Monday, January 11, 2016

Love and Dreams

I still remember how you used to look at me. Trying to look at my eyes, frustration, distraction, desire, struggling to care about my words. In the dream early this morning it was the same. Even as I woke up, the need to explain the story I was telling you, the need for you to understand, to sympathize, to be indignant for me, to laugh with me and make me feel better about the jerk who'd tried to use me to hurt my friend, all of those things felt real enough that I wanted to finish telling you the story even after I was fully awake. But as the dream faded and I thought about how real it seemed, I remembered why you couldn't listen, why you missed so much. In the dream I had only a pink tank top on, the one I have now that is too big that I sleep in sometimes, but it didn't matter. You always saw me and said I was so little, you saw my body, you saw under my clothes, you saw what you wanted to do 10 minutes from then. You had trouble being present, hearing my words, seeing the person who loved you, focusing long enough to get to know me all the way through. I mostly wanted a friend back then, I wanted you to be someone you weren't capable of being for me. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that I was so angry at you for so long after either. I probably could have made it easier on us, but I didn't know how at the time. I didn't see the person who loved me either. But love is not necessarily what you need it to be, since it comes from a person who is not necessarily what you need for your soul to feel at home. I hope you understand that now like I do. You were the only one there for me during the worst week of my life, and I can never transmit to you the extent of my gratitude, and how much I love you for that gesture, no matter the ulterior motive. A song on my way home tonight sang to me about getting over someone, but I will never get over anyone I've loved. Nor would I want to. Because for me love is forever, even if it changes form, because I use it as a verb, and I still love you. If I give away a piece of my heart, there isn't a loan or lease, it is yours. Crush it like you did, give it away like you did, forget it like I thought you did, it is still yours. The giving made my heart stronger somehow, letting more light out and in through the gaps.



Tuesday, September 8, 2015

grampa's voluntary trip to anatomy lab (in memoriam)

remembering anatomy lab
where we curious butchers would go,
to plumb the depths of someone

searching for every muscle to name
taking off skin
sawing through bones

braving the formaldehyde
the cold
the gruesome reality of death

looking for diagnoses
finding heart attacks, implants, strokes, tattoos, cancers—
it really was fascinating-

… there was a strange excitement
that went along with each discovery
… we’d think about the patient

not for long about how they died,
instead we’d imagine a life,
usually a positive one

and we treated our patients with respect,
kindness, compassion,
though they wouldn't know

… but I wonder when my grandfather’s body
lay in their med school lab
… if they found his sadness…

his loneliness as the final cause of death…
the grief, the shame, the guilt,
that drove the last few years of his life

the frustration…
but also the kindness and the love
and the desire to understand

his ready laugh that was harder to evoke last year
his enchantment with children
his repetitive stories i loved

'I may not always be right
but I'm never wrong'
and how often he walked to get us donuts on Sundays... 

underneath the anxiety
that likely damaged his arteries
there was a sincere desire

he wanted his grandchildren
to be well and happy

alongside the resignation and despair
because he did not know how…

I wonder where we find that.
when medical students learn that.
I certainly didn't learn it in lab.

does someone you love have to die
for you to understand death- 
losing all my immediate family certainly didn't teach me-

does it require something more?

how do you teach an understanding of life inclusive of death?
making us grateful and present

for the lives we have while we have them

...he loved us so much
...I wish everyone could have known my amazing grandfather
...and be touched by his gregarious and optimistic love for everyone he met



Monday, September 7, 2015

estrogen day

I’m more than half in love 
with my imaginary portrait of you-
although we haven’t met-
all this time I keep noticing you

time and again convincing myself it is silly to wonder...
that you couldn't be what you seem...
that you work too hard...
and then my attention is caught again

because you seem to be looking for me
in words and books and poems
but when I wave you keep walking
and... that day I saw you see me?

I panicked a little,
lowered my eyes,
laughed with my friend…
of course you passed by

--I wondered what story about me your mind created
--since my friend was much older and male
--or if you even saw me at all
--but of course not, I didn't see 'you' either
--I haven't yet ever... has anyone?

I wonder if my eternal hopefulness
about a fairy tale (not necessarily you)
means I am delusional?
or bravely undaunted by previous failure!
(likely somewhere in between)

reminding myself this is entirely fantasy
while still hearing once upon a dream in my head…
{it is conveniently in my vocal range
so it seems silly not to sing it loudly and often}

ridiculous egotistical notions make me laugh daily:
I am different than other women,
and since I am so special, 
my daddy issues don't get in the way of reality...


[when I am different, but the same
I am special, as is everyone here
I am more mindful than last year
but still barely aware
I am learning to love
wanting to more than anything else
but encumbered by addiction to mind,
therefore terrible at it]


and so, in this realm of illusion,
I carry a little extra joy,
because you are in the world

and I am always wrong
about how my life will go
so I practice,
and keep waving

keeping my eyes open

for someone who dances with his mother
without codependence-
someone who is passionate
and works hard to help heal the world-
and for someone who might,

be interested, also, in knowing me


Sunday, May 17, 2015

chaos

my mood makes me analyze the
platitudes written on my can of beer, like
‘everything goes wrong until you get it right’

it makes no sense when shaken apart
we didn’t either according to you
so I avoid that and move around the can and read

‘murphy was an optimist’
if you mean murphy’s law is actually
about the second law of thermodynamics

about entropy and cooling disorder…
except that if there is an impossible chance at order
a natural system will sometimes

sometimes, suddenly, passionately
overcome unbelievable odds
and self-organize spontaneously

into honeycombs of gorgeous strength
and beauty
and sustainability

‘it’s all in your head’
yes.
apparently.


Friday, March 20, 2015

equinox eclipse

an equinox devoid of equanimity
an eclipse resets the ego
‘have you tried turning it off then on again’
yes, thank you…
perhaps this time…

wishing for a moment I could be
an eternal optimist like a pet dog
or a penis
instead I doze, steeped in the fickleness of a feline
with the attention span of an frustrated squirrel

awaiting a third stanza
to arise to save this from mediocrity
and irrelevancy
I search in the darkness for something

that will turn me back on