democracy calls

whenever i hear of protests in the streets of the world, people screaming for what they believe in, my heart excites. and then frustration sets in.

our nation, built upon voices of dissent, relishes some of the most lavish lifestyles in the world. with these lifestyles comes a false feeling of satiation. and i firmly believe that this sense of satiation is what leads us to placation. let our voices be heard. let the state of the union not fall on cynical ears. let the words of those in power call us to action. we are not being provided for. we are all struggling in ways to make our lives better. let those struggles unify us. call us to make change, serve our communities, and do what is best for us. so that we may have a future to give.

3:30

rays of sun hit the side of my palm as i hold my tea cup at the kitchen table.

the shadow of the Hoya is broken by the corner of the wall.

and out the window the trees shadows on the hillside mark the snow in rays of grays and purple.

my houseplants dream of warm water on their leaves and i, of the sun on my naked skin.

the warmth of my tea cup seems futile in my dream as i sit in the silence of the cold.

january so far...

i broke the fall up the cellar stairs with my ribs.

tucked under my right breast a bruise light green and severe emerges. it doesn't explain the pain.

and then the snow fall brings on shoveling. i can't shovel. it's too damn painful.

i bought newspapers for ten dollars

at cvs this morning i paid $10.00 for two newspapers.

i took the book review out of the Times and slid it into my purse for later.

after 3/4's of a bottle of carmenere and a few cigarettes

i read it cover to cover.

except the paperback best sellers.

i did it.

i read the book review.

finding roots

photos albums strewn.

emotions thick with dust stir.

its me in all those photographs. in all those places far and long away.

i have been here hidden under layers of loss. retreating from myself and who i have become.

or who i have said i am.

a smile crosses my heart as i realize that i have me. that perhaps i am not lost.

or forgotten.

that i have the parts to put me back together.

that the roots of me are still alive. dormant but alive.

i have only to give them nutrients and i will begin to grow.

once again blossom.

and this time, i will not push myself into what i think i am. i will feel my way tentatively as a root slowly unfurls its awesome potential into new thick soil.

once a month

my thoughts make it onto a page.

not often enough.

with no cohesion or context. they float. from me into oblivion.

with no one to read or understand them i wonder of purpose. and intent.

as if perhaps a story may emerge withering on the white of the page.

a thread i can follow. or pull out of seam in my consciousness.

i've been waking up in the morning saturated by her presence in my dreams. and yet i haven't kissed her.