So much madness, crazy
Stuff, so crazy you only
Can call it shit, crazy shit.
Just reach for the sides,
Sweet potatoes, they will
Save you, I like mine with
Out the marshmallows, I
Know, sweeter maybe is
Better, especially now, I
Agree. Pass the brussel
Sprouts, please. There's
A chandelier at the Met
That just makes me feel
Good, feel better. These
Lights go up before the
Curtain does. At the Met.
Category Archives: Connection
Conversation
You answer in English to what she
Tells you in your mother tongue, it
Is a language you know but cannot
Speak. Not now. Not anymore. Are
There regrets? Not as long as you
And she can communicate; she is
Able to understand your answer as
You understand her. Conversation
Is easy, even if your words and hers
Are lost in translation. She speaks,
You answer in English; there is a
Pause, it is a comfortable pause.
It’s time
What are we waiting for?
The bus? A train, the rain
To stop, doors to close,
Doors to open, the light
To change, to fade. We
Wait, and let the time go
Past us, get out of our
Reach. How can we be
Sure which moment is
Our moment? Aren’t we
Just waiting for the now?
My way. Forward.
I could be a wiseass, back
Then, when I was far from
Wise, kind of knew little of
Sorrow, less of pure joy, a
Bit of okay days, and, to be
Fair, had my appreciation
For things that would come
To matter, to mean, to be
Important, have the weight
Of significance. So, yeah, I
Was an ass, a snotty kid, a
Bit wet behind the ears like
A mewling kitten, but I saw
Where all this was heading
And I followed in the right
Direction. Older and wiser,
But far from wise, I seek a
Path as straight, curved, as
Multi-directional, as I can. A
Path every wiseass knows
As her own. Her very own.
Simply put
The stranger and less familiar
The greater the pull. Unusual
Words want me to use them,
To sprinkle them over the top
Like so much sweet garnish
Over common expressions,
Expanding meanings from the
Ordinary, trivial. Meandering
Far from what you think you're
Saying to a novel thought on
A different trajectory. You've
Built a tree of ideas, branches
Alive with the unexpected, the
Consequences of imaginative
Thinking opens adjacent ideas.
Strange and unfamiliar words.
Transform an idiom, so it's ass
Over teakettle with excitement.
Simply put, give it a new verve.
Shadow
A tall, sleek shadow precedes
Me, delights me. I'm stocky and
Short, that's my shadow, I say,
Pleased that it walks ahead of
Me, that it introduces me to the
World. I don't question that it
Doesn't follow as it should. You
Would expect a shadow behind,
Expect it to follow and not lead
What do we know
Really knowing who we are
What we know when we say
We know something, do we
Mean we understand it fully
Or that we get it, that we feel
It in spirit or in the real and
Actual? are we deluded into
Believing we know what we
Truly don't because, some
Things are beyond, I guess,
Understanding. That means
We don't know, you know?
Yes, I hear a love song in this tune
I say love, and I am sincere
Sincere in my deep, soft love
But what I mean is tenderness
That's a whole new feeling. No
Edges, so it's smoother. It's a
Bit sweeter, but no, it is not at
All cloying. Tenderness is like
Velvet not silky or slick but it
Too is deep and soft. It too is
Sincere and heartfelt. Felt in
The heart, that's where love
Lives, at least metaphorically
Love and tenderness inhabit
All of me, engage every sense.
My face, it relaxes, eases into
A smile, a sigh of tenderness
Sincere as my love is sincere
Deep as my love is deep and
Soft as the sigh is soft. I say
Love yet tenderness is what
Sings to me, deeply, sweetly
Eye-to-Eye
It's what I saw and
Perhaps you did too
We may have that in
Common, a shared
Vision, and a mutual
Sighting. Something
Caught our eye and
Indelibly our focus
Was elevated. It all
Came clear so now
We own that clarity
Together. Brighter
And sharper than if
I alone gazed, saw
And remembered
All in Order
My hair was more interesting
Before I ran a brush through
To create some order out of
The nightly chaos. It seems
That order bores and chaos
Revitalizes. Who knew? I did,
I think, and I am sure you did
Too. Yet we disparage all that
Is chaotic. We crave order in
The little things that make us
Domesticated. We say "A place
For everything and everything
in its place." We say it with the
Grim self-satisfaction of chaos
Conquered. Order everywhere.
Tamara, really 