"Full House Funeral"

"reveal something"

I want to end it all
As the kind of person that
Fills the funeral home to
Standing room only with

Maybe a line stretching
Out into the street and
Snaking around the corner.
No one reading my death
Notice will say “Oh, that’s too
Bad.” like it could have been

Anyone else’s heart that had
Stopped beating and they just
Heard the News. I want tears, break-
Downs, empty boxes of tissues.

From my coffin, I don’t want to
Hear the time filled up by
Rehashed sermons and
People reassuring one another

That I’m in a better place, I
Want people lining up to tell
Stories of my kindness and
Then to realize that they also

Want a funeral with a full
Parking lot and front page
Spread in the hometown
Newspaper and go out and
Live their lives to make it happen.

Photo Card

Merry Montage Christmas

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"Drops of Liking"

Drops of liking

Spatter the roof,

Oozing their way

Through every  

Crack to the room

Littered with chipped

China teacups, frying

Pans, and flower pots

Scattered on nightstands,

Mantels, and worn

Turkish rugs, desperate to

Gather the bits of

Affection that might

Someday add up to love.

“TWINKLE”

Bustle, bustle tiny specks

You mad, foolish people-flecks,

Someday, you will burn out too

So try to twinkle til you do.

prompt: "different perspective"

"To Swim Out to Touch the Skyline or Just Stay Here & Look.”

He stood, regarding the
Horizon as the ocean
Ate the sand from
Around his feet, sinking him

Deeper and deeper and
Deeper; the earth’s molten
Core warming his soles.
.
Should he shed his shirt and
Jeans like a snake wiggling
Between two rocks, leaving
Only the old shell of it’s

Former self, and dive in towards the
Sunset? Sharks might nibble at his
Elbows; Whales could sing him to sleep.

Swimming, floating, bobbing
Along, the salty water of sweat and
Tears would mix with the sea,

Maybe the level would rise and rise,
Munching away at the
Continents til the world was a peaceful

Plane of blue. He could throw his
Arm over the sun and pull himself up to lie
Down on the yellow flames to rest.
It might be peaceful, but then

Again he could just stay here and look.

“The Last Page”

Drunk

On the smell of

Ink, the story

Unfolds. Eyes

Race from left to

Right to left

Again, like an over-

Wrought typewriter.

Pages turn,

Turn,

Turn,

Turn.  The end is

Looming, happily or

Not.

"Word-Eating"

Road signs, romance

Novels, headlines from

Trashy magazines in the

Checkout line.  She just

Can’t help it. Her eyes

Devour the letters of their

Own accord, words

Swimming behind her

Eyelids like coy in a pond,

Fattening her brain with the

Banal and the brilliant.

“Needle & Thread”

There’s a hole in the

Pocket of the world and

All the good is spilling out. 

Straddle the sea, where

Gold coins can plop and

Splash a sopping offering;

Make a wish, but wish

Only for good things, and

Maybe a needle and

Thread to stitch it up again.

"Winter Coat"

Shiny black buttons

March down the front,

Topped by a Christmas

Red scarf, at long last

Braving the crisp air and

Churning leaves.  Sleeping

Away the summer, a

Secret tucked deep in a

Soft wool pocket. A

Forgotten note with three

Little words, nestled among

Gum wrappers and loose

Change; a little piece of

Happy to warm the

Winter months.