Shadows dancing on the floor so hypnotic
making the surface just beyond something
demonic to my senses, so violently erotic –
is this what they call instinct, basic being?
I can smell them just beyond, sweaty greed –
blinded by their justification and reasoning
willing in ignorant torture my hate to feed
each abusive act revenge nurturing
The cruel is that hold me captive, a Wild –
at most my sin is short and sweetly
drank up by coat, eyes, skin, or child –
release your spirit, surrender weakly
My ivory teeth stained pink –
it only took one miss-key
yet what the people must think –
watching me kill so greedily
They don’t know why
how I’ve been pained
it’s all a vicious lie
no joy possibly gained
My baby, my baby!
They took her from me!
Help me maybe?
Where is she?!
they’re coming
all of them
keep hiding
find a den
find it
the exit
light –

a plunge isn’t comfy
get naked first:
you cannot fail if the goal is failing
you also cannot succeed –

what may come from chance

can’t be said until it’s had –

certainty came in
its death

the more rolled in

after the more rolled in
life – successive moments
dissolved into memory

we each bled our blood

read truth at the core –
thousands drop
to the dirt.

a risky business:
fortune favors those who dare –

I love writing
mostly because I hate it
it drives me crazy
in that way – underneath
the skin and bones
poking at my spirit and soul
it makes a ruckus
it’s trying to escape
I want it to
I need it too
I feel I’ll suffocate
or perhaps implode
melt into a nothingness
suddenly be gone
I don’t know
even after I’ve written
it’s never done, never over
torrential downpour
the river flows on
it kills people too
it kills me
I’m always drowning
sometimes in bliss
otherness –
I just don’t know

I feel I’ve largely disappeared lately, so perhaps it’s time for an update? Thoughts aren’t thinking themselves, like they usually do, as I sit here pondering the last 7 weeks… They make poetry instead:


“How precious the days
we forget to count
before they have gone

How precious the love
we take for granted
until it’s passed us by

How precious the joy
we refuse to feel
when it becomes pain

Precious indeed these:
tattered and torn lives
of our imperfect heroes”

It was a late night at the hospital again… Grandma has been in the hospital 3 times now since the start of June and it’s been scary. She’s become the main focus of my life these past 4 years. Seeing her ill and fragile, my life-long hero, has in many ways been demoralizing and yet, it’s also awaked an ever-more deepness to my appreciation and love for her.

I haven’t wanted to do much, I feel anxious when I’m not at home, and my attachment to her manifests much of my latent agoraphobia, though now with her as a kind of proxy for my justifications… It doesn’t have words, only feelings – like deep sadness twisted up in barbed wire.

I’ve also felt an incredible exhaustion take hold, more for underlying and ongoing stress than for physical exertion, and it has bitter lining – just like my depression used to. It’s made me feel frustrated and defeated. Yet, things are so different now.

Being here, taking care of grandma the past 4 years, has given me the opportunity to get to know myself, my demons as well as my strengths. I can feel anxious, I can feel depressed, I can feel overwhelmed – but these things don’t own me anymore. I’ve taken my power back.

My life isn’t perfect. It’s hard and stressful, I get sad and angry, but none of that means my life isn’t beautiful, glorious and blessed too. I’m making it valuable, I’m infusing it with meaning, I am appreciating it – every moment – even, and especially, the hard ones.

Grateful to have grandma home, again. So yes, I am good. Things aren’t simple, but I am not defeated – even if the victory is slow-won and I emerge from the battle wounded and bleeding…