Eternity

I've always believed
in heaven
but not like they say
in church.
My heaven has no
gates
no heavenly choir
and no white robes.

My heaven is a deep
lush forest
With trees and grass
and sunshine
That goes on forever.
Birds sing, animals
call, and every once
in awhile
It rains.

And in that heaven
My loved ones are
all there, their bodies
and faces as strong
and beautiful
as they were in the
prime of their lives.

There are no wrinkles
No weakened eyes
In fact, no weaknesses
at all.

My favorite thought of
heaven
is arriving in this grove
of eternal trees and seeing
that tall man with blue-black
hair and blue eyes and the most
reassuring smile
on his face.

And in this man's arms
is Scooter,
sleek and Persian
And plump as he was in
life.
Green eyes radiant
and his whole body shaking
with his happy
Purrs.

A Strike of Insomnia

It's late.
Too late, in fact, for me to
Even be here.

But I can't sleep.

I've listened countless times
To the toilet flushing just a
Few feet of plaster from my
head.

I can hear the dog impatiently
Sniffering
Its little collar bell chiming
Ceaselessly
As it paces the hall outside
My door.

Still can't sleep.
Won't sleep.
Can't sleep.

Manifesto

I wish I was a tree!

I wish I could spend
my days standing absolutely
still
and silent
Among all my thoughtful
Tree friends.

I want to be beautiful
in the spring
and summer, blossoming as
a human girl never
could.

Oh, to spend hundreds
of years just
standing tall
proud and wise and green
And giving
shelter
to all the squirrels and birds
and kittens.

Silent Standing Man

Tall figure
Dapper in a violet suit
Kiss-kiss lips set in a serious
expression

Country-boy hands, callused
Now diamond-adorned and
hanging limp at your sides
Blue eyes unblinking
All-seeing

December

Christmas, sure
And hopefully snow
Time to anticipate
And laugh.

It's cold outside
The ground is frozen
But we've a fire in the hearth
To keep us warm.

I love the winter
Like most love the summer
I love the clean-slateness
of it all.

Obviously

Okay, so it might be kinda
obvious
And I might stare just a little too
much
I might just be laughing a little too
hard
At your jokes.

Who am I kidding?
You've gotta know.
I mean, you've never been a
genius
(thank god)
but you're not totally
brain-dead
either.

Limits

My name is
and I'm

Clump, clump, clump

I had an old wrecked vehicle
Kaleb said he'd help me fix up some time

Sweating in my seat, every inch of me shaking

I knew how to cover my tracks (ha ha)

Again and again, more and more the words starting to mean something

You know what I wish? This second? I wish I was high!

And this last time, all of us already crying too hard to speak

I'll stick with it, man. One more week......for you.

And when it's finally over, really over, it doesn't feel like the end

Kaleb is dead. Overdose.

The words I've spoken so many times aren't just something I say
anymore. How long will it take to finally be over? For real?

We never got around to it. And now we never will.