Autumn Haikus of Hope

Breath forms in the air,
Picked up by Pacific wind –
Whispered sweet nothings.

stormStorms rage on the horizon.
Hot tea warms my heart
and hands, and thoughts of you.

One apple

An orchard empty of fruit,
Save one ruby red apple
That hangs in the balance.


A Cathartic Weekend: Thanksgiving in Brief

Turkey, de-boned, in a provocative position.

Turkey, de-boned, in a provocative position.

Thanksgiving finally came around,
And while my hand was stuffed up the bird’s cavity,
Cutting out the carcass,
Concentrating on placing the fillet knife,
Between bone and muscle,
Listening for that satisfying pop,
That indicated I’d torn a tendon
And disjointed the fowl,
I realized that I had a lot
For which to be thankful,
This past year.

The same time, last year,
I was engaged in a similar exercise,
But I had been 45 pounds heavier.
I’d bought an apartment,
But hadn’t lived in it yet,
And was experiencing
A traumatizing bathroom reno,
For a waterfall and rain shower,
And pretty glass shower doors.
I was dating some two bit Dutch guy
Whose idea of wine was two buck chuck.

Now, I’m almost as fit as I was twenty years ago,
(although it makes me feel old to say it that way),
Hiking up mountains, walking to work,
Running without running out of breath.
I’ve had to swap out an entire new wardrobe,
To accommodate the changes.
I turn heads.
I feel more in control, more confident,
More strut in my step.
(you Sexy Ol’ Thang)

That step now involves heels,
High heels, classy heels.
Classy clothes, staying in fashion,
Wearing things that fit, that show off, that look good.
It’s shallow, I know,
But it’s a good feeling.

I’ve met some great people this year,
And cemented some amazing friendships.
I’ve had two weddings,
That took me to Hawaii
And, each time, I made a new friend,
And had an amazing experience under that tropical sun.

I met a good man,
And thought it didn’t work out,
I wish him all the best,
As his friendship gave me confidence in my self,
(and in my self in high heels).

I have friends who care,
And who care deeply for my outcomes.
I have family who love,
And who support, without question.
How many people in this world can say the same?
I am lucky.

Yes, I have a lot for which to be thankful.
And, sometimes, it takes a weekend
Of marathon cooking for a Thanksgiving crowd,
To help you see all that good that pervades our lives.

Carry On My Wayward Son

Kailua and WaimanaloMy Dear Boy.

I realized after I called the world a pregnant bitch,
That I was being profoundly selfish,
Thinking of my own needs and wants,
And my own feelings,
Neglecting the crux of the matter:
Namely, that you are on a path
That you must see through to the end.

The fear and loneliness,
Which you must be feeling right now,
I can only imagine.
And perhaps anger at those
Who would send you off,
After so many years of service,
When you were already thinking
Of a future, basking under a warm sun,
Of gin and tonics on weekends,
Of a life that would mean a home to return to,
After a long day’s work,
Year in, year out.

All that best laid plan,
thrown askew by a single email:

Dear {First Name} {Last Name}:

You are going to A-.
Thank you for being a man.


The Detailer.

The walls of a cozy reality,
Came crashing down, like Jericho,
After being marched around for 22 years,
Upon reading that hateful message.
No, I cannot imagine how you must feel.

And I am sorry that I have reacted so poorly,
As to be an unsupportive friend.
My hand is still held out,
to hold some of that fear,
And ease those burdens from your tired shoulders,
Because I cannot take them away.

But I can be a walking staff,
That, you, my wayward son
Can carry,
And help you find peace,
When you are done.

*here’s to positive thoughts, faith, and hope, that all is well in Guam*


That pregnant bitch of a world

I’m in a cocoon, wrapped in self-doubt and misery,
Wondering why everyone tells me to give up on you,
That one year is too long to wait,
That you never felt anything for me,
That it all was just a pipe dream,
Something that the Caterpillar made up
To distract Alice from her task at hand.
(I thought, nay, I know, my task is you…
and a Pandora bit of hope still has faith in that, in you)KONICA MINOLTA DIGITAL CAMERA

Waiting for you to come to a decision is sheer hell.
I am completely immobilized by waiting to hear from you.
Wanting to hear from you.
Missing you.
Missing our games of Scrabble,
While discussing the finer nuances of kitchen bitching,
And games of 52 pick up with wasabi peas and chopsticks.

What happened that everything came to a full stop,
When things were rolling merrily along?
They’re going like a bloody nose now,
Fast and furious,
And twisted pieces of tissue stuffed up nostrils.
I feel like a bloody walrus.
Why did one piece of news suddenly narrow in your world,
So that you felt your future rapidly diminish?
The only certainties that I can offer are support, friendship, acceptance, and trust.
And aren’t those enough?

I am sacrificing chickens to the gods,
So that you have the courage to accept those certainties,
And I am turning sacrifices into stews
Meant to be slurped in cold September rains.
I won’t really eat them in the rain;
No, I’ll sit and slurp, and watch the drizzle
Wash the pigeon shit off of my patio,
And wonder whether I can still wriggle my toes,
When my soul seems to have succumbed to frostbite.

You are making me re-evaluate everything,
this very moment in time.
I want my future twinned to yours,
strands of a silken rope tied to a bed,
in a nautical knot,
bodies writhing in ecstasy.
And if that is not meant to be,
Then I must go forth into that pregnant bitch of a world,
And look for meaning in the cups of old men,
Whose beards bear the mark of the last dregs of wine from the vat.

But before all that,
Before I kneel at the altar of remorse and self-pity,
Bedecked in withered roses,KONICA MINOLTA DIGITAL CAMERA
Smelling faintly of the salty tang of the sea,
I will keep faith,
In you,
That all that excrement and misery,
Will be staid by your hand,
At your command,
And I will be for you,
And you for me.