><div style="text-align: left;">It seems wrong to mourn in anger</div><div style="text-align: left;">to say goodbye in hate</div><div style="text-align: left;">because there will never be another chance to do it over.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Your bones now make their presence known </div><div style="text-align: left;">through the skin you've worn </div><div style="text-align: left;">so reluctantly it was painful</div><div style="text-align: left;">to watch you reject your human form.</div><div style="text-align: left;">There's no dignity to be found now</div><div style="text-align: left;">even if you wanted it</div><div style="text-align: left;">but you ask for a mirror</div><div style="text-align: left;">smile into it, meeting an old friend.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Today you were so sweet to me.</div><div style="text-align: left;">I ran and hid my knives</div><div style="text-align: left;">locked away my guns and my grudges,</div><div style="text-align: left;">even knowing they will pick the lock</div><div style="text-align: left;">and find their freedom again</div><div style="text-align: left;">just in time for your funeral</div><div style="text-align: left;">where I will wear guilt as the color black</div><div style="text-align: left;">hating myself for hating you</div><div style="text-align: left;">while you disintegrated.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Wine and Wordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06778785233226804217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3316020526036835406.post-74691915483712891742022-12-30T09:10:00.042-08:002023-09-30T15:54:26.683-07:00The Meadow<div style="text-align: left;">The bee told me there was nothing to fear.</div><div style="text-align: left;">We could both romp in the meadow.</div><div style="text-align: left;">It was <i>our</i> playground</div><div style="text-align: left;">and if I got stung</div><div style="text-align: left;">it was a mistake.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Mine or yours?" I asked.</div><div style="text-align: left;">The bee said he couldn't point fingers</div><div style="text-align: left;">as he had none.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I listened to the buzz of his departure</div><div style="text-align: left;">as I considered the meadow,</div><div style="text-align: left;">so drawn to it</div><div style="text-align: left;">yet so afraid.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />The buzzing grew louder and stronger</div><div style="text-align: left;">the bees seeming to multiply before my very eyes,</div><div style="text-align: left;">yet my feet, still only two.</div><div style="text-align: left;">My feet knew fear</div><div style="text-align: left;">had felt sting.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I had always thought to save the feet</div><div style="text-align: left;">but never considered to save the bee.</div><div style="text-align: left;">If I romped slowly</div><div style="text-align: left;">with considerate feet</div><div style="text-align: left;">would it still be fun?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I realized then</div><div style="text-align: left;">that too narrow focus on feet or bee</div><div style="text-align: left;">was the thief of joy</div><div style="text-align: left;">so why go to the meadow at all?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Or...</div><div style="text-align: left;">I could romp through the meadow knowing</div><div style="text-align: left;">freedom and pain play hand in hand.</div><div style="text-align: left;">You can't have one without the other</div><div style="text-align: left;">and there isn't always fault in it...</div><div style="text-align: left;">isn't always intent.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">My feet need the meadow,</div><div style="text-align: left;">the meadow needs the bee,</div><div style="text-align: left;">and we will just do our best by each other.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Wine and Wordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06778785233226804217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3316020526036835406.post-75348527679612727282022-12-14T09:05:00.014-08:002023-09-30T15:54:45.265-07:00Dissociating<div style="text-align: left;">I watch the light</div><div style="text-align: left;">leak through the cracks of flesh walls.</div><div style="text-align: left;">I cannot contain it</div><div style="text-align: left;">and I cannot find more.</div><div style="text-align: left;">I am the vessel of darkness,</div><div style="text-align: left;">it's steward,</div><div style="text-align: left;">curator.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">It is the museum I visit</div><div style="text-align: left;">with no placards to explain the awful black voids</div><div style="text-align: left;">where art should hang.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I don't want to visit the museum anymore.</div><div style="text-align: left;">I don't want to keep paying with my life.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I should burn it down...</div><div style="text-align: left;">let the fire be my light</div><div style="text-align: left;">and the ashes</div><div style="text-align: left;">my masterpiece.</div>Wine and Wordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06778785233226804217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3316020526036835406.post-59000135187889057952022-10-07T14:20:00.000-07:002022-10-07T14:20:48.970-07:00Intuition<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmu-39CWaRvjFMwITy_oL6LsD79-nQLxp-59QGtQlnM2VWOVW_PpjW_sco3-0GhofFnl6r0LE4nDYWpn2O9pXTuKYEj59B0OEnQsphqEvEm6jh3h2SU2yhedUgZr9dETE0EnAaa3KlKximA8nCwTQ8GbXy8aqNbGW6SJ9Fdtb6TEAnJ2yqWmdUyOWAcQ/s789/intuition-einstein.webp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="789" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmu-39CWaRvjFMwITy_oL6LsD79-nQLxp-59QGtQlnM2VWOVW_PpjW_sco3-0GhofFnl6r0LE4nDYWpn2O9pXTuKYEj59B0OEnQsphqEvEm6jh3h2SU2yhedUgZr9dETE0EnAaa3KlKximA8nCwTQ8GbXy8aqNbGW6SJ9Fdtb6TEAnJ2yqWmdUyOWAcQ/s320/intuition-einstein.webp" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;">There's that sound,</div><div style="text-align: left;">a hiccup in a world so largely a cacophony</div><div style="text-align: left;">that you strain towards the source.</div><div style="text-align: left;">All is not right.</div><div style="text-align: left;">All is not well.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Your gut takes a turn,</div><div style="text-align: left;">roller coaster of intuition...</div><div style="text-align: left;">trying to gain your attention.</div><div style="text-align: left;">All is not right.</div><div style="text-align: left;">All is not well.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The problem lies in the weight of sense,</div><div style="text-align: left;">a scale too largely favoring want against truth.</div><div style="text-align: left;">So you leap "need" first</div><div style="text-align: left;">while your heart unsteadies its beat,</div><div style="text-align: left;">and only the deepest parts of you can acknowledge</div><div style="text-align: left;">the lurch of decent.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">You fucked up again.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">When will you start to listen</div><div style="text-align: left;">with your body.</div><p></p>Wine and Wordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06778785233226804217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3316020526036835406.post-6219530386313525792022-10-07T14:04:00.001-07:002022-10-07T14:04:54.198-07:00Ego<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaL2dFijm1CuBg78iD-NHN-c1Le6UDixJWkWmjT8RSaqbve3r87FpcjNg2Hl9Sle4EYbXe4ZRucQDWXorS4CvjLJrnuQ1uZ9KYm0uz7lf-yaxYyY9p76p2myLZKCGCV1499FXwuHkI5ZoDAa-BlkEz5mWhUAXuIIq8IiBol27OZy34YuKXOKHLYphZRg/s508/balloon.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="339" data-original-width="508" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaL2dFijm1CuBg78iD-NHN-c1Le6UDixJWkWmjT8RSaqbve3r87FpcjNg2Hl9Sle4EYbXe4ZRucQDWXorS4CvjLJrnuQ1uZ9KYm0uz7lf-yaxYyY9p76p2myLZKCGCV1499FXwuHkI5ZoDAa-BlkEz5mWhUAXuIIq8IiBol27OZy34YuKXOKHLYphZRg/s320/balloon.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I'm just a balloon</div><div style="text-align: left;">filled or leaking with the air of opinion.</div><div style="text-align: left;">We are all just latex,</div><div style="text-align: left;">nothing more, and nothing less...</div><div style="text-align: left;">and air</div><div style="text-align: left;">is as cheap as it gets.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And yet with all the fluff blown up our ass</div><div style="text-align: left;">or huffed in our face</div><div style="text-align: left;">we give credence far beyond worth.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">What you think of me is worthless</div><div style="text-align: left;">if I value myself.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Your judgement is worthless</div><div style="text-align: left;">if God holds me righteous.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">So why do I hold my balloon beneath the spigot</div><div style="text-align: left;">just to feel the weight of water?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Ego.</div><p></p>Wine and Wordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06778785233226804217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3316020526036835406.post-79113668759707286412022-10-07T13:58:00.001-07:002022-10-16T14:00:03.986-07:00Colorado Rockies<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-5h39P9aWln69vg5vvcASm3JuzVj8JhpZcVEv60uQOIVXqJvQRFiJYkML18YQRSvcWq7OFXHScOdiHDIjJ3b2qlN_SUBoOg3KeyKb2QOaEyWR4MwkgOCCW2UyHaNBDz7wWxMH4Aig0zjPeOs-83wW33pQ3AylVIj1DkDP2PH6z0StYk15TOVeeErdGg/s612/Hikers.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="408" data-original-width="612" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-5h39P9aWln69vg5vvcASm3JuzVj8JhpZcVEv60uQOIVXqJvQRFiJYkML18YQRSvcWq7OFXHScOdiHDIjJ3b2qlN_SUBoOg3KeyKb2QOaEyWR4MwkgOCCW2UyHaNBDz7wWxMH4Aig0zjPeOs-83wW33pQ3AylVIj1DkDP2PH6z0StYk15TOVeeErdGg/s320/Hikers.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>Sitting at the trailhead, I watch youth, vigor, and stamina pass me by, wearing Lulu Lemon tops with matching shorts the color of wildflowers.</p><p>The mountains stand stoic and resolute. They know my path and there is no pretending otherwise. We are the same. The weather has worn our edges and though theirs will take longer, we will both die of the same natural causes. Erosion and decay.</p><p>They say birth is the one thing everybody dies of. They also say that if you could feel all the pain that creeps up with age in one moment, you would die of shock. Isn't it amazing what we learn to tolerate as long as it's a slow build? The mountain with the climbers on its face and blizzard at its back. Me with my twisted trunk and cracked branches. Both of us at the mercy of time.</p><div style="text-align: left;">I say to my mom, and must to myself the same, "Make the most of the time you have left." To focus on the erosion is to rob yourself of the best it's going to get...for tomorrow the wind will howl again and the water will run across surfaces, creating deeper creases.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Today may be your best day, Annabelle. Get out of your head....</div><div style="text-align: left;">even if being in your heart hurts like hell.</div>Wine and Wordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06778785233226804217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3316020526036835406.post-6739173916498653982022-10-07T13:45:00.001-07:002022-10-07T13:45:07.990-07:00About "These Five Hours"<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgge-x2GnKefwXbATidQ8oP9IX-C_xhQbzRuc7izp0Wkj0My2C9uYgkXRh3Dg02XyZJLAkR08jHubqjbh8-j7b3byWGEt-J20cE0xYB5oFx4-090crgW4R8vmHEbKSZcq_C5ORU4gsbS-D89cyY9ZXtm1E0SebANQh3czEKi_XP3mG-YBKkefps_LKaw/s8400/Ferentill%20Valley.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="6300" data-original-width="8400" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgge-x2GnKefwXbATidQ8oP9IX-C_xhQbzRuc7izp0Wkj0My2C9uYgkXRh3Dg02XyZJLAkR08jHubqjbh8-j7b3byWGEt-J20cE0xYB5oFx4-090crgW4R8vmHEbKSZcq_C5ORU4gsbS-D89cyY9ZXtm1E0SebANQh3czEKi_XP3mG-YBKkefps_LKaw/s320/Ferentill%20Valley.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p><br /></p><div style="text-align: left;">Have you ever reached perfection?<br />I did<br />once.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I took a pain and reduced it for hours</div><div style="text-align: left;">simmering until it thickened</div><div style="text-align: left;">into something that could stand on its own.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">It took few words</div><div style="text-align: left;">and less literacy</div><div style="text-align: left;">but it perfectly encapsulated </div><div style="text-align: left;">me, us, then.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Perfection needed only one ingredient.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Death.</div><p></p>Wine and Wordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06778785233226804217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3316020526036835406.post-27829891834802572282022-09-09T09:00:00.001-07:002023-08-21T09:05:36.689-07:00<div style="text-align: left;"><b><u>Rude Awakening</u></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">God wakes me</div><div style="text-align: left;">deep in the night when owls are prowling</div><div style="text-align: left;">and nocturnal creatures rouse from sleep.</div><div style="text-align: left;">He wakes me to save her.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I call the night humans</div><div style="text-align: left;">who corral her to safety.</div><div style="text-align: left;">They tell her she is not the owl</div><div style="text-align: left;">not one to roam the night.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> "<i>time to sleep dear"</i><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;">They do not tell her the truth...</div><div style="text-align: left;">that soon she will fly with the owl</div><div style="text-align: left;">and never again touch earth.</div>Wine and Wordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06778785233226804217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3316020526036835406.post-43872139192114329112022-03-03T14:22:00.005-08:002022-10-07T14:28:21.222-07:00Miscarriage<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5aa95w8xEAiAH1C1L42zit4bNwTFjWlLVzADjdxdeCP1MTQgq381qK_NJ1tZyzid1g0oMuYYVsguTYR8cf6JVr40qlOixdolrQC3TyXL96e791xaT5nmARrp7oUQ5zbZn98AufOrDsLuLiFLJ55lYsDFgGHUs_y3LQC2nAjeBxnRxX17EP_u7Fo9mkQ/s1024/miscarriage.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5aa95w8xEAiAH1C1L42zit4bNwTFjWlLVzADjdxdeCP1MTQgq381qK_NJ1tZyzid1g0oMuYYVsguTYR8cf6JVr40qlOixdolrQC3TyXL96e791xaT5nmARrp7oUQ5zbZn98AufOrDsLuLiFLJ55lYsDFgGHUs_y3LQC2nAjeBxnRxX17EP_u7Fo9mkQ/s320/miscarriage.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The egg is so fragile,</div><div style="text-align: left;">yet holding within it</div><div style="text-align: left;">the greatest of miracles.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">the embryo of all our hope...</div><div style="text-align: left;">all that we weren't but wished for,</div><div style="text-align: left;">all that we are, yet even more so </div><div style="text-align: left;">feel entitled to.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The egg is so fragile.</div><div style="text-align: left;">The smallest misalignment and hope</div><div style="text-align: left;">summersaults into a barren winter</div><div style="text-align: left;">devoid of anything</div><div style="text-align: left;">that matters more.</div><p></p>Wine and Wordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06778785233226804217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3316020526036835406.post-6733492369145087272021-12-28T14:28:00.001-08:002022-10-07T14:36:43.231-07:00The Bruise<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIAQsPgHV-QUc1v0BCsQvo6DefqzH8KWN67Rldby00RI4ds468RhIC4uu8HDyeTiBxnufxOh61_4hCftGoNnE8wOMojYrPopRUGLGRSf-EcSUbn3qDkMw5RTbKdwTTVGVT1veEmlPVt9gDw6l3M7BKD6ck5IliwqLCU_u7UbWypH22P_-Zsyr55u3Tbw/s700/bruise.webp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="350" data-original-width="700" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIAQsPgHV-QUc1v0BCsQvo6DefqzH8KWN67Rldby00RI4ds468RhIC4uu8HDyeTiBxnufxOh61_4hCftGoNnE8wOMojYrPopRUGLGRSf-EcSUbn3qDkMw5RTbKdwTTVGVT1veEmlPVt9gDw6l3M7BKD6ck5IliwqLCU_u7UbWypH22P_-Zsyr55u3Tbw/s320/bruise.webp" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I'm up early</div><div style="text-align: left;">earlier than the day...</div><div style="text-align: left;">black turning to blue</div><div style="text-align: left;">waiting for the yellow of morning,</div><div style="text-align: left;">like a bruise about to heal.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Isn't that funny?</div><div style="text-align: left;">"A bruise about to heal".</div><div style="text-align: left;">It doesn't just heal.</div><div style="text-align: left;">It turns from black to blue</div><div style="text-align: left;">green to yellow</div><div style="text-align: left;">to something just off from your skin tone.</div><div style="text-align: left;">And if deep enough</div><div style="text-align: left;">there is no healing.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Just an atonement through forgiveness</div><div style="text-align: left;">and an understanding that is yours alone</div><div style="text-align: left;">to plaster over the wound.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And yes,</div><div style="text-align: left;">that band-aid makes you well enough to continue the linear direction of life</div><div style="text-align: left;">without a backward glance,</div><div style="text-align: left;">except for those thrown over your shoulder</div><div style="text-align: left;">every day.</div><p></p>Wine and Wordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06778785233226804217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3316020526036835406.post-46065815351805869902021-08-22T14:36:00.001-07:002022-10-07T14:49:31.086-07:00A Rose in the Crabgrass<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRbtfBQSHSX-530vCvW0lqjzblzWHmLj-m0QMPBJ-6EESGgDNckin1uo4PUP6Etsxly8OJOMJTvpPgzEqX1gMbcWc90O2P0BIzd2nn68NDOksSFxzFpi1OsdQRtmB7xpKND8BRvG0NvBvdoOtvqoFvkQONEOACB5HAJZK4h1JeAqGnUsTviPNbtmOzRg/s650/rose.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="436" data-original-width="650" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRbtfBQSHSX-530vCvW0lqjzblzWHmLj-m0QMPBJ-6EESGgDNckin1uo4PUP6Etsxly8OJOMJTvpPgzEqX1gMbcWc90O2P0BIzd2nn68NDOksSFxzFpi1OsdQRtmB7xpKND8BRvG0NvBvdoOtvqoFvkQONEOACB5HAJZK4h1JeAqGnUsTviPNbtmOzRg/s320/rose.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;">It's the quite of evening</div><div style="text-align: left;">as everything downshifts </div><div style="text-align: left;">to a slower beat.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">No place to be.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Someplace to stay.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Birds and bees have gone wherever they go,</div><div style="text-align: left;">silently waiting for tomorrow to take flight </div><div style="text-align: left;">again...to my dogs delight.</div><div style="text-align: left;">His needs so simple,</div><div style="text-align: left;">mine so complex,</div><div style="text-align: left;">I fear they are unmeetable....</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">until I look in my husbands eyes</div><div style="text-align: left;">and that way he strips the wallpaper I've hung in disguise,</div><div style="text-align: left;">the way he rids the garden of weeds</div><div style="text-align: left;">I've planted as flowers.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">He knows a rose from crabgrass,</div><div style="text-align: left;">so why this farce?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>I keep thinking I can get away with it.</i></div><p></p>Wine and Wordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06778785233226804217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3316020526036835406.post-73914860630407427812021-07-22T14:50:00.015-07:002022-10-07T15:01:07.632-07:00Teflon Brain<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo3SKLoKi6xNy37J2i0j15i93FM_YeOWTTC-oX6x5w2ixAETBkGVcx_KGZGO9IV35SvKgo2BOsb6-dStN7qpfOAVeGsx50zyKP3ThqATazXE82BNO-KnJ0Yp5PVfbnSGXuoH5zDR0yXuz-j_otR9YCtt86_3_lRXqP00bQ8fbC9L3vcamxSBG0eF3Pog/s325/teflon.webp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="212" data-original-width="325" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo3SKLoKi6xNy37J2i0j15i93FM_YeOWTTC-oX6x5w2ixAETBkGVcx_KGZGO9IV35SvKgo2BOsb6-dStN7qpfOAVeGsx50zyKP3ThqATazXE82BNO-KnJ0Yp5PVfbnSGXuoH5zDR0yXuz-j_otR9YCtt86_3_lRXqP00bQ8fbC9L3vcamxSBG0eF3Pog/s320/teflon.webp" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;">I am not a collector of memories.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">They are too slick.</div><div style="text-align: left;">A silicone layer surrounds each</div><div style="text-align: left;">that allows them to slide into oblivion</div><div style="text-align: left;">where they can't hurt me anymore.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">But this practiced skill...</div><div style="text-align: left;">lubricant of the mind...</div><div style="text-align: left;">sends with the avalanche, the good</div><div style="text-align: left;">important,</div><div style="text-align: left;">and meaningful.</div><div style="text-align: left;">But to subvert this skill</div><div style="text-align: left;">might mean death</div><div style="text-align: left;">or suffocation without death</div><div style="text-align: left;">on repeat</div><div style="text-align: left;">which is worse.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">So I beg your mercy</div><div style="text-align: left;">if your name escapes me.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">But I never forget a face....</div><div style="text-align: left;">falling into categories</div><div style="text-align: left;">good....or bad.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I just can't remember why.</div><p></p>Wine and Wordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06778785233226804217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3316020526036835406.post-3588089487604677412019-07-08T20:35:00.001-07:002019-07-08T20:35:06.901-07:00The Silence of WisdomThere used to be noise<br />
to fill the void.<br />
Like an audiophile I would collect<br />
the unspoken word<br />
and pipe it in as my own.<br />
But no one recognized the voice as mine.<br />
<br />
And when that fault cracked,<br />
wider than a Richter could measure,<br />
my thoughts became so loud.<br />
They argued,<br />
and the debate was more than I could stand.<br />
<br />
Like an audiophile I would collect<br />
song<br />
and sing it as my voice.<br />
But it pointed fingers and boasted things,<br />
untrue things.<br />
<br />
<i>Silence</i><br />
<i>Please...silence, solitude, peace</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
My world became soundless,<br />
because I made it so.<br />
I began to let the void be void<br />
and allow the quiet to listen,<br />
let the silence speak in settling tones<br />
you could fall asleep to.<br />
<br />
Soon the time came the time when silence<br />
had no need of infusion,<br />
because even the pregnant pause overflowed.<br />
Silence<br />
became the loudest thing,<br />
and in its eloquence...<br />
such wisdom.<br />
<br />
2-5-19Wine and Wordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06778785233226804217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3316020526036835406.post-29602707655818081232019-07-08T20:18:00.001-07:002019-07-08T20:35:21.223-07:00New Years DreadThere is a sense of dread<br />
like soot from the fireworks<br />
in wobbly descent,<br />
landing on my journal.<br />
<br />
I swipe at the mark<br />
and smudge the new page,<br />
once sharply white with dreams<br />
and unblemished with the disappointment of failure.<br />
<br />
The new year is presenting itself<br />
like an open book<br />
but my fear...my dread<br />
is that the same words will be penned again.<br />
<br />
Progress seems so marginal<br />
excludable<br />
and yet I wonder.<br />
We are only dead if we are stagnant,<br />
so therefore I must have moved,<br />
progressed.<br />
I am alive.<br />
<br />
My father is stagnant<br />
<i>dead</i><br />
and yet his heart<br />
beats another year<br />
into being.<br />
<br />
1-1-19Wine and Wordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06778785233226804217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3316020526036835406.post-69469495669548592412018-04-03T19:16:00.001-07:002018-04-03T19:16:23.983-07:00Guilt Pool<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc3kxSgHed8wN2ZV1glAYwM_XX99a6gnAo7moVvTNJyuMHQlifzJRE-m2lBCWhd-nyXBqpCyt0F2k9k0XtMf4jB1fU7RePQUqq_-Yn8ILzutlfOSL5gHYstloi2VLp7juYJ0_3IxVxZ1tl/s1600/Cannonball+splash.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="507" data-original-width="720" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc3kxSgHed8wN2ZV1glAYwM_XX99a6gnAo7moVvTNJyuMHQlifzJRE-m2lBCWhd-nyXBqpCyt0F2k9k0XtMf4jB1fU7RePQUqq_-Yn8ILzutlfOSL5gHYstloi2VLp7juYJ0_3IxVxZ1tl/s320/Cannonball+splash.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I see it shimmer in the distance</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">like a mirage I should aim for...</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">because I'm thirsty,</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">parched for that which I am so closely acquainted.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So far removed....the reflection is</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>beautiful!</b></span><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I know I'll see myself there...</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">as always, the familiar melancholy </span></i><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">of the guilty apologetic smile,</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">never reaching the eyes</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">until tears ripple the water and force the curve upwards.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I do not know a more powerful cement</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">than guilt.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It is the most heinous gift we can bestow,</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">and like lemmings...</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">we gift ourselves just as easily</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">(good little students that we are).</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today is different.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The mirage looks dark and deep,</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">not a surface reflection at all...</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">but bottomless.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Could it be worse that what I see</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">every time I trust a likeness to my eyes?</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I run</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">with the purpose of an athlete.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I jump with legs at full power,</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">crash down...cracking everything dusty</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">into the shrapnel of lies.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Even as I fall, I know this is better.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is honest, as honest as I can hear God tell it.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I reach the bottom expecting to drown there</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic;">"</span><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">deservedly</span></i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>"</i></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-style: italic;"> echoes.....echoes.....echoes...</span><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And it is the last lie,</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">because there is no more water here.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My plunge has displaced years, and years, and years,</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">ad now I trust the earth.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I stand on solid.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Why the hell had I only lived the surface before?</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Wine and Wordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06778785233226804217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3316020526036835406.post-21026800541834499572017-10-20T16:59:00.000-07:002019-07-25T09:17:40.128-07:00Post Era<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPZxdolb1Bze4AafcjnMeAIc2yMwst3CiSzNrfJN4B59oMN1vLa3JLIYUWyrvg6bDJZ-s1oqxzpZIbejPrGwLi333CjBzv_a3Mc8CGwTvD3EUkAO2SSXGUy51DRHPtSyE2wUDhc9Zq1LSJ/s1600/Bokisch+Oak.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="1512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPZxdolb1Bze4AafcjnMeAIc2yMwst3CiSzNrfJN4B59oMN1vLa3JLIYUWyrvg6bDJZ-s1oqxzpZIbejPrGwLi333CjBzv_a3Mc8CGwTvD3EUkAO2SSXGUy51DRHPtSyE2wUDhc9Zq1LSJ/s320/Bokisch+Oak.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
There is a car<br />
far in the distance,<br />
an after thought of sound.<br />
<br />
The birds have claimed this space<br />
this tree<br />
as home.<br />
<br />
What do they fear...<br />
the birds?<br />
Flight seems so easy<br />
unless you have legs.<br />
Then your feet leave prints<br />
and the floor boards creek<br />
and everyone knows<br />
you just aren't capable of stairs...<br />
<br />
You're sneaking out<br />
the best you can,<br />
but legs aren't wings<br />
and footfalls are so heavy and loud<br />
when you are carrying a body.<br />
<i><br /></i>
I tried to leave you everything...<br />
(but me).<br />
<br />
And that's the crux of it.<br />
<br />
I have driven a painful road,<br />
not unlike your own,<br />
just a pendulum swing away really...<br />
We're not so different<br />
but for my legs in flight.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Wine and Wordshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06778785233226804217noreply@blogger.com4