The Never Expected Expectation (two for tuesday)

An explosion of sorts,

Out of the blue,

Or more accurately gray. 

We never expect,

Or rather we pretend to not,

The hail, the clap of thunder after the flash. 

And what joy, slight fear, 

a slice of awe, that this 

unexpected expectation can bring. 


#twofortuesday #puddlepoem

Lengths of Time Like an Inch Worm

Let me know when you take flight.

And how the air is sweeter,

That leaves a bitter trail as you go.

I’ll be watching from below.

How the air breathes sweeter,

Swollen with fertile scents and satiated longings.

Left with the bitter trail, here I stay

Watching from afar in the gap between the twist and fray

Swollen, with fertile scents, to satiate the longings,

The lengths of time like an inch worm.

Watching, from afar, the gap twists the fray

Alone I lay.

In lengths of time

you to will land, tired,

Near to where I lay below,

As you share your sweetened glow.

Umbilical Cord to the Future

What is time but the umbilical cord to the future.

Never severs, never breaks,
only splits and slips,
tethers us and nourishes us,

with satiating seconds,
hungry hours,
Beating pulses,
Momentary
And
Endless.

From was to now-ness
then else.

 Inside nowhere together alone.

We forget so soon,
We haven't left the womb.



from Instagram

A Surface to Come up To

From underwater it's hard to imagine
that there's a surface to come up to.

Even in those last effects of breath,
Even in those searching looks for anything else;

forgetfulness of solution seems to be the only thought that is reliably recalled.

Yet, there is a silver lining to a wave of dissolution;
an elusive brightness tickling the tension
       separating now,
                                     one more breath of air
                                                                   and sinking.

It is in that space between the two worlds
where anything truly is possible

And sometimes it just takes an outside reminder
to snap that thought into place.

Something out of the
                                   ordinary,
                 unusual,
peculiar.

To become the witness
and not the agitator.

                 The watcher,
the observer.

                                                                                                  and rise.
                        That's the time to look up



from Instagram

Patience is a Slow Clap

When I take the time to slow down,
 --Slow down--
I can see perfectly that
Patience is a slow clap
Cheering for the almost
But not quite unbelievable
Ridiculousness of my true nature.

And, for the abundance
Of can't take back moments like
"Did I say that with my outside voice?"
And
"If only this thought wasn't ruining
This moment right now."

Before the explosion of expletives
And occasional superlatives,
There's always opportunity for a pause,

A moment of 'wait',
A moment of 'listen'.


W
from Instagram

Un-Scratching the Surface

It was just being a speck,
a blur from the intuition of
My peripheral vision.

An almost missed, overlooked
Forgotten or otherwise smudge.
In a moment of not-searching,
And other not-isms,
Under-whelming-ings and such.

Just an un-scratching the surface
of nowhere in particular
to uncover nothing of consequence.

It never asked or should'ed me,
scolded or stared me down.

It just became
         and was
                and
                                    nevermore.



from Instagram

The Sound of Every Heartbeat

How is it that one heart is love,
And one is poison?

That Two hearts can beat together
And overcome the rhythm of another heart's fury.

How can this evil heart rest beside this sweetheart,
or how this good heart broke and became numb?

Whereas what difference is one heart to another?

Truly.

Have you ever wondered
what the sound of every heartbeat
together is?

It must be a sound.
Why don't we know how to hear that music?

With so many hearts alive whether open,
scared, calm or bleeding,
How is it not the only auditory sensation we hear?

Your lonely heart echoed loudly for me.
The brum pa pum of my beat pushed me
towards your buh buum buh buum.

We swayed softly to the music
and filtered out all other luring.
But we were still vulnerable hearts.

Each heart we meet is a dance, trying to align the rhythm.

We don't choose this.
It happens.
Every single heart we meet.
Our hearts want to dance.

Inside this chest is no different than yours.
The heart know this.
The visceral reds pulse and brood,
whisp and pour through streamlines and rivers.

No difference. No good hearts or bad. Open or closed.
All heart
until it bleeds out,
silences or is forgotten.

If only we walked through our lives
meeting each heart willing to accept that dance.

Each heart open to be loved.



from Instagram