Chorus of Blue

The children away at campExcept the little oneAnd the half child, hanger-on I think how good it would be to be without themAnd how lonely in the big bedSave the cat, lip swollenStaring in contempt I sleep with wild dreams All the anxieties coming to playIn the new half-quietMy daughter’s warm long bodyTaking up space. The strange desperation:getting to school on time and painful adventures in uncomfortable classroomstrying to find a way out and a way in at the same time. The always present impossibility of geolocation for our physical…read more

here in the glow of you the ache finds a new place somewhere, somehow distant from my heart and i said: quiet dont talk about the future its funny that way loves a long-term art then patience for passion or miles to temper what fingers would fondle that quiet words start and whispers of always turned laughter at never the aching of distance your loving imparts -KH

I’m gonna listen to all the right songs And watch all the wrong movies And cry and despair And scream and hate you and love you And want you and need you And feel the great wincing relief that it’s over. You’ve made it so And maybe you hoped I would fight But it was already over. Your kisses had become hard and stale And your love, soft And useless to me. Once I convinced myself Once I said, I rather be unhappy than be alone. But you wouldnt. So…read more

I wake to tiny feet And long legs Always perpendicular to my body But parallel to my heart And you will grow weary Of my bad jokes and silly puns As I grow tired of your always-presence Though we’ll each miss them when they’re gone. But now, at seven You’ve taken up that role of the bad comedian Much better than I, Here at 35, once was. So I don’t change your angle anymore Or carry you to your bed. Instead I wake and hold your feet in my hands…read more

After a while, things keep going wrong, and you start to feel the urge to dig deeper. That’s not to say, I am not fully aware of where I’ve been mistreated, transgressed upon, oppressed, wronged… hurt, betrayed. That’s not to say, I have been the imperfection in a perfect world. No, I know things have been wrong on the other side of this coin for a long time, many coins, repeatedly. But, after a while, you look at that common denominator and realize… there has to be something, some failure,…read more

Here in the wee hours After prayer and prostration The panic of hours settles in So much can be done in darkness So much that nothing will be done at all So I contemplate you and I and him also What we or he and I could have become How broken we all must be to never become anything more than shattered pieces of little stories that will never be finished Fables and fairytales that will never be told. I thought I saw you Wild and beautiful And him too…read more

You told me in not so many words that you cannot love me when you’re hurting You cannot take an interest in who or what I am while licking your own wounds I look at the smooth chip of skin placed softly amidst the wrinkles of my third knuckle and infer a diagnosis: Even when I draw blood not even the feigning of concern How bored I must be to tolerate this not-so love How many years might I wait for you to notice Me.

I have not been able to write in a couple months. I’m not sure what it is… depression, distraction, lack of motivation? I am not making time for a daily practice of ANYTHING. Writing, prayer, showering, eating a regular meal, a simple morning routine, regular sleep… nothing. It’s all chaos and by the seat of my pants lately. I’m weary of it. I have so much on my heart and mind, but it seems to stop short of my finger tips. So for now, let’s start with journaling. Whether it’s…read more