-->

--YESTERDAY THE CHURCH BELLS RANG, JUST FOR ME

…Hello, it’s me again, still trying to sort things out.  (I know: no surprise there.)

…The way a person compliments someone says a lot about the person doing the complimenting.  I mean a compliment can be the opposite of a compliment depending how it’s delivered.

…A reasonable system works because we’re not all crazy on the same day.  But then again, who’s to say what crazy really looks like?

…It’s not our business to judge people, and still we do it all the time.

…Today I kept writing the same poem, over and over, not getting anywhere, until I realized I was writing it with an eraser.

…Back then, most of the neighborhood kids thought I was a ghost, but their parents never stopped staring each time I walked by.  Either way it was creepy.

…If there’s a moment you wish you could return, I’ll take it and give you a full refund.

…All I can say is, thank God I have these stories.

…There are things I thought were horrific that turned out to be blessings instead, and there were blessings that later morphed into horrors I hadn’t expected.

…So why am I so afraid of falling when I mostly avoid going to any heights?

…Did I mention I’m bad at math, science, mechanics, cooking and a whole host of other things?

…I’ve been asked stranger things, but yes, my mother wanted a girl instead.

…Tonight, I’m on a raft to Mauritius.  The sky is new, the wind feels like a hug and I’m not even halfway there yet.

…Who hasn’t followed some invisible magic at one time or another?  Even children know the importance of that.  Especially children.   

…When you’re not the favorite and it’s made very apparent that you’re not, it’s easy to think you’ll never be anyone’s favorite, to shrink and shrink until you’re the size of a very puny jawbreaker.

…Even now, I am a sound that does not stop.  I say, “I can’t, I need, I want," and “Is there a god? And “Yes there is, but he’s just not listening right now.”  

…We all have our make or break moments.  Some of us end up taking home shiny new packages, while others of us take home a bag of shards.

…There are days when I feel braver than others, and it has nothing to do with rainfall and the direction of the wind.

…The days may be slow, but make no mistake: they’re following you.

…But you never know, people win the lottery all the time, babies are born every two seconds, and I once twirled in a hail storm without any shoes or socks on.

…Fire has a lot meaning for me.  The smell of it, how destructive it can be.  Sometimes fire is the answer even when it shouldn’t be.

…What if we traced the path of that boy all the way to adulthood?  Would we intervene?  Would we say, “Oh no, not that.  This.  This is what you should chose.”

…I have no doubt there are many days when my body would like to tell me to go to hell.

…The mountains don’t care about their names, nor do the rivers or lakes or oceans.  Why then are we so particular?

…Each night a little piece of me got filched, but little by little I’ve been sewing myself back together, and since I don’t sew, that’s why I walk somewhat stilted.

…Blame can be placed wherever, but it’s not going to change anything.  What happened, happened.  End of story.

…What’s it feel like to have everything inside you intact?  Just give me a picture of that, please.

…Liar moon, you with your severed head.  You ask but never answer.  How fair is that?

…We always find something to give us the impression we exist.

…Sometimes the net that keeps me from plummeting starts to fray and sag and there’s not much I can do about it.

…Here’s one of life’s most important questions that doesn’t get answered enough: “Do you want to be right, or do you want to be happy?”

…Sometimes wanting to help is really just the sunny side of control.

…When they tell you it’s a small world, don’t believe them.  Most of the time, it’s the biggest thing out there.

…Nothing in the world sounds like crushed ice.  Nothing in the world is the pink color of that drink you were holding.

…Light is bad at changing its mind, so it continues to tumble in the same direction, the way I continue to pummel this keyboard.

…There’s so much to be afraid of, so much to gaze at and be wrong about.

…I’m never capable of holding onto the very things that could save me.

…Tonight, I’m betting on Cabernet again.

…Dear God,

If you have a bored angel sitting around somewhere with nothing to do, would you mind sending them here?

Thank you.

--I NEED SOMEONE ON DAYS LIKE THIS, I DO.

…If you could trace my life backwards from today, you’d arrive in a world much colder and thinner.  The younger version of me is a boy who speaks very little.  He’s in fourth grade.  That kid is wary of the other kids, but drawn to the teacher—a woman who reads stories to the class to end every afternoon.  Watch how she reads.  What flies from those pages, if not some kind of sparks?

…Stay silent, stay alive, was the motto back then, and it mostly worked.

…The thing is, it didn’t look like what it felt like on the inside.

…Maybe it’s God I’m wrestling with, or maybe a python has me in its jaws.

…I’m every car that’s ever been idled, a motorcycle gulping its own exhaust, lurching toward open road.

…Some people like a little danger with their tea.  I just prefer it hot.

…If you’re so happy, why do I hear you pacing across your room, night after night?

…The frustrating thing about cages is that you’re trapped but you can see exactly what you want.  You can reach out from the cage, but only so far.

…Sometimes you’ve just got to wake the fuck up, you know?

…When a poem is doing its job, something bends inside you.

…Please give me a listening face. 

…I love being a witness more than a perpetrator.

…The why of things is often complicated and a little slippery.

…Babies are cute because they’re pretty helpless.  You have to love them through their helplessness.

…It is a hell of a thing to miss somebody and to have them miss you back.

…All things considered, I have a reasonable sense of humor in the right circumstances.

…Whoever told you not to look at this is hiding something, because the world is beautiful, haunted, and begging you to receive its offering.

…I knew I was like the other kids until my best friend said, “No, you’re not.”

…Sometimes when a wave of energy is interrupted, it reverses its direction, hits a wall, and turns back with nothing. 

…I am one-half something.  One part stained glass window.  One part waterfall.

…Where’s a nail gun when you need one?

…I, too, have a hand that pushes against a wall, that searches for a seam.

…Yes, I know the Lord’s Prayer, how to change a tire if I have to, how to disappear.

…Everyone knows gears are supposed to turn, but we forget their teeth, that to pull they must bite into each other.

…Sometimes, regardless of your circumstances, you’ve got to say, Hallelujah anyway.

…I know the math, and that’s why I’m always holding onto the hope of tomorrow.

—THINGS ONLY GO AWAY

                                              Step In.  Step Closer.

         I have been kissing your dusty ghost again, sucking on that dry, parchment paper tongue, looking through your sockets and holes, slow dancing with your rickety skeleton while the bones clatter like dull wind chimes no one would bother hanging.

I wish you would look at me the way I’m staring at you.  Yes, it’s true, I’m a little loopy on Cabernet, maybe hallucinating some, picturing you in white, stepping on that too-long train your mother tried to convince you not to wear.  But you look ravishing again, my one and only bride.

In a moment, we’ll cut the cake, each of us with one hand clasped over the spatula, slicing careful so as to miss the miniature bride and groom.  I’ll smear the pedal of a frosting rose on your nose, lick it off quick, but your father will notice and shoot me a disapproving look.

But for now, let’s just dance, let’s sway.  It’s been too long since I’ve held you like this.

Step in.  Step closer.  The hole in the back of your skull hasn’t healed, that’s okay.  It never will, so I cover it with my palm and place your head on my shoulder, gentle as a newborn.

Let everyone gawk if they want.  They don’t know you’re not dead.  They don’t know we’ve got a full night, a full life ahead of us.  Only I know that.

            WARNING LABELS FOR ORDINARY PEOPLE

Brother says, We are ordinary people.  He says this as he chews on the dog’s tonsils, squirting purple juice between his teeth. 

Older Sis is making a shrunken head from little Sis’s body.  She’s boiling the head in a kettle on the stove that keeps farting foul air and hissing like a snake.

Dad is writing warning labels on his pupils with an ice pick.  BEWARE OF DOG.  HOT SURFACE, DO NOT TOUCH.  WATCH YOUR HANDS AND FINGERS.

Mom is making lasagna with feta cheese layered over ruffled pasta sheets, and in between those, equal parts lacerated postman and old boyfriend who shouldn’t have shown up yesterday.

Me, I’m writing a horror story about a family so tortured by life that they have to sleep for hours at night, evening after evening, still as mummies.