Unbecoming 

There is no time
to write
to feel
and say goodbye

There is no space
for love
for grief
or imagination let off its leash

Under layers
strata of stress and obligation
we are compressed into
depressed imposition

Evolution has been hacked
our physiology hijacked
as we bend
like the letter C
over glowing screens

Leaves me to wonder
will this second fire
be the end
of our species
or am I the less evolved
obsolete
sealing my fate
with such antiquated thinking

 

New Shoes

New shoes
Thrill me
Just as much
As when I went to Potters
With mom
And left 
In speedy red Zips
And a matching balloon 
(That would end up
On the ceiling of 5/3rd bank)
Loosely tethered 
To my wrist

I’m sure
If it were advisable 
I’d be able to run faster
In my new green Keens 
And leap up to pull
That balloon down
From the highest bank ceiling

Enough

December has been deconstructed
warped, wrapped
stacked under the tree
in obscene amounts, compensations
weighted matter without matter
lost is the kindness
replaced with staging, pre-lit love

And guilt to give
the perfect gift, paying perfect homage
with a prefect token, pure and sacrificial
received in perfect manner
humble and gushing
gratitude with the tags still on

I want to scream
when the shoppers box me in
their metal carts cornering me
I’ve become an obstacle
to overcome
in their quest for the perfect wheel of brie
on my heels in the aisle
on my tail in traffic
I want to hide
until January

I want to hold my children
I want to tell them

“you have enough
but I will give you my time
my voice, my ear, my love
I will share God with you
and it will be enough”