Close call

It was a close call
on the telephone
sometimes words are like lemmings
and I should have known
we were horseshoes and hand grenades
but you were so afraid
you know you were about to fall

 but it was a close call...

 It was a close call
like fight or flight
c'mon over a little closer
are you afraid of heights?
horseshoes and hand grenades
don't look down, don't be afraid
you were about to fall
 but it was a close call...

 if you want to play it safe, baby
you may be slow on the uptake maybe
we could settle down, don't look down
you could hit the ground
you could fall...

 but it was a close call...

having had

When Love and Doubt meet,
They embrace awkwardly,

each disappointed in the other.
Love is disappointed that Doubt is where she thought another love was.
Doubt is disappointed that Love is not what she thought Love was.
And so, they embrace gingerly,
as if the other were a porcupine

"Is that yours or mine,
my little porcupine?"
"Cuddle in close...
I want to feel. your. spines."

Love and Doubt have a knack for having had...

having had an office key, a job, a car, a home, a love...

she dusts herself off, and,
in bafflement, asks, "What happened?"
The world is her oyster,
but what is that?

She has a knack for having had...
...but never cared for shellfish.

April 5, a tuesday

tacos, a sliver
of moon, a balmy day turned
cold night, and a ride home

darkest days of december

i wrote this poem a little over a year ago:

in the darkest days of december
the sun
a last dying ember
silhouettes of the leafless trees
along the mountain skyline, like
the hem of a nightgown trimmed with lace
i long for love,
this place,
just one little taste
the darkest days...

i remember.

everything will get lighter and lighter
after this star-laced night
(i remember)
everything will get better and better
(you)
like new
when we get through the darkest days of december.

sometimes words are like lemmings

i try to say what i mean
but sometimes words are like lemmings
tears in the telephone

be raucous with me.
let's be sentient.
i could say hackneyed, corny things
but i like being different.

a heart can be a home.
i think so,
i'll go where you go.
Whither?

in praise of chaos

all tends toward chaos,

hibernating thoughts and
mementos shoved under the couch,
evolving to sweet nostalgic discoveries

here's to the fresh spontaneity
of chaos
the penchant for entropy
the mystery
the unknown
the surprise
of careening about on this globe,
sometimes bumping into one another
oh... hello....
how sheepish. how sloppy and silly and utterly endearing.

we are like little orphans, like wide-eyed babies gazing about in wonder unable to control our excretions

and no matter how hard we try to
keep out the beasties
dust bunnies and slips of paper
to simplify
to organize
to pare down to the basics,
there are too many things to enjoy and to love
and really the world just wants to
give us little surprises
like morning glories and mulberry bushes
and uninvited guests

so many good ideas one has while sweeping the floor
the mundane would just be
mundane
if it weren't for the surprises
under the bed
in the backyard
in outer space (who knows?)

chaos
is much better than we think
embrace the overwhelming suchness
the quantity of matter
and space
and love
and moments

be thankful.
that
nothing is just so.
there is a logic and an order and an openness
to living
in chaos:
receptive:
innocence:
open:
the only rule is loving and being loved.

That vernal wind

When I feel that vernal wind
You know I'm gonna bend,
bend but not break.
I got this feeling I can't shake.
I got this dogged question rising in me:
How much happiness can you make?
When I feel that warm breath, that north-bound wind
I will bend, ripple like the golden fields,
but, honey, I will not break.

Something's comin' my way,
I heard it rustlin' up from behind
And I can turn and stand
meet this big wind in the middle
let it wash across my face,
toss my head,
breath in and bellow out,
smoke will rise, i will fall
but i will not break at all
i will not break at all.