march 18
it's a new day
a new dawn

not the best of mornings for a rant
on every level but one

but here i am
bucket-coffee in hand
blurry glasses on my face;

march 5

she wanted us to break the rules so she could succeed
turns out my decisions are not catching up to me
mardi gras was a good day
my pocket book will get fatter tomorrow
bye bye, job hunting,
hello, job.


ya, i'm starting to wonder if all of my decisions are catching up to me

february 21

there is a list i could talk about today
a list of lists
growing inside of me
one frustration atop another

yet i hate to rant in here
i prefer a solace space
quiet contemplation
and reflection

my mother played a role
to the tune of a hundred percent
and then the sixties came
and cracked a hole in the role
so i could be free
so i could be me
but who am i

i can tell you who i am
i am free to sit here under six blankets
staring into a screen
wondering what my daughter will be doing at fifty three
in a world with no roles to hold her up
no imperatives
no beds to be made
since we stay in them
all day

sunday today

with a million things i cannot say
i search between the folds
for something
i can.

i can throw a huge veil over the entire thing
and poke holes in the thin parts
and what would i see
yes i see love
in fact
i do

so how can the microscopic lens even matter
yet oh, there i am, in the corner, watching,
sensors who don't even know they are sensors
run about and save the world
while this ENTJ has opted for thinking
and writing
about nets

the sensors run around
indeed there is carrot cake
indeed the kitchen cleaned
but no one is watching
but me.


it is a lifetime battle
to accept the ups and downs
of a lifetime


February fifteen friday

trying to keep the screen close enough to focus
without getting a stiff neck
i'm massaging my feels with Kacey Musgraves and her rainbow song
rainbows have made a comeback
in my lifetime...

her voice takes me away from the here and now:
from the heat of the spinning fan in my lap
from the piles of clothing strewn around the house
from the solid air that i wait through for emails
from the dreams of a funeral for a man who wasn't yet gone...

FEBruary 4

wednesday wednesday. stick. please stick.
i want to throw this one at the wall and watch it stick.
then i want to take everything i've learned and make it grow.

it's empty space and time for now:
me, my laundry, her plastic bags,
and contemplation.

i ask a philosophical question but no one sees it.
everyone sees bags. bags bags everywhere.

february 4

monday morning is a whirlwind of sticking:
something has stuck for now:
a brain tries not to move too quickly:
for a brain which always moves too fast:

this is my extroverted thinking:
where my brain writes things down:
so i know they occurred:
and i can move forward
with too much thinking:

a weekend on memory foam:
left my brain foamy:
but my body continued
over ice and snow