Recovery- To Take Back

It is only fitting, seasonally traditional, that I would jump back on the blog-wagon on/around January 1 of the new 2011 year. As we say in St. Louis (and as you probably have said in your respective cities, suburbs and residences), "it is what it is."

This has been half self-initiated. Not to begin the new year self-deprecating, but I do owe a thanks to those who have asked, "where are your poems" or "I've checked your blog and you haven't written". I do not have one or two reasons to excuse or create full understanding. There is a vulnerability here in this open cyber space, where regenerating, reloading, recreating has a limit that DNE (does not exist).

Like resolutions, like proposed solutions, Americans value effort, thought, (sometimes). A for Effort. Like dieting, goals can often be unattainable in how extreme and "cold turkey" they typically are. The emphasis, like Lent, is on what am I giving up. Alternatively, I ask, what am I adding? How is what I am doing contributing to growth? How do I define growth, what is healthy and positive for myself, with my relationships and my environment. Well, as most of you (whoever you are), I do tend to be flowery, poetic in speech and prose. I am interested in concrete this year. Not the cold, hard sidewalk stuff. But, concrete ideas and change. Not entirely sure what that is quite yet (there goes that vague poetic thread). It's all just part of the multitudes. And, if I ever want to get out of something, I'll just pull a Rilke: No feeling is final.

As in, this (whatever this is), is all subject to change.
And, if I want to be complacent in my powerlessness, I'll just say again: It is what it is. Shrink back and forget about it, until it comes around again.


Recovery, to take back. Blog recovered. Re-started, like an old car in the garage, or on the side of the house covered in snow, bird droppings. Sinking deeper into the mud and dead grass every day, week. Until, a choice chooses something new and different for its fate.



Free Write, Incipient Effort


(not a love poem)

it is hard to love without holding
to type, trust, treasure, to try
building bridges over oceans, from
north america to (fill in the blank)
construct a Great Wall stability to ensure crossing
travel to the arms of a beloved

love for many means "mine" "his wife or her wife"
alloy couples: joint accounts, titles, claims
piles of possessions
yielding protection clauses
money distorts love like badly blown glass

diamonds, tickets, cars, even a t-shirt
love as what can you give me,
a dangerous attitude indeed
give you myself, my fidelity
to possess and cherish
to have and to hold

but to love without holding?


each night i walk home alone in lamp lighted darkness
to cross a thousand miles to return to you each morning