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

Resolution on the back burner in favour of warm snuggles
For this, I am not sorry

Somehow this blog feels like a chore
Every day
Be sure to write your lines

"I will not forget to blog
I will not forget to blog
I will not..."

How can I sit at the computer and compose what I will not enjoy, when there are loving arms and smiling love waiting for me elsewhere?

I can't see the piano
I can't hear its lilting notes
There is nothing wrong with my eyes or ears
Nothing wrong with me at all
But for the fact that
I do not wish to embrace
Anything that will
Give beauty
And meaning
To this world

You're the mom
Why does it need to be said
You should know
You should make it better
Pound for pound
No gloves
All love
You should know
You should make it better

Happiness can be so fickle
The purveyor of mine is staid and true
It can be a raving river or just a trickle
We can share it, me and you

Like being stoned
Cold, hard pain directed at your
head and midsection
Blinding
Stumbling away
Trying to find cover





...I live in the wrong country to be so afraid of ice

Can you grow into love?
Whether for a partner or the man above?
Feel indifferent one day and bursting with joy the next?
Have a stiff upper lip and be as sappy as the rest?
Simultaneously want to remain solitary and plan a romantic evening?
Growl on the phone and the next moment you're beaming?

Barack or Hilary
Does it really matter?
We need rid of that Texan
In the shadow of his father

Mission Accomplished
Just the tip of the lies
That fueled this madness
These never-ending cries

When will they stand up?
When will America wake?
This complacency is alarming
Protest for democracy's sake

My brain split sideways
Tore my head north, south, east, west
Painful hemispheres

Our knight is asleep
Heath's torment now at an end
At peace forever

It's the same sad story
Told again and again
Too much in the veins
Too much in the blood
The road to the long sleep
Naked and calm
Forever napping
Heath joins Michael
Aussies aslumber
Beautiful and talented

Trying again
This time will be better than the last

Tiny kitten in big, warm arms
Whiskers quivering
Searching for a kiss
So big, so small
Human, feline
An unlikely family

Hope is returning
Praying that it's not fleeting
Let me stay happy