I have been working through the power of two ordinary words–insubstantial and last.
Sometimes the forms we use to write can seem arbitrary or essential–poetry might be either feint or love song, prose the empassioned plea or the ordinary transmission of thought.
So to have two words with such strong ties to poetry and be stuck in prose seems remedial.
Remedial. Another place to dwell in the in-between.
Last is powerful.
It is either the end or the enduring.
While insubstantial could be a sum of cash, a minor wound, a flimsy shelter in the wind.
Or it could be the kite by which we see the strength of wind.
The papery thin construction of human meaning.
The space of a commercial on tv.
I will still abide with these two words, still puzzle over their highest use.
Prose until I can adequately distill ordinary nourishers into
I have a friend who punctuates correspondence with the lovely benediction–know you are loved.
Elegant, but a bit abstract for some of us.
I love you–more direct, but can you believe me?
Sometimes celebrity can be a strong drug. Knocking out some of our healthy need for solitude, privacy, anonymity, and humility.
When you lost the fight with Holms I grieved with you. Her win was methodical and clearly well-thought out. But some of us love you for your slugger’s heart.
You did not need to hide your scars on the way home. We all have them.
Glory in the well-earned blows.
But watch out for the body paint. SI has been treating legit female athletes like sex doll pin-ups for years. Playing to the testosterone of their average-joe readers is not good enough anymore.
Women like you deserve to have the paint of your fame be in each well-fought achievement.
Not your sex appeal.
Keep your clothes on and fight girl. Know you are loved.
love don’t say
Love plays for keeps
Wraps itself around the words and places where you been
Leaves the have out on purpose
Because when you were young, you…
But when you are old you will..
Know this loss
Feel what it is
To not be found
Without you, Girl
I owe you a writing assignment. Clear diction, even sentences.
I give you loose
Words spilled together on the floor of my anger
Over forms I filled out long ago
A victim’s impact statement
Should never just get
Flutter to the ground through exploded sky
Drift down in a mute opera of
Is when the antagonist
That is such a simple thing
You throw a rock through
A stranger’s window
Draw lines of
What we forgive and what cannot be
Forgiven is such strong
In the prayer of a child
There is anger and confusion
What God? What Prophet?
You look among these spent and bloody stones
I know he is gone, full flight
And we will all
Rise, birds in flight
In this winter-dark sky
I plant the tree
In sight of the house
Hoping it will ease
The pain of losing you
I look to it
As the winter wind sweeps in
To wrap a deep
Through the storm
This is when I know for certain
A tree is not a child
No marker, nor even
thing with living roots
Can supplant you
My lost daughter
Only fragments of an old, old story
about tears, feet, hair and costly perfume
Broken, poured out
This loss between us
And what he is willing
To pay to bring you,
so much processed sugar
And make up, bath soaps
You name it–
Well meaning people trying
To fill a void with empty giving
Insulin shots and loneliness
To gap a story so unsparing
God born in a barn
(Is bad enough)
But what is up with putting a
Newborn in a trough?
Trough? Your voice rising to the question
Why a trough?
No downy blankets here
Most unlikely place for an infant
Amidst the crap
That is where so many ordinary children are born
And die amidst the squalor of a loveless world
A Light shines for all of us
Not an easy path
From dung to gold
But more like alchemy
Tiny child born
To make treasure
Out of all our crap.
we ate at this amazing burger joint tonight
After slogging through a day of wandering and
Words less crafted than sold
The last two burgers
Did not appear
Did not appear
Our server came over to say
I took the last two burgers off your bill
They are coming
But something happened to slow them up in the kitchen
A quiet storm…
Huh, I thought
All those empty words all day
And here she is