I made myself sit still

and let my brain run amuck…

thoughts circled like toilet water

over mundane things like

shoelaces and forks

and evil devices like

punctuation and bra hooks.

Images of a beating floated

and were hard to push down,

but I didn’t resist; there was no

glorious victory or surrender,

just another psychic bandaid in place.

There’s no peace in stillness

when the meditative turns tornado

and cows fly

over a speeding rainbow.

The hardest part

is sticking the landing.

On the cusp of scared

because cigars and large foreheads

beckon ancient ones;

our habitat is in jeopardy

because of comfort.

I can’t even force a sneer anymore.

Small talismans piled up

along arms and in ears and around necks,

we count as we walk,

wondering when the Big Boot will come

and squash us into the ground.

.

Between reveries and hunger

is where we keep defeat at bay,

our bangles jangling a joyful noise.

gather

gloomy moss

from your fists

array a wreath of longing

from whatever’s left

of woodsy wandering

leave a memory

of what’s never been

let us germinate

Before he flew away,

I asked about love and death,

since that’s all we are-

such simple animals

–

It didn’t seem odd to us,

a woman and a bird

conversing about such things;

we know of flight and loss

–

He said I was silly

to even ask;

whatever answer he’d manage

wouldn’t be enough

–

He gave me allegories

about boxes and tethers,

saying the trick is to find rest

inside the tender trap