Sliver of white moon
no stars light the inky black...
twenty children dead

Dissociation

Dissociation:
my brain isn’t empty—
it’s full of cotton.

5/17/2012

A field of lupine—

movement! A heron’s stalky

gait through grass and blue.

One of These Inspired by a Phrase I Heard from Chris Moon

In this haze of grief

I see nothing clearly but

the shapes of shadows.

Midnight, and I lie

awake, dreading tomorrow.

Pillow Test Fail.

Not a Haiku & Really Depressing

The deer dragged its broken legs behind it

along the freeway.  It hid in the brush,

and I waited with the girl who hit it.

We hoped that maybe, just maybe,

this deer, with wide eyes and fur that looked like living velvet,

this deer could be saved,

that it could be released back into the wild,

that it could end up in a petting zoo – anything –

to assuage her guilt and my sadness and to will 

this deer, this innocent, to live.

Then the police came, and the big blond one said casually,

Yeah, he’s not gonna make it.  You girls should just go.

We’re gonna put him out of his misery. 

This is the parta my job I can’t talk to my wife about.

And I heard myself say Oh, and felt my chest cave in,

and as I drove home I thought

I can’t save anything.  I can’t save anybody. 

I couldn’t save that deer;

I couldn’t save you.

I can’t save anybody.

My Not-So-Secret Life as the Hulk

Grief is an abyss.
Falling, I stop only when
I become angry.

To My Friend Brian, Who Killed Himself 2 Weeks & 2 Days Ago

To My Friend Brian, Who Killed Himself 2 Weeks & 2 Days Ago:

Man, part of me is mad at you.  Don’t worry:  it’s not the same sort of pissed off I got when you wouldn’t dump the trash when it got smelly or when I found out you tried jicama without me after I’d tried to get you to eat it for the 3-year duration of our dating life.  I’m mad that you didn’t call, that you didn’t reach out to me or any of the other close friends you have, not to mention your mom & brother.  Now I’ll never get to hear you crack jokes and laugh, or hear you play guitar or sing or complain or talk like Butthead or Bruce Lee.  I’ll never see more pictures of you with Violet & Indigo, or see you play with them—the biggest kid of all.  I’ll never know what you would’ve looked like when you got old, I’ll never know what you’d have worn to your next wedding.  All I have are memories now.

Of course, I’m mostly sad.  Part of it is selfish:  you were one of my best friends in the whole world, & now you’re gone.  When we broke up, so few people understood.  I remember what you said that day:  “If we stay together, I will start hating you, and I love you too much for that.”  And when I said, “I know, me too,” I totally meant it.  We were such good friends that people couldn’t understand why we weren’t into the romantic thing anymore.  But we wanted to stay friends, so we broke up, and we did stay friends—good ones.  When you got really good gossip, you’d always call me.  Your gossip was the best.  We’d laugh & laugh & laugh & judge & laugh some more.  And…  I did some pretty interesting stuff after we broke up, & you were always right there, a true friend.  You didn’t get jealous, mad, or preachy.  You waited a decent interval before dating someone younger, thinner, & nicer than me, & then bought all of Van Halen’s albums I didn’t already own on CD for me for my birthday.  You were the first to say “That guy Paul is cool.”  You were perhaps one of a handful of people who understood my whacko relationship with She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.  You were there to help me move when I needed help.  You were on the phone to make me laugh when I was sad.  You met me for coffee when I was in town.  We carpooled.  We talked.  We shared. We laughed.  We played “Who’s Who at the Santa Cruz Fellowship.”  When you shared stuff with me, I was supportive, just as you always were of me.  You can’t find that sort of friendship just anywhere, especially with exes!  We were a collective miracle.

I wish when we’d last talked that I’d been more perceptive.  You sounded unhappy, but I thought you’d snap out of it.  Maybe because I loved you so much, I had you on a pedestal.  How could someone so smart, so funny, so good looking, so talented, so creative, so well-liked, with such a huge package think that ending his life was a good idea?  The idea was totally foreign to me because I only thought GREAT when I thought of you.  When we last talked, I’d called to tell you how people you barely knew at an event 2 hours from your house were talking about how much they liked you & how awesome you were.  I guess you didn’t feel that awesome on April 11.  And I feel so horrible that you felt so isolated from all of us who love you that you didn’t reach out to one of us.  You probably never knew it, but I’d ration my phone calls to you, because if I’d called as often as I’d felt like it, we’d have been on the phone every day, & I didn’t want to take up your time.  Now, I wish I would’ve just blown up your cell daily.  But I didn’t want to be a bother.  Now I never get to bother you again, and we both know that was one of my favorite things to do!

Brian, I will miss you breaking pencils in half.  I will miss your style of burrito-eating.  I will miss listening to Black Sabbath with you.  I will miss talking like the Godfather when we had something intense to say to each other.  I will miss your smile, your laugh, the unique way you played guitar.  I will miss watching “KISS: X-treme Close Up” with you.  I will miss your renditions of fight scenes from “Enter the Dragon.”  I will miss you asking Violet rapid-fire questions & running around on the couch with her with your shoes on, laughing.  I will miss you holding up Indigo, giggling, & seeing the red of his hair highlighted in yours.  I will miss hearing stories about your brother, your mom, Violet, Indigo, & Barry.  I will miss giving you crap.  I will miss gossiping with you.  I will miss eating cookie dough with you.  I will miss watching people who don’t even know you photograph you.  

Basically, I will just miss you, period.  I love you, Man.  I will always remember you, and the memory will always be dear.   And I’m sure I’m just one of many who feels this way.  Rest in peace.

His Mom's Dish...

His mom's dish (mac and
cheese from the box) tasted
of powdery comfort.

Something Solid

Anger is solid,
something to grasp to stop my
fall into Grief's pit.

Underneath

Finally rain has
turned the hilltops green, though
underneath they're brown.

Morning's Early Chill

Morning's early chill--
a stray cat in the garden
pads among the thyme.

And Not in a Good Way

My prehensile mind
does not grasp well.  Its hands reach,
touch, yet are empty.

The Rush of Freeways...

The rush of freeways
is a sort of silence.
I immerse myself.

Partly…

flowers bloom because
of rain. Without gray, there’s no
yellow or purple.

Something a Friend of Mine Wrote [Unedited]

I want to end with this: Life is wonderful, but it is not for certain nor should you take it for granted. It's easy to get loaded down in the mundane and the routine, chaining yourself to chores, jobs, responsibilities. While we all need that kind of stability, it should never be allowed to become your reason for living but rather just the things you do that get you to your joy. Find your joy, embrace it, make it flourish and grow, celebrate your joy with others and help them to celebrate theirs. Your life is a precious and fragile thing and you only get this one shot... please, don't waste it.

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 I totally needed this reminder today.