Gratitude
This early morning, patio stones under my naked feet, then up the deck stairs, then the humid air, the sudden inhalation of spring honeysuckle. I don’t hurt anymore. #KatherinesCoffeehouse
For Sale by Owner
Now I’m thinking of sellouts – two or three suits in office chairs, afraid to spin or roll, even on waxed, white floors that beg for it. There’s a man with several chins, bound by tight collar and tie, squeezing everything up, like temperature or blood pressure. How he doesn’t choke is a freaking miracle.
Ant
In all seriousness, I love ants. Not in the house, per se, but on a sidewalk or grass blade, or how about a dandelion stem? Just an ant, carrying, what? Ten times its weight? Eighty times? Eight hundred times? Who cares. Look at the beaded thing, an ambulatory speck of necklace, shred of leaf in
Harsh Winter
Lovers are two noses, tips touching in the cold, “Eskimo kisses,” (as the Inuit roll their eyes). But follow me here. Skin meeting skin, the heat of breath exchanged, the winged smoke that flies from sighs in January air – those are the things that turn your belly inside out. Until you’ve rubbed each other
I Was Just Thinking…
Where is poetry, if not in soft snow, slipping slowly from a crying sky, releasing its babies, like we do, when they’re ready to fly? #KatherineCoffeehouse
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Stepping Out
Have you ever stepped out on that wide first step, the landing, the top one, looked down like you were on a ledge and said, “That’s a long, steep way. Better hold the railing”? That’s called getting old. We used to slide down the stairs, butts bumping against the edges, turning carpet into a slide,
Before Thanksgiving
Weird weather tonight, warm November, with a moaning wind that makes the dogs a little nutty. They stiffen their ears, tilt their heads, like something’s about to happen, all of us waiting for meaning to emerge from the darkness. #KatherinesCoffeehouse
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August 17, 2017 After Charlottesville
Ten years ago, I called them Nazis. It just kind of came out, you know? I’d climbed beyond angry – how could they be so mean, making hate a public policy? I really didn’t know the old ghosts I’d disturbed. I was told to shut up. For my own good, they said. But I was
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Pop
Adderall forces a mind to its knees like a hostage. But it never worked that way for me. See, I’m a multi-tasker, which means I get very little done a day unless I sit for hours (or at least until my butt hurts). Laugh if you want. I’m part of a trend – procrastination nation.
On Call
Pain is an aging police officer. It sleeps lightly, still on call. It moves slowly sometimes, especially in the morning, when it slides its legs over the side of the bed, puts sore feet on the floor, and stands. But it always carries a pistol.