OSI: Empty

Grief

It's a little like if you gave a baby a half full bottle...
not a new baby
but one that's been around a few months.
The milk is sweet and warm
and then it runs out too soon
and nobody can really explain to the baby
about trips to the store and running low on formula.
It looks up with those big baby eyes
asking why.
Why did it end too soon?
Except it's only milk,
and the baby
will eventually know.

More OSI here

Remembering Josh

In the early morning hours Saturday, Josh was driving home and his car hit the highway median. He over-corrected and flipped his car and died.

Josh was my step-brother. It isn't always the case when you father marries somebody and you are already adults, that you form a relationship with your step-siblings. Then again, it isn't always the case that your Dad marries the nicest, most down-to-earth woman on the planet and it isn't always the case that one of your step siblings is somebody like Josh.

Josh is not somebody I would have known under other circumstances. He was a large man with tattoos all down his arms and a penchant for large metallic face jewelry. Had it not been for our family connection I never would have had the oportunity to get to know him.

It's hard not to love Josh's mom. Both her and my dad are personifications of the word generosity, and so when her son was down on his luck and moved in with my dad and his then girlfriend for a while, I wasn't all that surprised. However, I remember being distinctly irritated with him when he came in really late one night while I was visiting and woke me up. I was sleeping on the couch and he was carrying a six pack and the look on my face must have conveyed my irritation because he offered me a beer... and we stayed up till two or three in the morning talking about parenting...

You see, Josh wasn't just a musician whose taste in music was a lot different than mine and he wasn't just a man with tattoos and jewelry. Josh was a daddy who's world revolved around his three little boys. He was a man with one of the most wonderful senses of humor I've ever come across. He was a dog lover who was willing to brave my idiot dachshund's fierce demeanor and had the uncanny ability to surprise me with a sensitivity you don't often see in anybody.

I wish I'd known him better. I wish I'd spent more time with him. I can tell you for certain that the world is a better place for Josh having been in it and that it's a darker place without him. Nothing I can say can convey my family's sense of loss. Nothing I can say will make things any better for his mom or his kids or his sister or my dad, and damn it, I'm going to miss his goofy smile so much. If you're the prayerful type, please send some prayers out for his little boys and his mama.

OSI: Beginning

Every story has its once upon a time.
Every Adam gets an Eve.
Retelling the beginning is no crime.

The hope of newness is so fine,
even seen from endings grieve.
Every story has its once upon a time.

Though the narrative has run its ragged line
and joy has long since taken leave,
retelling the beginning is no crime.

I can hear the bells of mourning chime
and feel the whole begin to cleave
but every story has its once upon a time.

Once the dawn was yours and mine
and sunlight filtered to us through the green of leaves.
Retelling the beginning is no crime.

Dusk falls now like a rain of bitter brine
and dead leaves are no sunlight sieve
but every story has its once upon a time
and retelling our beginning is no crime.

Note: I wanted to try a formal form again and it has been a while since I wrote a villanelle. I was thinking about how we, as women, often remember that first date long after the men have forgotten it and how sometimes it seems like we have to conjure it back up in conversation, to remind our partners how we got here. More OSI Here.

Back To School Special Idiocy

Cleaning house today... trying to get ready for yet another visit from a realtor. I hate cleaning house and so generally my home looks like it's managed by deranged toddlers high on ephedrine. One thing that makes house cleaning somewhat bearable is music and so I've been listening to commercial radio. Seriously, don't try that at home. Commercial radio is scary.

Anyway, one of the commercials is for a back to school special on cable television. Honestly, back to school is the time to encourage your kids to sit in front of the T.V.?

OSI: Connoisseur

The puppy beats his heart
against his cardboard prison
but the old dog knows a plethora of pains.
The old dog circles three times
and settles in to wait,
savoring the overtones of heartache;
a connoisseur of loneliness and loss.

More One Single Impression: Here

Home

One Single Impression: Cocoon

The Caterpillar

He was tired of being fat
and weary of an all salad diet
and he didn't have any friends,
so he shut himself away
and when he woke,
everything was different.

More one singe impression HERE