Categories
Writing

Leaning In

Replying to the last of my clients and closing Outlook, I lament the ticket to D.C. that will go unused tonight. I fight back a tightness in my throat that I’ve come to understand needs two fingers of whiskey to solve at the end of the day. No one did this to me.

I always said you’re not ready to start your own company until you can’t remain at any other company.

Truthfully, I let myself steal from myself. I stole my future from myself. Procrastinating to avoid managing emotions about living. The reward of putting things off…that feeling becoming an addiction in itself. A dream adjacent my true dream.

My vision for this company is like rain. Cleaning out self-pity and distractions that tug at my memory, emotional reserves, concentration, and—

“¿Qué cenamos?”

“Dejame…”

He scurries away like I’ve just raised my hand to slap him. Maybe he’ll ask his father and be scared enough to actually leave me alone. I love my kids. I love my kids. I love them. But I can’t love my clients, kids, boss, husband, churchgoers, everyone! Can I?

I pour the whiskey and set my out of office email with no return date.

Categories
Writing

Mochi Will Cry

(At the end of the 8 page dog boarding packet)

In two (2) sentences only!!!!!! tell us about your dog:

Hello I’m so sorry, but I have to warn you, you cannot raise your voice above a firm ‘calling to’ at my dog because if you do he will cry incessantly and it sounds so sad it’s maddening and not worth the effort to endure or to explain the backstory. Good luck!

Categories
Writing

Alone In My Mind

With clanging whirlwinds

Still meditating—no breath—

My own voice unheard

Categories
Writing

In-Patients

Knock, hinges, then light

Gentle, cold touch as bill mounts

“like to go home please…”

Categories
Uncategorized

Fitting Ghost

I knew you were true so I boiled inside just looking at you.
Content believing anything outside an adulterer was a solid significant other.


Though, while you were here, I was so so sad, finding myself trailing the house like a sleepwalking phantom. Too exhausted to remember not to be found where I ought not. You married a ghost–a ghost that is so fitting for your temperament.
An eclipse of my whole self.
The listlessness an appropriate darker side.
Where you vowed to stay forever and guard it.
A flag on a shifting side of my moon, determined to be in shadow. While the war on earth began.
The trumpet marking the start of carnage was all of humanity showering my sunlight with arrows. A few billion lanses.

—-

I tilted my head forward a few inches to feel heat cloak my face and steam roll down to my collarbones. I inhaled the fiery gas and it burned through my nose hairs and throat. Like something more than water going through me. Looking into the shiny steel pot I saw flesh double over and whine. The meat would be nearly finished soon so a half sprig of thyme would need to be thrown in. Perfect timing!

“Hon, will you hand me the thyme from the cabinet?”


“What would you have done had I not come into the kitchen?

“Please. This morning is sweet. Just pass the thyme. Please…”
She passed it, but not without something to say about it.

“I’m wondering about that shelf you mentioned a few nights ago. The floating bookshelf?” She pauses waiting for me to respond to something that isn’t actually a question. “The one with the marbled plexiglass?”

I loathe that, regardless of being told a million times over, she insists on believing that if she simply inflicts her tones a certain way, she can goad people into answering for things like a guilty child. She intends to make me speak like a toddler on display because I have frustrated her by something as simple as dry herbs.

“Well, all I’m saying is you look like the proper lumberjack. It’d be nice to get some handiwork out of you is all. Not that I don’t enjoy you making organic food for the dog. It’s just…”

This little dance was the most tiring. I didn’t mind the mother-in-law-like nitpicking or the insinuation that me taking a while to build another bookshelf in the house that I built from scratch with our contractor made me less of a man. And of course I cook my dogs food from scratch. He’s a pure breed for goodness sake! But as is the nature of the storm that is my wife, a purposeful drip can be more uncomfortable than water boarding.

But I told her the same thing I told my sister and mom when they asked. “Hon, you are worth every drop of effort.” And it remained true as long as I kept saying it out loud. One day I wouldn’t have to say it at all. That’s my hope. Everyone married over twenty years says it just gets easier after that. We’re six years in and I’m wishing I could time-lapse the next fourteen years. “And you look hot as hell today!”

That seemed to please her and she waltzed out of the kitchen. If it weren’t for the way we level out in bed, I don’t know how long I could’ve kept this up.

“Honey, I’m here for you,” I call after affectionately.

“Well it’s like being here with a ghost!”

Categories
creative nonfiction Poetry Writing

Unloving Love

Today, I’m at the freehand on Ohio (19 E), feeling fortunate that I can leave

then to

somewhere to sleep the same night

then to

my need to rush the gauntlet where people (are meant to) battle to meet (but ultimately fall short of) my lofty expectations

then to:

negative ruminations behind

and a mind to be sure when this happens next time…

I’ll end the war in a loft

some place more than just “somewhere to sleep the same night”

Categories
Uncategorized

Should Not Even Be A Word

What is not gradient?
What flow of time isn’t eventual memory loss?

What remembrance wasn’t each day feeling the real thing less and less and then transferring sensation into delusional perception—for the sake of not fading?

What isn’t gradient?
It should not even be a word.

What catatonic love wasn’t daily forgetting why anything was worth the efforts?

Who is born as man?
Who is born, skin already taught?
Flesh nearly ready to burst?
Ready to give up into deadly

nothing but still


Floating into air like interpretive dance and all muscles pulsing?
Who is born man?

What song isn’t transition from now until the end?