




It’s sometimes like divesting
myself of another
of you
I no longer care to be concerned
about your coming and going
this is natural? it happens with
lanky children who
grow up and move
their own boulders of sand
and we let them
But here it’s different
there is a deep, intimate knowing
distinct from that of parents
and children
Your signature is requested by
such & such a date, if unanswered
then by default our union is
legally unbound.
But our history; our family tree
remains. It courses in our children’s veins.
This investment remains
with
holding
on
I could measure my time in chapters of days with you
and days without
the story started long ago
this chapter is without
I know not its number
but it must have a 2 in it
it starts as I’m driving home after dropping you off
I can’t remember the song on the radio but it made me cry
Then there’s a week
(maybe 2)
when I cry often
and regain my
equilibrium
I sleep deeply
nap daily
I hold back because it all feels too much
my neck hurts to turn
backwards glancing at all that
beautiful amazing cloud-filled water
and my legs yell at me
from my right knee joint as if afraid
to walk forward
I declare
what I need to do
but don’t do it
Oh but wait
I remember now
now I look back and see
the way I walked anyway
why do I feel guilty for what I did and what I didn’t do at the same time?
for what I do and do not
for my voice and my silence equally
for who I am called to be
it is useless and profits me nothing
Then after stretching my arms
up
out
and pulling myself around
and down
and inside
I realize that I no longer need that guilt
I breathe in deeply
and my heels reach for the earth
one step at a time
Are you trying to figure out what
you learned?
from this past year?
Are you trying to carve out
your takeaways?
As if to memorialize yourself this
moment as a statue hewn
& chipped and shaped-by
what was taken away?
Or are you adding it up by what
you put on... like a sweater
on a spring day
when the birds taunt the
cat through your open window?
and it's nice but the breeze feels a little cool
and empty.
Are you trying to smooth the rough
edges? Are you grinding them
down or subduing them like
your hand rubbing over the wrinkles on
your bedspread.
However you shape them,
call them out.
Let their workings find their
way into
your fingertips.
Stop being quiet about
taking and wanting and
asking for what you need
from it!
Plant it in your tongue.
Sesame and sandalwood glow
Jesus I am stuck in silence sometimes
But hold onto me cuz my cumulus soil is gonna shine green
For my reach covers the un- in unnameable
This poem is in response to the NaPoWroMo Day Three prompt which was to create poem from your own Personal Universal Deck, a tool originated by poet and playwright, Michael McClure. I confess I did not adhere to his rules and found it especially hard to limit to only one abstraction – Guess I’m a concrete rebel! Maybe I will make another deck and try to follow all the rules..? Here are the rules in case you want to try for yourself.

The first poem I wrote on April 1st, 2021 was sometime past midnight and I was drunk. My handwriting was so sprawling that I can barely make it out.
Now let me be clear, the last time previous to this that I can remember being drunk like that – I mean the kind of drunk where you reach for the hallway wall and openly proclaim, “Shit, I’m drunk!” was almost 30 years ago.
These days I explore my road less taken. It has been there all along. I’ve cleared back some of the overgrowth and I find wonder there.
I feel maybe I’m on a quest!
A quest to love myself
Honestly
Openly
Passionately
Freely
To speak my beautiful Given truth that’s not even mine but speaks through me
And if that means getting drunk once every 30 years or so and laughing and writing about this moment on this adventure,
Then cheers to the road ahead!
