My dearest loves
Have always been dogs.
Bear. Bandit. Butch.
Baby Gus, my match.
Dogs are too good for me.
Anxiety
Making them shorter doesn’t
make them any easier. The panic
rises heavy handed. Sorrow
so deep my chest aches brings
out memory, the flashes.
Nothing to do but breathe.
Nowhere to go but through.
Medication can only carry me
to my crystalline end. I will
shatter to slate. I will shatter
again to pebbles. My veins
run with ice and glass, my heart
banging on the door to my ribs
screaming to be let loose.
Breathe and release.
My skull is a metaphor.
Hour 18 “The ultimate conversation won’t start with words.” Kathaleen Donnelly
It won’t begin in dialect song or verse
only in action.
Our hugged embrace,
kisses on cheeks,
sparkles caught inside one another’s eyes
smiles across our faces
burning sensations
we call butterflies.
Tears will mix with laughter
sweat while it is bitter cold,
frost in a heat wave
instrumental music without lyrics,
gestures radiate it is safe.
Everything else can be left on paper.
❤️
dopamine fuck fear and food
everything is drugs
suckle oxytocin
for the serotonin gut
skin prickles
deaf and dumb
expand and contract
uptake and release
adrenaline, pain, and longing
likes, replies, emoji.
everything is drugs.
Prompt hour # 18
Text Prompt
Write a poem about a moment of joy.
Joyful
Today I choose to be joyful.
Revel in the little things.
Bask in the sunshine
of my everlasting glow.
My skin warms up.
My nerves lost control.
Recall my purpose- I am.
Forget all the reasons why I don’t think I can.
Today I am just going to be.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Leave the rest to be dealt
with a joyful streak of a smile.
Smile at every single person.
Twirl if I need to…
Sing, break into movement
to celebrate this moment of relevation.
My presence- my glory, my moment.
Joy is here to celebrate me.
Empower me,
Flowing through me.
Flowering my expression.
So while I am here,
I choose joy everyday.
Let the sun shine on me.
If You Say So–Hour 18
My participle is dangling
my modifier misplaced
look under the hood
supercharger disgraced
un-muddy the waters
that flow through the brain
and ring in the new year
with a merry refrain
If coffee can do
what coffee say do
I’ll make it to nineteen
and so will you
Grandparents Feathers
My childhood is tied to Dr. Mario
and the ten inch portable tv
stationary in my memory, a gift
from the man I’ve loved best.
There were always gifts
and birthday cakes.
Saviors, the both of them.
nymphettes (prompt 11)
we still sprint through the park with our tops off
with hopes of belonging to the wind
our mouths wide and grinning
joyful shrieking like banshees
ravaging silence from the siren space
within our throats
we vanish into the trees become the shadows
hardly able to speak or breathe
sides splitting – flaking bark
barking back at neighborhood dogs
howling untamed with them
a leaf-limbed pack of teenage hyenas
Hour 18 Our Rooftop Garden in Panama at Sunrise
Hour 18 Moment of Joy Mary Pecaut
Our Rooftop Garden in Panama at Sunrise
Colibri comes to greet
me. The hum of OM.
Her wings bat infinity.
And I say, thank you,
more, please.