Chorus of Blue

Freewrite: Rumination

Posted by in Writing

Because it’s the best I can doNot to be less than thisWhen all the goodness That the universe has to offerIs right here, in receptionAnd I am full of gratitudeand worry, overwhelm and self-loathingThere are ways to be more, I thinkI have engaged in all of themI have achieved such normalcyThat I hardly recognized myselfAnd then bound so far beyond itThat I got dual sessions Free of chargeNew prescriptions I would never fillSelf awareness, it seems, is not an adequate indicator of controlBecause you see what you need to see…read more

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Freewrite: Ennui #1

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I sitin the box, legs cocked up in rebellion the sunroof wide openlike the thighs of a hookerletting in heat; or the roar of the wind breaking. I sit in skinny jeans and tan socksbecause I want to be what I used to be but I’m not. So also, a long dress that falls mid-shinand shell top shoes still intact on the broad side. I wantto get out of hereto take a moment for teaand attention to breath to get lost in the bird talk I long to decipher. But…read more

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Freewrite: Lament

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Mourning the Drop- Like dew, evaporatedDissipating: a flock of birdsScattered in the sun Or- Spinning through a rainstormThe the halted quiet: overpassAll the mercy in that momentIn an instant: gone. What sudden sadness is this?Thick and wavering;The weight of my lament:This crushing heart-song? All those chemicalsSwirling indiscriminateSo wicked, so heartless With a wave of disregard Rise up! I say. Welcome!What joy! What merriment! Dopamine! Oxytocin! Come! Come! Come! Taunting me with alwaysAnd leaving me with never; He made us in pairs, they sayHow cruel, says the heart.

FREEWRITE: Lost to-

Posted by in Writing

Thunder claps and groans:
Drives me -in a frenzy-
to the balcony
A deluge of rain
splashing
along the mosaic banister

I arrange crates
coffee
pillows
the tiny glass table
I have grown to love

Light cheap incense
(…more)

FREEWRITE: An Arrangement

Posted by in Freewrites, Poetry, Poetry, Writing

You ask me to consider an arrangementI have always liked daffodils, after allEven if they no longer smell sweet. So I stare at them, frozen in timeBrightening up the corner of a dark roomIn a dull, familiar way. You ask me to consider this arrangementIn lieu of any other; to settle upon almost lovelyInstead of fresh and new and slated to die You imply the risk, it is not directly statedOr maybe that part is me and my own apprehensionsSo many new arrangements have wilted and died. And you insist…read more