Mindful In Tatters

•September 18, 2014 • 1 Comment

Some part of me
Is always manic
Maniacally too much
Having some
But wanting more
It always costs me
Balance of imbalance
I have found
No way around it
It is merely a matter
Of my reigning in
Which loose end
While the next is left
Mindfully in tatters


Bipolar by Dr. Taha H. Malasi


•September 18, 2014 • 5 Comments

Opaque vinyl curtain that clings to me
When I step in the shower and try to get clean
Not quite as romantic as cotton or glass
I feel so Saran-wrapped when you stick to my ass



Reposted because this happens regularly and, to spite myself, I still react.

Morning Fertilizer Regrind

•September 17, 2014 • 2 Comments

This morning
I shuffle still
Slightly In sleep
To that steaming
Bubbling altar
Of chemical awareness
My bedtime bun
Disheveled and askew
Imbalance tugging at
My heavy head
A leaning tower
Of convenience
Craving that first sip
But in my mouth
It turns to dirt
And gritty earth
With aversion
To the taste
Of mineral and tin
But maybe while
I dump this out
And grind away again
Some ingested seed
Will germinate and sprout
Crowding out the nausea
Of early morning doubt

– a.r.

Coffee Pot Planter2

A Mess

•September 15, 2014 • 6 Comments

I want
To be unruly
Unkempt and unyielding
Like my daughter’s hair
In the morning
A mess of matted tendrils
From sweat and tossing
Turning with fevered dreams
Nightmarish scenes
Unable to be straightened out
Or worked through without ripping
Some bit of screaming
Cursing the task at hand
“Damn you”
“Fuck you” even
Leave me alone
Let me be matted and messy
All parts of me tangled
With and caught in each other
Perhaps today
I will not untangle myself but leave
The strands of me in shambles
Smelling of tortured sleep
Looking like hell
And hurling defiance
At the world


Hair Jaclyn ConleyUntitled painting by Jaclyn Conley

Staircase Descended

•September 12, 2014 • 3 Comments

Today I sit on the bottom step,
No fear of falling down.
But I cannot shake the feeling,
Another me sits up there reeling;
It’s getting tough not to turn around.


staircase scary

Bracelet (Repost)

•September 11, 2014 • Leave a Comment

Today I wear a bracelet
Which is thirteen years old
I wear it this day every year
For memories, lessons that it holds

It was made for us in gratitude
For being there and holding up
The families of those who died
That somber day in Washington

Crafted by hand in Glory’s colors
That once were bright without a mark
Each year the colors fade a bit
And the beads become more scarred

At first I made an effort
To keep it quite pristine
But on this day I realize
Value is not in keeping clean

The dirt and scratches simply show
Thirteen years of life we’ve lived
We’re not defined by cracks and tears
But by what of ourselves we give

Dear bracelet, you’ll be on my wrist
On this very day each year
Until one of us lets go that thread
Life well worn out for those not here


BraceletThe  bracelet made, and given to me, by a volunteer at the Pentagon days after September 11, 2001 to thank those of us who escorted families to view the site where their loved ones died that horrific day. I am proud to have stood there with them, to have wept with them, to have heard about their loved ones, to have been available. It is one of my saddest, but proudest, days in the military.

A Choice

•September 9, 2014 • 2 Comments

Are the stray hair
Caught in my eyelash there
During silent sitting
Are the hot knot
Churning hungry in my gut
While I am sitting still
Are the bones
Below my toes grinding
Into the ground
When I chose not to move
Are the decision
I may have to make
Once I get up
To go through my day
For now will simply feel
The tug and sting in my eye
The rot and rumble in my gut
The gristly grating in my bones
The desire to choose in my chest
Will sit with


frida-kahlo-the-broken-columnThe Broken Column, Frida Kahlo


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