The match burst unexpectedly into a flame
The tender tinder caught
An ignition of late-night discussions
That pursued verbal intercourse
Vulnerability exposed; naked
An incredible view from the mountain
Where true north was marked on our compass
The heat and warmth of intention
Splayed out in tranquility and mutual reliance
Invited to an adventure of a lifetime
We blazed new trails through trials
But apathetic time broke the compass
And people do what makes sense to them
The safe place became a wasn’t
And a not now, not ever.
The allure got eaten by silence
When all I wanted to hear was
“Don’t go.”
Tag Archives: lost
Dead City
I found myself in puddles of meltdowns
Oozing through the sidewalk cracks
The rawness of naked exposure
Seeping under the weeds.
I had to scrape my gooey emotions
Off the concrete where I stuck
Like melted gum on the bottom
of my own shoe
with a bullshit shovel shaped like my heart
To breathe took my breath away
My heart found no rhythm
In the pulse of the city
Where buses shuttled souls
By necessity or convenience to appointments
Where a prescription for life
Was offered but often denied.
Hollow Easter chocolate bunnies
Held more inside them than I did/could
They were far sweeter than me, too
Because my angry bitterness bit my hand
Gnawed on my fingers
as they pointed blame
At the shallow façade I masked myself with
The Ashes of Nobody
The ashes of nobodies
(No bodies?)
Are in a mausoleum
Placed on a shelf
Without ceremony
As if life repeats itself in death
Held without specific honor
No proof of ancestry
Tracing roots back to the dust
They’ve returned to
without a name or with
unknown cause or suppos-ed
forgotten or lost
As if life repeats itself in death
No words to dress them in Saint’s clothes
A hurried end without recompense
Humbly offered words of worth
They did exist here on earth
They dreamed the dreams of all of us
But the shelter line was drawn too high
The cracks they fell into, too deep
As if life repeats itself in death
Anger
This is what it feels like when it’s directed towards me:

What Once Was
I know I didn’t fall from grace
But I am here,
Looking in the mirror
Staring at your face
Where once in unison our hearts beat
I couldn’t wait to share
My life stories laid bare
Somehow, now, I feel defeat
The connection that I had
With you has released
The distancing increased
It is neither good nor bad
It is what it was created to be
It’s darker now than ever it was
I cannot feel you in my blood
A monument of a you and I; “we”
Unknown Sacrifice
The earth requires sacrifice
The blood of generations
Spilled to sate the thirst
Women’s children slain
Prayers washing sins away
From the dearly departed
Best dressed pieces
Shards of life protruding
Draining deeply into the mud
Returning to the dust
willing to be sheep for causes
Draped in flags of uniform coffins
Souls unwittingly worth pennies to borrow
Billionaire comfort on widow’s grief and sorrow
Day nine note
The other day when I went to the grocery, I picked up some delicious things. My plan was to cook for myself, but I kept putting it off. This morning, I got ambitious.
I took out the spinach and put it in the colander and poured boiling water over it. I cut up potatoes into tiny little pieces. I chopped up an onion and put it in the pan with what was sure to be a gastronomic pleasure. I popped in some vegan butter, and tried to turn on the stove.
I was pushing buttons like it was a typewriter, and nothing happened. Nothing. I tried turning it off and turning it on again, but to no avail. I tried for a good 15 minutes to figure out how to work the stove, but no.
The stove was smarter than I and I ended up going to my favorite place for breakfast. They make better coffee than I do anyway.
Day four continues…
After over a two hour delay and having arrived at the stop unwittingly four hours in advance, I’m on my way to Caen, Normandie, France.
There is a bathroom on the bus but it is full and can’t be used. The wi-fi works but doesn’t connect to the internet. 🙄
If you asked me if I’ve been upset at the ridiculous amount of delays so far on this trip, I’d have to be honest and tell you no. Each step of the way, I’ve found reasons to be joyful, comfortable in my uncertainty.
Lost? No problem. How can I solve this issue? Google maps has been a lifesaver. Language barrier? No sweat. Pull out Google translate. Uncertain of what to do for activities? Airbnb has excellent suggestions. Not sure what’s nearby to eat? UberEats was surprisingly easy to use in Paris.
Although I have questioned my navigation skills, I’m still arriving exactly when I need to be somewhere. I’m okay. This is an extraordinary experience. I’m just as glad for the bumpy bits as well as the smooth sailing.



Call me foolish, or call me an idiot, but the woman on the left is my new friend Marie France. I saw her ID, no kidding. She and I, along with several other people waited for the same bus to arrive. Each time we’d see a bus, we’d collectively get excited then collectively disappointed.
We talked about what we do for a living and what our passions are, which as you can well guess, death and dying came up. It was a great discussion. Marie bought us all water and refused to accept anything in return. When the bus arrived, we sat in our assigned seats which was sadly not near each other.
However, when we got off the bus in Caen, she asked how I was going to get where I was going. I explained about the tram and the walk from the stop to where I’m staying. She pish-poshed me and told me nonsense. She would drive me home.
Without even thinking about it, I accepted. The picture I took of her is after I told her to give me her beautiful. She laughed out loud and got bashful. She works as a greeter at the hospital in the second picture, but there is rumor they’re going to eliminate the position. She’s not worried though. She said she’ll find something else in the office environment.
Her gray car had suicide doors! She hustled about clearing the front seat for me to ride since my luggage and hers took up the back seat. I practically live in my car too. I reassured her, she was not alone.
At that moment, I thought about human trafficking and freaking A if I didn’t scare myself a bit with that, but it was all okay. She not only made sure I got where I was going and that I was able to get in. The Farside had a cartoon:
I got the keys, no problem. I got the code right, no problem. The door has a handle which looks like a pull, so that is what I kept doing. Marie, on the other hand, pushed the door open while I, you guessed it, FACEPALM.
She made sure I got into the first floor (second floor in America) apartment. We hugged and she left to go to her own well deserved bed.
I’m sorry I forgot to include this in the original post. It was an invaluable time with a very special person I feel fortunate to have met. She was impressive with her speaking of several languages as natural as a native born. Wherever you are, Bless you for being you, Marie France.
Left-hand turn

My “Silent but Deadly” litany chants in my head
“Don’t open your throat, let the demons be fed”
I want to reach out. I want to be heard. But…
Reality isn’t where I want to be disturbed
My brushes lay colorless, lifeless as corpses
My observances from the corner, bodily divorces
I’m running like hell hounds know my name
The bridges start smoldering in fingers of blame
and they all return to me. Their rejection is plain to see
If I’m not them, I’m never good enough as me.
Today vs 355 Days Ago
Today I watched an emergency vehicle roar
followed by a chorus of five more
the hymn they sang was not for me
but I found myself unable to breathe
I started to panic, filled with fear
as if they were suddenly going to stop here
I wear her shirts and her ashes
as if those would conjure her
breathe, ironically, life back to her
to us
to the moment in time where we were
all of we, together, being happily.
It was a feeling of holy
a feeling of communion
as we broke bread together
The laughter we shared
reciting our ancient tales
filled us faster than food
She just at fifty, me at 49
We’d spent a love-time of life
but never enough time
The chaplain at the hospital said,
on the day Bean really died,
“Maybe you were the face of God
she had to see before she could
finally be at peace.”
It was the most comforting words
because I often think of them.
I often think of Bean’s face in that same way,
the face I needed see before she went home




