No Stone Left Behind

May 14

No Stone Left Behind

An anchor attaches at the lower extremities stabilizing me, an albatross is the thing weighing me down from the top, it tips me, throws me to the ground.  I must remember to choose ferrous instruments over long necked birds.  Often it’s not the amount of drag, but where it’s affixed.  There are so many variables, so much to think through, yet I often react and pick up what seems as harmless as a flock of sea gulls and turns out to be worse than an iron maiden. Leaving no tern unstoned is bad, but do I really have the time to do it the other way around?

Visualize the vapor trails from your words as they fly away from you

*

CLOCKS

When the clock stops

I wind it up or replace the battery

I have to-----time doesn’t end

Because the arms grow slow.

The device wears down

But the day is not over

Even if my internal metronome is bollixed

The planets keep revolving.

I can’t step off the world

It doesn’t stop turning for me

I don’t always have to keep my head up

But I must always go on.

There is no going back

I can only remember yesterday

I can’t return to it though it’s so close

The flowers are still fresh.

Sometimes I struggle

To keep my hands off the past

Those are the days I secure my future

And wind the clocks

Alone in a NewWay

June 25

ALONE IN A NEW WAY

I am restored.  I have my sanity like a spring coat.  I am not sure I need it but it’s nice to have nevertheless.  I prayed for this state of reason believing it would give me entry to a world where I was a late arrival.  Much to my chagrin I have found myself obscenely early to a party I am no longer sure will ever take place.  I stand in the entrance hall and practice new dance steps.  I search the space for prospective partners but rarely see anyone who is swaying to the same beat.  I am grateful for my sanity even if I have to enjoy it alone.

Write a sassy letter and let it dance.

*

I am Not an Island

Upon finding myself alive

I decided to throw my life back into the sea.

I was not living on this dry and sandy shore.

The baking sun does nothing to improve me.

I was belched forth onto the beach,

but never belonged there.

I tried to see myself as evolving,

tried desperately to sprout some legs.

Sucked air through my gills and attempted to sing.

I am not ready for this today.

Perhaps this is my future,

the way the current will carry me that I cannot  tell.

I do know I need the water on my scales

and pressure in my lungs right now.

I do not know what tomorrow brings

Or what I am capable of

just that I will not fault myself

for not having been born a dove.