Persnickety Postings

How

2010-01-18T19:47:00.000-08:00

I don’t know how to let you go and live without you here.

I don’t know how to keep you close and let you in for fear.

I don't know how to talk to you or how to help you hear.

I don’t know how to trust your words, so different from your deeds.

I don’t know how to tell you all the little wants and needs.

I don’t know how to let you help, to let you take the lead.

I don’t know how to need you,only that I do.

I only know I want you, and I hope you want me too.

Atonement (WIP)

2009-09-28T17:34:00.000-07:00

Sorry only says so much, and often it's just not enough.
There are some things you cannot mend, lines that just refuse to bend;
Truths you simply can't deny, lies it takes too much to hide.
Sorry only says so much, and often it's just not enough.
It's the things you do to show you care,
the ways you love and live that bring to bear
your true regret.
Sorry only says so much, and often it's just not enough.
You can't atone alone.

Never Enough

2009-07-21T00:49:00.000-07:00

I’ll never be the son you wanted,
The man I should have been.

I’ll never be the chosen one,
The one with thinner skin.

I’ll never be enough for you,
Because I am not him.

It wouldn’t matter if I were,
You’d find some other sin.

I can’t compete in life or death.
I’ll never, ever win.

Home

2009-04-24T01:02:00.000-07:00

Home is where hope, hugs, and high expectations live.
It’s the smell of chicken baking in the oven, bread rising on the counter, and Pine Sol mopped floors.
It’s the sound of brothers playing, mama singing, and the soft and happy silence after bed time.
Home is where heart, health, and silly jokes make everything else ok.
It’s the feel of clean sheets, splashing in the tub, and Legos buried in the carpet under bare feet.
It’s the sight of piled laundry, artwork on the fridge, and pictures on every wall.
Home is where messes are made, booboos are kissed, and you always have a place.
It’s the taste of success, of failure in spite of your best efforts, and mama’s apple pie.
It’s the promise of acceptance, the comfort of routine, and knowing you are wanted.
Home is where you love, are loved, and want to be.

Blinding Damage.

2008-11-02T22:32:00.000-08:00

He stood there, bright eyed and tow headed
singing boldly and beaming with pride.
He tried his best to sing all the words,
keeping time with the kids who knew,
the kids who fit.
He couldn't see that anything was wrong.
He clutched that book, shouted that song,
and connected with the world in new and awesome ways.
And you missed it.
You sat there, angry and pig-headed,
blinded by your baggage and drowning in your damage.
You tried your best to form the words
inflicting pain and causing hurt,
a hurt you just won't own.
You couldn't see that you were wrong.
You shut your heart, and closed your mind,
And refused to see him meet the world in new and awesome ways.
And you missed it.
You missed another opportunity.
You missed another milestone.
You missed another smile, another joy, another day.
You missed it all.
But I,
I was there.

Should

2008-11-02T22:01:00.000-08:00

I should have known better
than to trust you with my heart.
I should have known better
than to give you the truth.
I should have known better
than to hope you'd know what to do.
I should have known better
than to make you so important.
I should have known better,
but I didn't.
I trusted you with my heart,
and you broke it.
I gave you the truth,
and you made it a weapon.
I hoped you'd know what to do,
and you failed to do it.
I made you important,
and you made me invisible.
I didn't know better when I should have,
but I do now.

Where I Come From*

2008-10-01T09:53:00.000-07:00

I come from many streets that all lead nowhere,
and houses that were never ours, from moving boxes and strange places and customs not my own.
I come from babies crying and mama singing,
the smell of cakes in the oven and the sound of her sewing machine.
I come from Loretta and Raymond,
Soldiers, each in their own way.
I come from Legos, monster trucks, and Franken-Barbies,
wrestling, sand boxes, swings, and dancing to the music in our heads.
I come from salsa, beans and rice, tortillas on the comal,
and my mother's lasagna too big for the pan, but only on holidays.
I come from "You can, and you will", "They don't know you", and "Don't let them win."
I come from a place where knowledge is power, the best things come from nothing, and everything is earned.
I come from Pride and Tenacity.
I come from a place rooted in love and family
a place that is constantly changing and growing
a place that thrives on togetherness and accomplishment.
That, is where I come from.

*This was a writing exercise in a seminar I attended last weekend. It's based on the poem "Where I Come From" by F. Isabel Campoy seen in the Second Creative Activity found here. I liked it so thought I'd share.

Hold Me

2008-02-14T09:04:00.000-08:00

Hold me down
to drown them out
Kill me in the process

Hold me tight
to hide the light
Blind me with that kindness

Hold me up
to keep me dry
Lose me in the blandness

Hold me close
to keep me safe
Hurt me in that harness

But hold me close
to simply hold me
Find me in the caress

Baby Blues

2008-01-10T14:15:00.001-08:00

To my Victor and my Oscar

Little fingers
Little toes
Big blue eyes
And button nose
I've spent a lifetime
Making do
But nine short months
On making you
My little boy
My heart and soul
You brought me back
And made me whole
Now I live
To see you through
To give you more
Than making do

Lunch With A Republican

2008-01-10T14:00:00.001-08:00

A tempest brews in the sanctuary of my thoughts
behind the smile that feeds you, masking my contempt for you, encourages you to continue sharing your venom.
You've found an ally, a believer, a right thinker, maybe even a friend, or so you think.
I fill my mouth with food rather than bite my tongue or unleash the truth.
The Gods forbid I speak too soon.
Bleeding heart liberals, immigrants, and welfare trash will destroy the country your (our) ancestors fought so hard to build.
Suddenly I am full.
I wipe away the residue of lunch clinging to my face and with it the facade.
The sanctuary can no longer contain the tempest.
You are drenched in the fury of a heart that bleeds for the innocent, incapable, and the absent minded.
Awash in the horror of dissent,
you take your lunch to go.

For Lack of a Penis

2008-01-10T13:58:00.000-08:00

Failed faery tales and disembodied dreams
Masculinity not desired and apology not an option.

The men in my family,
Proud Mexican men
Have first born sons.
They have daughters too.
But not first,
Never first.
What then, was he to do with me.
The audacity with which I entered the world,
first in line, potentially the only one in line.
What was I thinking,
leaving my womb without my penis?
A mistake that would earn me a lifetime
of reminders of my inadequacies.
An affront to his masculinity, his machismo.
He blamed my mother,
said she didn't eat enough meat
to make a boy.
In seventh grade,
we learned about sex,
the kind you have and the kind you are.
Funny how one little stroke is all that separates
an X from a Y.
I told my father that he was to blame
for my lack of a penis.
That I hadn't forgotten it at all.
There was never a penis to forget.
Again with the audacity,
the affront,
and this time, it was me who didn't eat enough meat
to keep me sane.
God is punishing me he said, but I was the one who got the spanking.
He left.
Reproductive disappointment overwhelmed him.
Three sons could not make amends for
the usurper,
for me.

His failed faery tales and disembodied dreams,
Masculinity not desired and apology not an option.
At least not by me.

Birth Day

2008-01-10T12:27:00.000-08:00

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, stroking his face, wiping away the single tear that managed to wrest itself free and trickle down her cheek. “I did my best. It wasn’t enough. I’m sorry little one. I’m so very sorry.” Barely breathing, she clutched the baby closer to her chest and planted a whisper of a kiss on her newborn’s cheek before the nurse whisked him away. She watched as the nurse lifted him from her chest, held him securely in her steady arms, tucked in his blanket, craftily hiding the giant bruise and burgeoning lump on the top of his head, and brushed his nose with her fingertip playfully before holding him up to say goodbye to his mama. “So cute,” the nurse beamed as she looked back and forth between the swaddled dumpling of a baby and his mother, who stared after them even as her vision blurred and her head swam. Muffled voices reassured her that he was healthy, everything would be fine. The trip to the nursery was routine and he’d be back in no time they said. “Relax,” said the clearest voice. “You need some stitches and some rest. Relax your knees and let us help you.”
She closed her eyes against the nausea, against the voices, against it all for just a second, and they were gone.

When she awoke, everyone was gone. All that remained with her of her son was a blood soaked sheet, crumpled and unceremoniously shoved into the bio hazard bin, and an ache in her pelvis. Light seeped into her room through the cracks around the door and under the inept privacy curtain. Without lifting her head, she searched for the call button to let the nurses know she was awake. Her mouth was painfully dry and her breasts were throbbing with an unfamiliar fullness. Her fingers found a button and greedily pressed it, launching her feet into the air. She found another and lowered them back down again. This time, she turned her head and squinted her eyes to find the call button, careful not to contort herself any further. She found the nurses button, pressed it, and waited for her savior in scrubs to come and vanquish the desert-like dryness in her throat and give her an update on the little man that had wreaked such havoc on her body.
The nurse arrived, pushing a clear, plastic bassinet before her. Inside the bassinet lay her little baby burrito, bruised, swollen, and asleep, but otherwise perfect. The nurse leaned over the sleeping baby and picked him up, careful not to wake him as she moved him from the cold plastic box to the warm, waiting arms of his very tired mother. "Hello little one. Happy birthday, my sweet prince" she said, drawing him close and kissing the skid mark her pelvis had left on his forehead. The nurse smiled and turned to fill the too-little-used water pitcher that sat on the bedside table. In her absence, the nervous mother touched every inch of her son. Gently, she ran her hands all over his tiny form, assuring herself that the doctor and nurses had been right. He was fine, healthy, and hers. He was.
The nurse returned with the water and a busy little machine, that looked like a box on a stick, to take her vitals. The water was enough to nearly make her weep for joy. She gulped it down greedily, dispensing with the formality of a cup and drinking straight from the pitcher, careful not to spill any on the tiny, stirring bundle in her lap. The nurse laughed softly, and lifted the baby so his mother could drink her fill and be examined. She placed him safely in his bassinet, then turned back to his mother. After a quick conversation about pain and comfort levels, she unceremoniously lifted the sheets to check the giant pad wedged between her legs for signs of hemorrhage. There were none, so she replaced the sheet and moved on to the less revealing parts of the exam. Temperature, blood pressure, abdominal massage. All fine. Pushing the bassinet up to the edge of the bed, the nurse left, taking her cold hands and machinery with her, and leaving the mother alone with her son for the first time.
A delicate silence settled in the room. The boy lay in his swaddling blankets, quietly wriggling his feet and hands in an attempt to free himself and see the world outside the plastic box. The woman lay in her bed, wrapped in sheets and warming blankets, shifting uneasily from one hip to the other, trying to find a position of comfort and safety against the cold and glaring lights of the world outside her room.

Awakening

2007-04-10T14:18:00.000-07:00

Darkness surrenders as daylight flickers into being
Climbing skywards
Crawling stumps and concealed blossoms coming out of shadows
And into their own
The world takes on a new face, breathes new life into her people
Everywhere changed
By the light

Pyre

2006-12-01T14:01:00.000-08:00

Carefully arranged,
He lay there.
Hair tied back,
Exposing his beautiful face,
Hiding the proof of his autopsy.
Arms crossed gently across his chest,
Tucked quietly beneath the native blanket,
As if to keep him warm,
He waited.
He seemed ready.
We hesitated,
Resisted,
Refused,
And then relented.
Each in our own time,
We said goodbye.
Touched his hair,
Kissed his cheek one last time,
Hugged him softly,
So as not to reveal the Y shaped scar
Carefully concealed beneath his arms and blanket.
When all were done,
She gave him sage
To guide him on his journey home.
He seemed relieved.
The oven warmed while we grieved.
The door opened slow and wide.
The warmth and light of the oven's flames
Reached for him greedily.
He preferred ashes to dust.
As the sage and sinew burned,
They fell together,
The sacred herb and remnants of his physical form
Inseparable in death
As they were in life.

Submerged

2006-09-10T14:16:00.000-07:00

I am a stone
solid
cold
rough around the edges
constant
Their expectations weigh on me
press me deeper
into the earth
weakening
The mud hides the cracks they don't want to see
their cause
my effect
crumbling

Redemption

2006-07-10T14:18:00.000-07:00

Carve forgiveness into my flesh.
Let my blood wash softly,
shimmering and snake-like,
over my body,
crimson like wine
draining the poison and the sin

And He Was Gone

2006-01-10T13:43:00.000-08:00

The Earth held her breath that day,
just for a second, so no one noticed,
not right away, while she reclaimed her first son,
called him home and away from us.
Quietly, calmly and without explanation or apology
he stole away and after him there was a hole, a void.
With each tear it grew wider,
with each gasp deeper until
we were all enveloped and consumed by it.
She held her breath, but only for a second.
And he was gone.

Invitation to Reconnect

2005-12-10T14:15:00.000-08:00

The mindless clatter of my waking life
drowns out her whispers, forcing me to wait.
But in my dreams, she calls to me.
Her voice soft and clear.
Crisp like cold air.
She takes me by the hand
and leads me to the river's edge.
Challenges me to let go,
loose control,
and reconnect.
Let the waters rush over me
and cleanse my soul
from the outside in.
I worry about the darkest places
not getting the healing,
cleansing waters they need.
She assures me,
comforts me
as she pushes my head down
into the icy waters.
I wade
through the pain,
the darkness,
the waves of anguish
and awareness.
I wait for the waters
to work their magicks
and reuinte me with her,
with the ways I've always known were mine,
with myself.

Awake and Aware

2005-09-14T11:52:00.000-07:00

Awake and dreaming do I sit.
Watching the world through a tiny slit
between the curtains. Pictures flit
before my eyes. A second split
between the lies, tightly knit
and revolve around the bit
of truth you subtly spit
in my direction as you see fit.

Unrelenting Labour

2005-08-11T14:25:00.000-07:00

Time sneers
at a dark form
in the foolish silence.

Attracted by the candle's golden flame
and silver enchantments,
he labors.

Until, overcome by the burning morn,
he succumbs to rest,
at last.

Candles

2005-07-15T12:05:00.000-07:00

Candles are like doors
Into the confines of prayer
Like words on breath
They melt away.

First Cup

2005-07-05T12:15:00.000-07:00

In the beginning
Warm cappuccino blends with a laugh
Chocolate shavings curled and scattered
Weave rich and delicious boundaries
Of a relationship not yet formed

Dancing

2005-07-05T12:07:00.000-07:00

Dancing into darkness
Lightning flashes haunting colors
That interrupt my destruction
Restless whispers
End my madness
Playing in the moment
Of failing dreams and shattered chaos
The apparitions claw their way into reality
Death gleaming in their eyes and desire on their breath
They cling to the memories that keep them alive
As do I.

Our Yesterdays

2005-06-30T14:21:00.000-07:00

Misguided promise of innocence and love
Its embrace consumes me
Brings with it an awareness
And shades of redemption
Together they summon
My stolen light
Before sentencing me
To the darkness
That delivers me to the grief
That withers and dissolves
My strength, my resolve
And leaves me alone with
The ashes of our yesterdays

Tempest

2005-06-22T14:23:00.000-07:00

In the beautifully raging skies
Thunder sounds
Like a savage whisper
Striking lonely
And in Anger
To destroy
In the wet and heavy air
Energy pulsates
Like a heart beat
Racing faster
And in anticipation
Of release
Amidst it all
I stand,
With bare feet
Near naked
Feeding on her energy,
Her life.
Taking it in to replace what I’ve lost,
Replenish what she took from me,
The rain washing away the sorrow and the grief.
Thunder crashing and clapping,
Snapping me awake and into awareness.
Lightning illuminating even the darkest of secrets,
And bringing them out to be cleansed.

Merit Badge

2005-06-18T12:00:00.000-07:00

I wear loneliness like a boy scout wears a merit badge,
but laugh with a strange and delicious ease at your discomfort.
Understanding your questions,your grave concerns,
but too dead inside to give you the answers you deserve.

Numb

2005-03-11T14:07:00.000-08:00

I watch her walk through my life, wearing my face and answering to my name.
I feel her going through the motions, changing diapers, washing my hair, buying the groceries, but I do not really feel.
Numb to the core. My legs feel like they are not my own.
My mind wanders in and out and leads me both home and astray. My life is like a movie, and I have a front row seat, but no date and I forgot the popcorn.
Something is missing.
But she can’t figure out what it is. I can’t put my finger on it, on anything.
The persistent proverbial fog has yet to lift.
So I watch her wander, through my childhood, adolescence, adulthood so far, childbirth, motherhood, joy, exaltation, loss and grief.
I watch her sink; fall farther away from herself, from me, until there is nothing left to watch.
The screen is blank.
The silence overwhelms me as I drown in recognition.
I have allowed my grief to consume me, define me. Slowly, painfully, the tears come and wash the fog away.
It was easier to be numb, to be flat, to be the audience. The hot salty tears etch canyons in my cheeks as they make their way to my chin and then fall to the ground.
Each one forcefully reminding me that I have too long been away from myself, too long denied them their release, afraid to confront the pain and uncertainty they represent.
Too long.
Grieving takes too long.

A Strange Thing, Memory

2004-12-26T14:03:00.000-08:00

It's the little things I remember.
The under-roos and the wrestling moves,
Saturday morning cartoons and spontaneous outbursts of song.
The Garbage Pail Kids stickers on everything
And the arguments over nothing.
It's a strange thing, memory.
How it dredges up the smallest, seemingly meaningless, events
And plays them over and over again.
Like my own personal drive in theater without the stale popcorn and heavy breathing.
You're gone, but my memory refuses to let you go.
Instead, insisting on reminding me of every peanut butter and jelly-stained sandwich we ever shared, every prank we ever pulled, every gray hair we ever caused our mother, and every second we ever wasted.
You're gone, and it's the little things I remember.
The nausea I felt when she told me you were dead.
The smell of sage and chemicals in the funeral home.
The way your hair fell softly away from your face as we said goodbye.
The kindness you inspired in strangers.
It's a strange thing, memory.
But it's all I have left of you.

Dangling Perceptions

2001-03-12T13:57:00.000-08:00

The Gods
My mother
I hated them all once upon a time
Hate is a strong word
intentionally
Strong but inept
Afraid is better, more to the point
but weaker
And weakness is a sin
Sin
is a failure to meet all of the
expectations laid upon you, me, us
By the Gods
and Mom alike
I used to dangle
on their impending disappointment
my impending failure
They had no reflection, authority, purpose, except in me
Funny
In me
The one who hated them all.

Swimming

2000-12-10T13:56:00.000-08:00

I watch as you drown
offer my hand
refused
You drown as I cry
offer my tears
accepted
You ask as I answer
offer more questions
ignored
We watch as we die
offer no resistance
expected

The pool is full.

Dry Desperation

2000-10-03T13:47:00.000-07:00

My soul
cries out
low
to comfort
it
the child
the man
the woman
all confused
combined
contorted
lost
in a sea
of destinations
without
water.

Potential

2000-05-10T13:47:00.000-07:00

For a brief moment
we both were me.
Inhabiting time and
space as one.
Parted too soon and
yet not soon enough.
Reluctantly torn from me.
Each of us screaming
and sighing in relief.
Where once you were
there is a void.
Only the question now-
If we were me,
without you,
who am I?

As of Yet, I Am

2000-02-10T13:48:00.000-08:00

I am
an ass tomorrow I could die having spent today complaining about the burdens of my life
an ass
Self absorbed indulgent thick headed ignorant possession of my soul seemingly inescapable abyss of existential pity-Werther would be proud-what a quick study
I am
an ass some tomorrow I will die hoping that yesterday was spent on something other than myself-redemption
an ass

I Am, Daddy.

2000-01-10T13:59:00.000-08:00

I am your daughter.
I was your biggest fan.
No more.

You know that you used to have five children.
And that somewhere you lost the oldest.

But you don't know your daughter.
Your pretty princess has been sacrificed
to the dragon of reality
so that you can maintain the illusion
that you are a god
and we are your faithful.
You also don't know that
You were a god to her.
No more.
That god is dead to this kid.

I am your daughter.
I was your biggest fan.
No more.