thomas sunday

I, too, wish to see you for myself. 
Your smiling face. Your hands. Your side. 
I want what all others want. 
I wish I was there to receive the peace, 
and to receive the peace. 
You appear in the midst of us. 
The doors remain closed. 
I keep writing until they are not.

21 days

i won’t tell you 
it takes 21 days 
to form a new habit. 
it’s simply not true. 
it takes 21 days 
before the phantom 
pain subsides. 

i will tell you instead 
it takes 21 days 
to break a habit, 
to pin it to the wall 
until it stops twitching. 
sometimes 
it’s a slow death. 
sometimes 
it takes much longer. 
one never can tell. 

it might take 21 days 
for you to recognize 
your new face. 
it might take you a lifetime.

goals

how to achieve an impossible goal: 
first, plan in two week installments. 
the timelines are bound to change – 
it shouldn’t surprise you. 

so make a list. be specific. 
who cares about becoming rich? 
find ways to change the world  
one word at a time. settle in. 
measure your worth. 
let them feel the weight of you. 
i want to feel the weight of you. 
there will always be gaps. 
let your lack fuel your desire. 
fill the emptiness with intention. 
there is something needs doing 
and who will take up the charge? 
there is only this moment 
and the next moment and the next. 
there is only yes and the work. 

prepare the soil. 
plant the seeds. 
gather your tools. 
pull the weeds. 
hope for rain. 

now imagine it’s completed. 
don’t give up hope. 
write it down 
like it’s poetry. 
a celebration. 
repeat.  
repeat.

the hours

today the hours are thick, my tongue foggy.

words flow like molasses, or tar, stuck on my teeth.

i would chase after them but they have nowhere to go;

they won’t get far in this lazied moment

without direction, a misallocation of effort.

i hoped they would run wildly skeltered without a leash

but they sniff the air, turn in circles, and drop to the floor.

i thought if i took a walk it would help clear my mind

but i walked too far; it took too long –

now i’m too tired to think of playing fetch,

grooming your coat, speaking discipline or encouragement.

i don’t even care if you hop on the couch unannounced,

though i suppose that would be fine, and we’d fall asleep and dream.

anamnesis

it’s been such a long day 
this week     everything changes 
so quickly we forget 
how it feels to smile at strangers 
say hello in elevators     ask 
how is your day?     and 
is this too small?     it isn’t 
enough walking outside 
we find the loneliest places 
to wander as families     as couples 
or whatever human unit fits 
still the turned faces     all eyes 
suspicious or perhaps fearful 
faces now     rarely full 
of hope     we hear little 
conversations circle around fear 
this little thing eats at the edges  
of every good thing     a shared meal 
the laughter of friends 
the excitement of your lover 
a song that that makes you want to dance 
even if you’re not     a good dancer 
lose yourself     in this body 
given to you     and all of us 
in blessed remembrance