Ancestor

On moonlit nights I stare into the dark and the stars I cannot see in the city and wonder about the woman, who so long ago, was my ancestor. Did she stare at those stars in the countryside of Canton and find them hopeful, or mocking of her life, pulled low by poverty and disease, by a family broken into pieces too jagged and shattered to shift and put together again? I have tried to put those pieces so they are whole, pressed my thumb against the jagged edges praying to blunt their sharpness, but my fingers bleed in erose tragedy. The voices around me mock my ineptitude, my sorrow, and my thoughts. But I think of that woman of long ago and wonder if she would have understood me. I think of that woman sitting below that vastness of space and think of the peace coming to her – as she realizes that she is but a small piece of tapestry in a greater world full of joyous things – and for a while, I too, believe.

Sister

You who share my blood but not my face
And only have my thoughts intermittently
Like Venn diagrams with that space of sameness
We who sprung from the same root and tree
And flowered and bore fruit so differently
What matters is that you halve my sorrow
And I know the barbs you spit are not sprung
From hate of me
But our shared frustration that life should be:
Simpler
Happier

Our mother taught us not to say those words
Yet, I am glad to have you
Yet, I am glad to know you

I Saw

I saw a strange bird on the water
Like a gray bit of dandelion tuft
Strayed from the stem and blown far away
To the deepest part of the woods
Where the light pries in small, weak webs

I saw a strange man on the street
Like a skeleton key
Thrown rusted away in a drawer
To the farthest reaches of the city
Where he has forgotten his own, particular use

I saw myself in a mirror
Like a defeated old crone
Bent low by selfish worries and regret
To the nadir of existence and childhood
Where there is no beginnings, only ends

I saw many things, but took only some to heart;
Others, I denied and buried
And others, I sowed 

No More Going to the Movies

Due to budgeting constraints (a.k.a. I am poor) I’ve mostly given up watching movies in theaters, which is pretty disastrous. I love going to movies alone, sinking into another word, the way one can do with a book. It’s a lot easier with a film however, mostly because you don’t need to jog your imagination or read backwards if you’re slogging through a series and forgot this plot thread, or that character a la George R.R. Martin‘s “A Song of Fire and Ice.” Plus, if you get yourself into a good movie, you’ll get a neatly wrapped story in two hours or less instead of maybe sitting through a serial drama or condemning the sci-fi gods for canceling “Firefly.”

There’s a smorgasbord of pros to movie watching, but if you’re tired of shelling out money to go do it (like me), you’ve got to remind yourself of the OTHER cons. Here are a few, in case you wake up craving popcorn and those horrible 3D glasses that give you headache:

Continue reading “No More Going to the Movies”

Spider

I did not know depression until it robbed me of movement. I shutter my windows against the sunshine, thinking it too loud, when before it would have been a welcome invitation. I find myself lying in bed for hours, drifting to sleep, waking and drifting again, letting dreams coalesce like sand in a shaken bottle, settle deep into my psyche. I do not look too long into them; their bitter conclusions present themselves as truths. Even in dreams, my mind finds no relief. It only combs cobwebs into a great mass, sad glimmers, a heavy egg sack on my heart.

A Bad Relationship

I have decided on an relationship of equal give and take
Which too much of the time, swings too much one way
And then the other
Or, may be too alike that one negative
Brings about another
Compounding negative to negative
Until negative is the only thing that lies between
Two forces conjoined by choice and then by desperation

Who says two halves make a whole?
When we are lesser than ourselves together, than alone