Posts
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Writer's Curse
You are a student of a language, warping butter-like words on your tongue.
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I Miss my Grandmother's House
She died when I was twelve
and I still miss her house
with a VHS copy of Cinderella too precious to shelve
She died when I was twelve
and I know it's best not to dwell
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Advent Candles
winter
traditional
candles on the table
Advent is here in flame and fire
It's warm.
winter
transitional
Christmas films on cable
Advent light now frames the foyer
It's warm.
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A Haiku and a Realization
Free verse poetry
overtakes the English tongue
beautiful but sad
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The Beginning
And then there were Two.
There was Nothing and there were Two and they were not in love. Love was not a thing yet, there was Nothing.
One said to the other, "I've discovered I can say words."
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At least I'm writing
I need to write.
God, do I.
It's been days, with no click of the keys
to write out simple stories, poems, words
things that will never see the light of day
but I still love.
Loves
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On Forgiving the Dust In My Piano
Dear daughter of Earth,
I am not naked, rose-lipped, chapped and chaste in a poetic caste and silhouetted erotically before sunset and starlight like the Thinker gazing across foreseeable perpetuity. -
Gaslighting in the Medical System: The Darkside of Mental Health Awareness
I am eight. I sit across from my mom in my pediatrician’s office on the paper-covered table. The paper is crinkled and uncomfortable. My mother’s head is cupped in her hands as the pediatrician leaves the room.
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Remembrance
Cracked pavement tells the story that time refuses to forget.
And while tree roots weave their way underneath the ashen pavement,
Time is dripping away from me.
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Assumptions
I hate the fact that so many people make assumptions.
About me.
The “fact” that because I have hearing aids means that I am deaf.
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Case files
It didn’t occur to me, not on the first day, or the second
* * *
If you asked me to describe the job
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My Faith
I’ve never been religious much —
My Faith is in the trees.
The sort of Lord I worship flies among the Bumblebees.
And my idea of Heaven is buried ‘neath Her leaves —