they met in a dirty coffee shop
the one around the corner from the one with the fancy pastries
they sat at the wobbly table
the air thick between them
with smoke and cream and tension
he was a gentleman
she wasn’t a nice girl
they both had the same idea though
about where this was going
dialog was superfluous
their eyes held the only truths
that would never be spoken aloud
but just maybe whispered
in the glow of the flickering streetlight
as they walked to the nearest bed
seeking something to fill
their thoughts, their hearts, or just the time
breathing in the feeling of real life for a moment
while spitting out the staleness of crushed hopes
they’d meet again at that coffee shop
again and again until they were full
a messy poem
no matter how many ways
we can devise
to separate and arrange letters
there will never be
a word or sentence or phrase
that adequately conveys
how much I feel for you
the swirling mix in me
of need and joy and rage and magic
combine in such a muddle
I’m left stunned every time I see you
and throwing myself at you
and writing messy poems
well, it’s the best I can do
waking up?
nothing like waking up
surprised at hell
to be waking up
to a new day
with all your faculties
when last you knew
you felt lower
than what the ground could hold
when hope had flown
and you thought you were beaten
but apparently
you either enjoy the pain
or thrive on the challenge
once in awhile
once in a great while
it’s as though someone’s hit the pause button
there’s no wind, no sound, no movement
I almost catch my breath
but am fooled by the lull and swept away
there’s no excuse
for my inattention
I should know better
there’s history at my beck and call
if I just heed it
once in blue moon
it feels like yet another last chance
I’ve been granted without a reason
not earning a place in the sun for nothing
not knowing when to turn tail and hide away
there’s no better time
than in those quiet moments
when the air is still and you can stop
everything
to just restart
but sometimes it isn’t enough
to understand the need to change
there are other distractions dissuading movement
and sometimes you forget history
and you get stuck hitting the pause button
Keep Thrumming
Incredible lightness settled where confusion had been dwelling
Wisps of ideas swirled like stale smoke looking for breathing room
Stepping through memories and hopes
Trying to find a path that speaks to stars
That shine in my eyes when I dream and wonder
Walking through the twinkling dusk
The trees swaying and whispering lullabies
I struggle to keep my eyes open
As water and music and fading sunshine melt
Keeping my starkest thoughts at bay
If notes could keep themselves
And hopes could flower in living color
The songs would turn sweeter and not bluesy
My arms reach out to grasp something to hold
Not quite bereft but not brimming either
Floating through the air thick with thoughts
It can be easy to settle on one or two
But to be true instead of safe
To stay open is the rougher path
And it keeps the heart thrumming.
The Word Rummager 