Momo has been dead for a year. It doesn't seem like it's been that long. I can still feel his bony brow and soft, floppy ears. I can still hear him fall up the stairs. Summer is coming and it reminds me of the long hours he'd spend lying in the sun, so still and calm and wise-looking, like a furry monk in meditation, at one with the earth and her creatures, butterflies dancing on his ribs.

Effervescence liberated and cavities sent to seed
Take in real while greasy dreams spread like wildfire
In my esophagus

Leaves of gold and green
Somehow to replace strength and speed
Steak replaces Beefsteak
And my serotonin treats are now banned

Nothing could be further from burning

It's too important not to
With the breeze tickling my neck
Dust trails in the air
Follow what should be yours
And again
You ride peace like a donkey

Once
Only once
Think of nothing
Do not move
Only breathe

I can not

The sun is shining. Strong. The river is no longer icy. I actually got excited to see a piece of driftwood bobbing slowly along close to Mooney's Bay. The sky is a gorgeous soft blue. Nenna went outside and laid down on the back steps after doing her business, enjoying the warmth and sunshine, like Momo used to. All that was missing was the butterflies. I left the back door open and listened to the birds tweet with an urgency that reminded me of a group of five year olds on Christmas morning. Hurry, the sun is here! I can't believe it! The Sun! Everybody! Wake up and enjoy! I turned down my television and enjoyed listening to their apparent sun-drunkenness. The morning was just chill enough to bring a crispness to the air that enlivened my flesh, while my eyes were blinded by the bright rays, squinting in the glare, threatening to send me to sleep.

I suppose nothing is worse than quitting
An effort may as well be involved
This complacency of my resolve
How disgusting

I am unwilling to erase these poems, yet
For them to remain unfinished, unsung, uninspiring...
Just seems so shameful
I can't do that to my words

They are a part of me

Promise of love
Hope of moving forward
AND A POETRY BLOG

It can be done