June 2015


Now

that language has forgotten me and my errors

mirror those of my father

no more need for upper case soon

no more need for letters at all

i love the way he calls me sal

My memory serves what it needs to

to carry me to the deepest places

that don’t require syntax or punctuation

Now

that poverty has become

a habit

i rebel against my own insistence of anything

refine what can’t be glanced at and forgotten

and pull weeds from your garden

now

that I’ve lost all hope in my being what will

draw the perfect “partner” i bridge to

the healing respect has to offer

and friendship sweetened

each time you call me

sal

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I spend the day traversing my mind

questions repeating

fabric of existence under scrutiny

Convinced if only I could get past this need for

words…

Two hours of walking and bus wondering

What is it that I am doing with this life?

The why am I here’s and

Will I ever be enough.

Then I sit in the kitchen

Sun through sky light and a distant window

Then shadow so inviting

In a stranger’s home and

This home knows know stranger.

Longing stranded

When the light comes again

Down the hall way with the sounds of crickets

and silence

PulsingĀ  across pots and pans

Cutting boards and

Memory.