Thursday, September 27, 2012

And yet again, I dive into a fountain of pennies

Diving knuckles first into a jar 
of generic peanut butter with a spoon,
 I call it dinner,

and I am spent.

Every last dollar of emotion has been paid
 into a week of writing, creating, believing

that pennies of words might turn to gold.

For a moment, I started to fall for a new beau 
and he played the role of temporary muse,

because that is what I know.

But he was as broken as I once was, 
a distraction, attraction, and a way to feel
something strong.

Yet I am determined,
this time story telling
will pay.

I will collect.

Saturday, May 19, 2012

Fearlessness of Waves

Tonight I thought of waves
and how they call out
patterns of the heart

sometimes quiet and then
suddenly passionate
rolling in sets
unexpected pounding on sand
that might prefer to be ignored.

an ocean dark and salty
sends forth
a simple wave that commits
to rushing to the shore
and with courage it bends

and hopes the land
might welcome its curl.