regarding
your prior correspondence
it is with deep regret
that I must ask you
kindly
to eat glass;
[delete draft]
love notes
a ritual to start the work week
love notes
a ritual to start the work week
to choose means
means to choose
to move to make
ends meet their maker
stand fall try fail take
the necessary risk
the waiting step
that waits for none
but you for you
alone took steps
that you alone
could take awaited
the choice made
made the choice
to make now move
love notes
a ritual to start the work week
My eyes droop; yellow
over-watered leaves wait to
widen in the sun.
When, we wonder, will
the clouds loosen their grip? Jaws
clutch what they can’t have.
Hair on fire, hoping
for hoses from who knows where.
Fall finds us slipping.
love notes
a ritual to start the work week
Trees blaze above our harvest feast, a bustling array, glowing in the pale light of the cool half-moon.
A chill whispers through arching branches, stripped to the bark, proud and brazen, outside our twinkling windows.
Our hands squeezed into a gentle knot, glimmers of green poke at the warming blue sky, leaning in toward the sun’s pursed lips.
Laughter rustles under umbrellas raised against rain and heat, our bare toes toppling toadstools growing among thick roots.
love notes
a ritual to start the work week
stand for life
when the world wants spectators
stand for life
arms taken up and blown apart
stand for life
rivers teem with crossings
stand for life
in craters in canyons
stand for life
as the ground tips underfoot
stand for life
and the glory of creation
stand for life
whispered bedside prayers
stand for life
cupped hands and soft skin
stand for life
the stitch the song the simmer
stand for life
eye crease and furrowed brow
stand for life
how every line becomes
love notes
a ritual to start the work week
Awe strikes me
like a match—a
flash of brilliance, a
sudden warmth—before
settling down to a
cooler flame, ready to
pass from stick to
wick like a morning
glory vine reaching
across a chain-link fence.
love notes
a ritual to start the work week
You’re ready.
You’ve mulled and meditated
and considered your options.
You’ve weighed and waited.
You've bit your lips
and slid your right thumbnail
under the nail of your pointer
about a billion times.
You’ve wondered what if
the worst happens
or something just bad enough
or if there’s a chance
even the very slightest
that this will lead
unalterably
to your untimely demise.
But it’s time.
Now go, love,
and live.
love notes
a ritual to start the work week
It’s so easy, isn’t it,
to clutch the cloudy
cloak around our necks,
hunched and hooded,
hiding in the rain,
and forget the sun,
as if it isn’t still
shining just there,
as if it won’t ever
warm our skin again,
as if Annie, after
belting it out every night,
snickered and whispered
“suckers” under her breath,
as if we didn’t have
a light all our own,
just as constant,
just as warm.
love notes
a ritual to start the work week
Not to speak ill of our elders—
like Summers
like O’Hara
like King and Khan—
but have you tried
taking a sip of something hot
before raising your gaze
to your adversary and
pointing out the sharpness
of their tone
or
blinking once slowly and
eversoslightly tilting your head
like a confused dog wondering
how it could possibly be
that this motherlover doesn’t see
the wolf that sits before them
able at any moment to leap
teeth flashing
and tear out their jugular.
love notes
a ritual to start the work week
build chords toward
a higher plane / hold
the line / level up / be
all / eat / prey / slay bae
live / pro / gress / ion / al
love notes
a ritual to start the work week
We hold our hopes so feverishly,
first the flush, then blanch of our fingers.
We forget their fragile bones. They crunch
in our fists—wee ribs puncturing lungs
that would breathe deep purples in our souls
if we let them grow. Loosen our grip
and we find their crumpled forms bounce back
like petals unfolding, wings unfurled,
buds and breasts refilling and readied
as our knuckles regain their color.
love notes
a ritual to start the work week