melting melting – April 17


melting, melting, winter

melting except

that it’s a month too late

and the birds who snuck

north now cluster around

feeders like mother’s teats

lest the chill take them



sun like august, ground for

february, dateline april

all unwound.


when we walked out to

get the car it slid out

from under us, feet

moving in all directions

from where we trod;


I watched a bird peck

at whatever it could find

on the porch, anything that

even made believe that it wasn’t



I think I’ll just wait

and see if sanity returns

before I do.


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word turns – March 3


the words took a left turn

on me today, my brain

seeing them but not



what does that one mean

when do I take it,

pills, pills, the grouping

that grows


as one thing then

another goes twink

and we get another



lying there my mind

seizes up. which is

which; I can read



but not understand

the order that they

follow. these two

then those two


or was it those other

two, or this and that

combination, oh



dear Lord, maybe this

is a foretaste of how

it might be when

when, when….

or soon, or now, or..


I’m not ready.

but then

we never are.


for all our lives

we must trust

le bonne Dieu.


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missing the box – March 26


Old cat Rosie

is missing the box

piddles on the floor

poops on the carpet.


Catzeimer’s, the vet

says, her skinnier

everyday body

letting go.


Honor thy father

and mother we’ve

been told, so that

our days may be long


So that we are not put down

or out when we too

have forgotten

where to aim.


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the angels have come back – March 22


the angels have come back

although they hadn’t

really gone


just out of my mind

until I needed to get

close, and the divine


felt so far away, and

then they were there.




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squirrel footprints – March 19


squirrel footprints up the creek

the snow melting melting

away the witches

of winter.


soon baby Jesus and the Wises

will be risen up out of

their frozenness,

just in time

for Easter.


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survivor guilt – February 26


in wartime guns rattle,

ied’s level the guys next

to you, and some come

home in pieces,

while others in only guises

and varieties of a whole.


why me, why not me

why them, and I’m

still here


survivor guilt infecting

the soul.


late in life it strikes again


about friends who ended up,

at the side of the park

we played cards in and smoked

as wanna-be-thugs,

with a needle in their arm;


or just fell down between

the stacks in college

for no apparent reason

still dressed in their

three-piece suit.


not to mention all the poor

and hungry and bombed

and tortured and maimed

in all those other parts

of the world

or just down the street.


and why me, why not me

why them, and I’m

still here

still haunts.


survivor guilt.


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at some moment – February 20


Mortality is a tricky beast.

At some moment I will feel

a catch, a stop, an instant,

and my eyes

will blink or close,

my mind stop registering,

to not open again.


I may hear briefly

the ones I love

or the world around,

whatever the sounds are,

but it will stop.


And I pray that in that moment

the one who created me

will be faithful.

That at some moment

I will open whatever eyes and sight

are appropriate for

the new moment.


And that I will be with

those I love

and the One.


I’ll see you darling.

See you in the morning.


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