Lie a Little Longer

Is it really so hard to understand?

Are you so guiltless?

In the minutes before I bend my knees to the dead wood of the confessional

I find myself confronting the horfrost

Of your persecution and my own confused shame.

You ask “Why?” And I find the heavy heat of incredulity suffocating.

As if you yourself are without the freckling on your conscience

And I alone have ever sinned.

Standing before you in this moment I am a gymnast in the cavern of my own chest;

Anxiety the hand waving about my rapidly devolving excuses like a ribbon.

My knees crack against the base of our private altar as the trumpet’s hollow brass rings out and the ribbon falls still.

I wrap myself in self preservation, felted and cheap though it is, and choose to lie a little longer.

10 Years



At twenty-eight I’ve put away childish things.

I still believe that people get what they earn

and reap what they sow.

I still believe in fairy-tales, dragons,

and monsters in the dark.

I still believe in white knights and glass slippers.

I still believe in true love

and good conquering all.

I still believe

but in the past ten years I’ve learned

that believing something doesn’t make it real.


The desire or expectation that life is to be lead with immediacy and moments are to be responded to instantly with little time for reflection, meditation, or the process of simply “being”.

Cry Just a Little

Today is one of those days that I wish I could cry.

Even just a tear or two.

It has to feel better than the heavy smile I keep dragging up my face.


I cry.

I weep.

I break

down and

I howl.

Rivers rush


Then the waters

recede and

the fallow fields

grow green again.