Something Wise

You’re growing up in the future.

A future of

self-truth

and plastic

and maidens

waiting for roses

and others

waiting for justice.

I’m scared

and I’m proud

and I’m sorry

that we left things this way

for you.

Beauty and wit

and stories and

determination,

some from your mother

another bit from me

and you’ll do fine

If I had to say

something wise

it’d be this,

“Apologize only for what you do,

and not for who you are.”

But remember,

we’re the ones

who got you into this mess.

Sea Level Rise

All these poems about tits 

and getting laid while 

Paul Simon sings 

about oppression and justice. 

Outrage 

and your personal crusade 

are going to get us killed. 

Maybe in the next week 

maybe in the next year 

maybe when the next guy takes office. 

So try to spend some time 

between the sheets 

before the sea level rises 

above the duvet 

and the kids’ college fund. 

You can take up arms 

or take up drinking, 

but in the end these rich guys 

will have nicer caskets 

than all of us. 

Jimmy

Paul had a girl named Andrea

and he pitched us a plan.

Jimmy gave me a look

that said, "bad idea."

He was always a cautious cat until he wasn't. 

Paul and I talked him into it. 

We turned on to Andrea Lane and Jimmy backed the truck right up under the street sign. 

Paul tried to pry the sign off

He pushed and pulled and pushed and pulled.

Jimmy and I were good for nothing. 

We couldn't reach it.

We sorta kept a lookout.

Paul finally got it loose

and Jimmy drove like a scalded dog in that little Toyota pickup. 

We got some late night breakfast and laughed and laughed, reveling in our victory. 

Jimmy's gone now. 

A monster got him. 

And who can defeat a monster?

Jimmy tried and then went to be with God. 

I didn't make it to his funeral. 

I think Paul went.

Maybe Danny made it.

I had something but then again we've all got something,

a lost dog, a busted air conditioner, the kid's first Girl Scout meeting, 

an aging Grandmom, a selfish fear of death, or some other dragon

that prevents us from saying goodbye to a friend.

Jimmy was my good friend. 

A Well Written Tribute to Jennifer Frey

I didn't know her.  I do remember the stories of locker room harassment of female reporters.  This piece by Dave McKenna about former Washington Post sports writer, Jennifer Frey, is really poignant.  It forced me to hold back tears as I read it at work.  Linking it here because it deserves to be read and maybe a handful of people will find it who otherwise wouldn't have.


The Writer Who Was Too Strong To Live

Disregarding the Laws of Science

She took her wings and ran
with a diamond in one ear
and another lost in her makeup kit.

I smoked a cigarette
as if I were Joe Friday
and wondered if three weeks
in her life made any difference,
difference being the answer to division,
and indifference, her way of showing it.

She fell in and out of my tumultuous dreams
disregarding the laws of science
and flew out of reach

I discovered the meaning of time,
that time is relative, relatively short,
and wasted time catches up to you.

Enabling

The slit of your skirt
enabling the perfection
of the surface
of your skin

Little water
enabling the
scenario
of my hand
on the perfection
of the surface
of your skin

Loneliness
enabling a little more
and that little more
enabling regret.

The Meaning of It All

There is a glue in my brain
helping me keep my shit together

Sometimes words make love in there
and sentences are formed

Sometimes they collide, explode,
or run away
and her doe eyes
tell me I've injured a beautiful creature

Sometimes words lie in wait
like childhood monsters
so I jump away from the bed
for fear that they will grab hold
of my legs

Brain, glue, words
Grain, whobirds
Wrainbluegourds
Blandwoolgirls