Free & Clear ...

You can always run away.

Just one more time—

                                         Like when your family moved,

                                              Miles beyond your reputation.

                      You worked out every day,

                      Until “Remember me?” made her eyes go wide.

                            “I didn’t recognize—you look…different.”

You swallowed spotted fungi & paper tabs,

Then crawled to the bathroom, sucking air as loud as an ocean cave,

Looked over the sink and introduced yourself:

          “That’s an alien; that’s an animal. I don’t think we’ve ever met.

            I. Am. Thisss.         {breathe} Are you too?

                                               Heh—right on.”

           You left a relationship,

                     heart flaking scabs, identity half-custody, soul geriatric,

                               And so dazedly climbed somewhere stinging hot/deadly high,

                               here traded smiles with another sweat-salted pair of cheeks and

                     remembered “Wait, I’m still 23.”

                               You drank numb your anxieties,

                               Until every moment not drunk was a buzzing tide-foam

                                         of “OhshitOhShitOhSHIIIT…”

                                         incoming.

                                                   You ate only vegetables and meditated,

                                                              Until every moment was Simple, still—

                                but that was unfamiliar, weirdly peaceful, lacking monsters, SO!

                 You went downtown and got in a fist-fight,

                  started talking politics and debating religion,

                          Until everything was a war of Right and Wrong.

You shaved, grew a beard, shaved again, ate bacon-wrapped IPAs,

ran off that bouncing sub-naval skin purse,

           Until you didn’t care what anyone thought,

           as long as you liked you—

                     and you weren’t 23 | or even 32 |anymore.

You can always run away,

Just one more time—

But what if?

What if you were free & clear?

Can you even imagine

Being fully you?

In every direction:

                                There is no kiss long enough,

                                       No sunset orange bold enough,

                                No loud laugh limb-jiggling violently enough

to convey

Everything in you, at any moment, conscious or auto-driven,

with and through the

once-you/will-you…

So pick a day.

Someone will call you crazy.

Someone will put you in jail.

Someone will laugh “that’s refreshing”

And if no one posts your bail…

           At least you were real.

You’ll sit on the cold floor.

Slow down all your dream wheels to nothing.

And feel.

—just one more time.

Sonny...

Sonny Liston. American boxing titan. He stood up for himself, took care of those around him. The public didn't like his brutish power or his desperate criminal past. So they made it his future, his fate, and his death. In private, with trusted friends or children or his wife, he was warm and gentle, smart and humble. May 1932 (Sand Slough, Arkansas) - December 1970 (Las Vegas, Nevada).

I don't look at you until I have to,

                                                             and then I use both hands.

On predators with gloves, or microphones.

                                                                          I wear scars on my back

                                                                        From when father thrashed

                                                                                   So I'd pull his plow.

Look at me now.

                                                           I rode tracks to another city

                                                                 at 13, on my own.

                                                 Where kids laugh at me,

                                                       quiet and solid—

dwarfing books.

                  Thugs and thieves smile at me.

                                  They like

                     my looks.

                                                                For God, I am rooted in the ground.

                                                      Jab a left,                                    throw a right:

                                               Press the air,                                    make them sway.

                                          Then hard stares,                       tight jaws

                                           all go soft.

                                            If I just lean into them

                                           in this quiet, honest way.

                                                                                              You don't trust me,

                                                               fixed on owning my path to survive.

                                                                                   Don't like me either,

  sliding home with                                          both hands on the prize.

But I am your champion:

                        I rejoice at                         unbroken children.

                                  I take                  the policeman's gun.

                                    Her                  gentle man.

                                Your              outcast son.

A Moment of Silence to Breathe ...

after the murders of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery and so many more, and the uprisings sweeping across the country ~ 2020 June 2 (also pictured: Emmett Till, Tamir Rice, Alex Pretti, Renee Good, Geraldo Lunas Campos)

It is a deeply human, and valid, response:

To feel pain, in our bodies, for others' pain;

To feel fear, at witnessing the mouth → fist disconnect

Of those whom we most desire to trust

(our neighbors, peace officers, national leaders);

And to feel anger for others' experiences of unnecessary loss.

It is understandable that people are rising up,

Using the language of riots where simple and direct words

Have proven time and again to be too-little, too-late

In that dire moment (“I can't breathe,” “I'm unarmed,”

“I am not who you imagined”):

So bodies and voices are amassing before the next ___ ,

Desperate to protect

Citizens we do not know yet

From becoming more unwilling martyrs:

Who mark on the road

How unsafely far we'll need to go

From where we are to where our cities look

Truly by and for us: our faces in the halls of power;

Our alarm calls answered before they fall silent

On our streets, in our homes.

Let us take a moment of silence

Together, in the midst of this

Terrifying turbulence—

And breathe.

Touch-hungry ... (Holden 2022)

We decide to be alone

For now, and we know why:

Most at peace when life is simply

Give, give, give and die.

We shrug off incoming praise,

with its trail of expectations.

We feel uncomfortable

In a celebration's afterglow—

We're first out alone when a roof-fall

Buries the church door, though.

Pink fingers melting a shovel handle's ice

Scoop and lift, scoop and lift.

People say “thank you,” walking out

And that is enough.

They welcome us in,

And that is a gift.

We long for their touch,

Everybody we love.

That's the wet in our eyes,

Shovel-head diving in

With “can I help?” “are you okay?”

A sun-cracked smile and nod.

Someone might touch us someday,

But we leave that work to God.

True story, this morning ...

                                                                    (2022 November 22)

I asked her if she was okay.

         She told me I didn’t care.

I opened my arms; 

would she like a hug.

     She threw a ball of dirty tissues 

           into my chest.

                          I asked if I could throw them away.

                                               She said go ahead, 

               then screamed in my ear as I passed.

I screamed back in her ear 

“don’t scream in my ear!”

There’s the real You, 

                      she said.

You said you'd ... (song)

You said you’ll water my garden.          But you do-on’t…

And yet you wanted the same.

You want to stand where my heart is.   But you won’t—let it roam—where it's home—

Your nerves crack—when I roll—        On my back—in the grass…

So you call back my name.

And if you wanted so bad,                     In a life that’s so hard—

You want to love your own body,         And the weeds in your yard.

Well, I- can’t- give that to you.

          [Drums: Pf, ch-Pf, ch. Pf…chhh]

You said you’d grow open-hearted.      But you’re closed…

I’ve pulled that door everyday.

You said "let’s go to the party…"

So I hugged—all my friends—you said "no!—not with them—

She’s a bitch—he hates me—oh I’m sure…"

And so you pulled me away.

But I am going back in,                         You hear them playing my song?

I feel thunder in my feet, and                 You can please come along

But baby: my- heart- has to move.

          [Break]

Im in love! with the look in your eyes!

When you pick—up a wrench—and you twist—'til the engine hummmms. 

        Braap, braap, braap, brrrap…

I’m in hate, I’m in sad with myself,

When I let someone else—even you—choke and stall me frommm…

I `know you `don’t mean `to, but …

          [Back]

You said “I know I can get there.          Can you wa-ait?”

so/I set down my attaché.

You said “Can you rub my neck, dear?”

So I did—both hands in—'til my thumbs—needle-pinned—

Then I switched—to my fists—how are you…

Still so tight every day?

We’ve been under this sheet                 Hiding out from a storm—

But there’s no moisture in the breeze, 

And the light feels warm.

Baby, I think- the- storm's in you.

          [No Drums…]

I so believe in your strength, dear.         And your beau-ty.

Even when you’re afraid.

I have this singular duty,                        To the earth—and the trees—who I feed—

With the breeze—from my face—to keep looo—ving and breeea—

thing 'til my flesh falls away.

So I’m letting go your promises,            And filling my lungs—

I forgive you and I carry                         Every moment of us.

You said “Don’t- lie-" (Well) that’s the truth.

          [Drum break: Pf, ch-Pf, ch. Pf, ch-Pf, ch.]

          [Coda]

You said you’d water my garden.          But you do-on’t…

And still you wanted the same.

And if you wanted so bad,                      In a life that’s so hard—

You want to love your own body,          And the weeds in your yard.

Well, I- can’t- give that to you.