Day 39

“You're the best friend i've ever had” was what the boy had said words which filled me up that feel like skateboard wheels crunching over sidewalk that smell like sea salt kites flying haphazardly through early spring light

“You're the sweetest, kindest man” was what the bride had said through moist eyes and smiling lips flowers draped around the room dancing close, the world shut out our hearts beating in terror at a world that we would build just starting out

“You're the best dad ever was what the little girl said As air changes away from summer cool wisps of fall autumn colored hair back and forth on the swing hazel eyes paired with smiling lips
laughter and innocence

“You were the world to me, mom” I said as I heard her voice fade from the phone The sounds of the machines scream Footfalls, are the last thing I hear as the line goes dim a weight blooms over my chest pushing down on a world that till now only thought it had known what it was to be threatened

Thinking back on those phrases that built me phrases and moments that others planted deep inside seeds I've nurtured, watered to keep growing make me smile even as my body turns a little cold

Looking into your eyes, my once small girls today at last, is my turn “You're the best daughters a father could ask for please love and never be ashamed by it”

---

Lost a pet today and I got to bury it. This was my youngest first time really dealing with something dying she really cared about. It took me back to when I was around her age. To when Id seen my cat dead on the walkway.

I wish it hadn't happened today but the universe can be just as cold as it is kind.

I hug my kids and keep going

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Day 37

We stay up observing snow fall together wrapped warmly in a blanket silent fairies dance to Earth prodded by hungry winds send flecks skyward

Lightning arches across the livid sky A low growl chases soon after I feel you edge yourself closer

Another ripple fulminates the window turns opaque I can see your face, turned towards me So I move mine to meet yours

The thunder shakes the house My heart leaps

At once your head is on my shoulder, watching blizzard of dancing crystals shapes manifest waves of fallen icy stars howling wind raise pillars of glass

wind and snow thunder and lightning natures unfocused uncaring presence

watching the window seeing you watch out pixies playfully dance in your eyes

---

Got to enjoy the first snowfall in awhile and although the show didn't occur quite as poetically. I like to think that most memories can be playfully rewrote to be a bit more exciting. Not that having kids trashing your house isn't a fun time, most days.

Sometimes for my own health its nice to take a mental voyage to a place where a moment is as easy as sitting watching the snow fall.

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Day 36

When life gets rough I close my eyes Then I wake here

Sitting cross legged I feel the waterfall on my back The warm sun and brilliant sky before me

The weight of each droplet hurts A thrumming pummeling wave Travels over my head neck Slamming down my back

I don't try to end the torrent Breathing slowly, letting go I embrace this

Pieces of my body start to chip away Slow at first, then quicker and quicker Collapsing into the water

Soon I am nothing Just colors swirling in a pool below a waterfall

Somehow I can still feel Somehow I can still see Somehow I can grow and so I do

I let myself reach out Let myself find warmth Following that heat Until I find the source

There at the hot spring I relax and let myself coalesce until I form into something like me again

Not the broken mass struggling under a torrent But A new person having survived it

---

I don't do that visualization as much as I used to. But so many times I would be in board rooms or giving a talk. The eyes of people looking or when I misspoke seeing how my words missed the mark. Id go back to a cube or an open space, my small designated corner of the world. I'd put my head in my hands and I would see the above poem.

Life can be so hard sometimes and I know it could always be worse but I have this nagging feeling. That this life isn't how things should be. You shouldn't work years for the privilege of baseline economic security.

Why can't I just become a doctor or poet or artist because I want to. Where is my time and choice? Why does it always have to be so one sided.

People are kaleidoscopes In a world that frowns on colors

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Day 35

Tom walked through the glade of trees His footfalls breaking dry timber His cadence awkward but not labored Slowly, looking out through eyeless sockets He spotted the massive castle

Row after row greyer colored rock

Tom closed within inches of the walls Allowed his finger to stretch Then walking, trailed an outline across the rock

“Help”

The voice again, he looked up far far up was an opening And so Tom began to climb

---

Another busy day of helping my oldest figure out how to communicate virtually. Really makes me feel for her since I can remember just hating to directly ask my teacher for help. Now, its so damn important since every assignment is funneled through google classroom.

Also having used gcp in the past I can happily say that the UI designers tried their best but missed the mark.

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Day 34

A timid voice floated out of the great grey castle words which melted with cries carried then by the wind through the surrounding forest into the bonemeal ears of a skeleton

“Help”

The skeleton, named Tom, rose

His last memory was by a necromancer who, after summoning him had died quite suddenly

Tom had suspected a heart attack

But for the newly reanimated skeleton that event was pretty awful, because without a word or phrase to bind meaning for his locomotion it meant laying against a tree for a very very very long time.

So Tom, very thankful, stood began to walk through the trees and approach the castle

---

Thinking this one is going to be a two parter

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Day 33

I remember you mentioning once the reason you hadn't killed yourself

I thought that reason was odd at the time

But over the years like ivy falling, wrapping itself down a pillar

your answer was enough

though it never fueled comfort that answer never lied the way other truths would

So after a time I took it into myself this burnt ember of truth

that each day is tough that it is frustrating

you told me

“Holding that knife I felt like an imposter – not me id rather be a sad me than a killer”

---

Bleh, got off the writing horse again. Stupid crazy life

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Day 32

Easily ignored and forgotten Tiny moments Of not honking your horn not yelling not cursing restrained Being at peace Letting others that swim – go around

Not because your weak or lame or passive because life is better

when you look deep into each other acknowledging were in this together

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Its Wednesday and I spent so long today getting utf-8 encoding to work properly from xls –> csv that im going to sleep now

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Day 31

The room slowly lost its heat A rock cooling down after sunset Music gone, the vacuum of air hums Party cups, fallen friends

The party was over

—

Have to keep the poem small today, just been a crazy week.

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Day 30

An icicle forming above at the caves entrance slowly as water from some unseen lake had overrun and slithered the water droplets followed one after another falling just past each brother, each sister each clung and held as they fell over the mouth of the cave, holding frozen to top staring downward holding more came tumbling each over the others head until at last no more siblings came and all was still, winter reigned

days in and out each droplet remembered the blue sky, the warm succulent air, those tumbling white clouds each remembered the long falling the joy of finding each other finding a home in the lake full of life fish splashing, flowers lazily doing backstroke grass reeds waving in sober wind then one remembered the spill the cold race down the hill praying not to stop but now its prayer was different

the frozen droplet missed the sky days recycled nights and back again yet each brother and sister held firm as the last until finally one morning

the clouds that hid the sun repented each droplet looked out and remembered the orange the warm glow, the radiant sunlight each felt their bodies warm felt their tired hold release

splick splick splat

each sibling let go laying before the cave the sun rose

each dissipated floating back to the sky together

---

I hold back a lot of what my mind see's just because I never know what sounds like art and what sounds ill. Even in saying that I don't know what art is. What poetry really is. The words above mean something to me. They help me. But it just feels self serving.

If money is used to quantify skill – I have never made much from writing. It isn't what pays for a subscription to this blog.

Writing feels like an outlet and in that I guess it must be it's own reward

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Day 28

There is a blizzard in my kitchen I don't know how it started

yellow wallpaper whitewashed powder

tiled floor, an ice rink

my sink ejecting snow in torrents

The wind whips nastily as i march to make my way into the pantry

Someone put penguins in the pantry They don't look surprised In fact they look irritated that the franks red hot is placed so high

Crawling – my eyes stinging from frost I make my way to the fridge Almost a wrong turn, almost lost Frozen shut, I'm pulling

Inside I see the storm Inside a jar of mayo tender artic heart beating

I reach out, a snowball grazes me breaking the jar just in time to see a snowman running eyes of coal ablaze right before impact water

Everywhere

I'm kinda thirsty

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Hot day requires a cool poem. Or at least that's what I was going for :)

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