Poem from my poetry chapbook: In the Feels

Dancing in Place

With eyes thrown wide
to let in the light I
thrust a fist to the
sky. My heart so high
a red balloon, it flies
away on heaven’s breath
away and away and away.

Onward to glory never
looking back never
touching down always
keeping the feet twinkling
with the toes. With a
whoop and a shout I
dance the stationery dance
of one who has known
joy. Feet tapping hands
clapping heart keeping
time. Dreams
escape and leap forth
on fairy wings and
cloven faun hooves
prancing in the light
until it changes and
comes from another
source just as bright.

My thoughts scatter,
skittering like Autumn
leaves a merry sound.

My victory lap is sweet
and the heat flushes
my cheeks but I don’t
care. It’s there, beating
in my chest pounding
upon its bony prison
to be let out where its
joy would know no
bounds. Exhausted I
fall to my knees and
yet every part of me
cannot contain itself.

Poem from my poetry chapbook: In the Feels

Walking Away

Wanting to say words
I know I shouldn’t
if only the pain wouldn’t
feel so much. Needing
to go, always stopping
at the door knowing
my regrets will be made
by your anger. The haze
just a phase that falls
down around my ears
dimming the sight more
wholely than night’s dark
blanket of stars. Cold anew
an attachment askew
a lifetime of never should
have dones and glad of
where I’ve beens. Closing
windows to block the
wind carrying sounds
of change of strange
ideas or feels. Now
weird and wired our
life is led by ourselves
outside ourselves. Myself
a stranger to the one
inside calling out as
friend in a voice
only known to a foe
as I know and go to
where I hear not the
chanting lament of my
dreams turning away
from me. I see I
see. I flee. And let them
go.

Poem from my poetry chapbook: In the Feels

Heavy Sigh

Words flowing, tumbling
from stumbling lips.

Hands grabbing hands no
other dance to be known
or shown with a shaking
head, a clenching jaw.

Scraping the pain from
my face with a weary
hand, a restlessness
that cannot be tamed.

Choices upon choices
with none to be the
decision the indecision
cleaving a breast in
three where a tree
may grow, however
slow before its shade
can offer relief.

Poem from my poetry chapbook: In the Feels

In the Feels

That moment when you
feel it wishing you
could heal it but
knowing there is no
use for it. And so you
let it go. Reaching,
never preaching of
something more, through
the next door or around
the next corner. Cruising
through life, through time
and space, running a
race you can’t win.

In the sun, in the rain,
you’ll see it again and
again. Plodding, leaping,
sliding through this
novel called life we
wait for that ever
lingering moment
when we feel Something
or anything because
we’ve all felt nothing
and that is no way
to travel. We all live
for the moments that
smash us, caress us,
careen into us like
drunken cats on just
washed floors,
paws splayed and
tail fluffed like a crazy
bottle brush with claws
until we slam into
someone else. Another
soul seeking to feel
something or anything.

Waiting for a sucker
punch right in the feels.

Image by: DTL
(http://mrg.bz/AsSBzi)

Poem from my poetry chapbook: In the Feels

Weak in the Knees

I became still when
they handed you to me.

Sucking in my breath
through my nose I
could smell the scent
of me and you combined.

Ten toes, ten fingers my
belly flat where once
you lingered and slept.

Welcome to the world my
little one, may the
joys and delights of
your earthly plunder
astonish me and blow my
eyes wide with wonder.

My heart, my love, my
boy among men, never
be what anyone tells
you to be but only
be that which you
can describe with a
rushing of blood and a
disorientation of place,
of space, of grace so
that you are made awkward
by the beauty of it.

Hold someone you love
and grow still, the kind
of stillness that makes
you suck in your
breath because you’ve
forgotten to breathe, been
brought to your knees,
forgotten your needs.

Poem from my poetry chapbook: In the Feels

Gut Punch

Hit me like a punch
to my gut make my
lunch wanna come
back to see the light of
day and night and day
is almost over yet I
hover waiting for the
frozen inevitable that
hangs suspended in
reality like a piece
of pineapple in a jello
mold. It grows old, so
I’m told to hold your
breath for the unachiev-
able, the unbelievable but
the undeniable truth is
that we have nothing
else to do with the
knowledge that has been
crammed down our
throats. Open up here
comes the train, the
plane, this is insane
I can’t swallow, can’t
follow where you lead.
I can only see, can’t
move my feet. My eyes
won’t blink and I think
this is it, the end, but
I pretend it’s not. I
take a breath and blow
it out and the world
begins to move.