Picador

I am wondering if I can hang on to this lance.
I made this myself from finest woods, even I
am not ashamed to admit I am proud of my effort.
It is not the job I wanted, only my love of the horse
lead me here, I had not known, I had not trained
for this endeavor. But the matador has my strings
if I can be said to have any- only a metaphor-
I assure you. I am resigned to knowing this is
my last fight to prove my courage, for I have heard
rumors they have outlawed this bloody, beautiful
sport. And, yes, I know the matador is the hero, the
one they all come to see, he is indeed stunning, yet
I must face the bull first and take the power of his
neck from him; I don't want the horse to get hurt,
never knowing if the bull will charge...Picador.

In the Cold

Last evening, as I trundled through the drive through at my electric company (Sawnee EMC...ooh, I'm a member!), I commented to Reid, "I love paying the Sawnee EMC bill."

He looked at me like I had two heads....No, not really. He is 15, so he didn't care much. But he did say, "Why?"  I said it was because every month I pay the power bill and there is a tiny sense of comfort that our lights and heat will stay on another month. One thing I don't have to think about.

I don't really think you can tempt fate, but...life does play its little jokes on one, doesn't it? Last night the furnace went out. Actually its a heat pump, but whatever. I have some space heaters, but it was freezing last night, so the house can get cold very quickly, and it isn't well insulated or anything. So, here I am waiting for the repairman to come, who hopefully can fix the problem. Drinking hot tea...sitting next to a heater...oh well.

You know I'm always always looking for the message. This presents a lot of possibilities for a message, but for now I'm keeping them on ice, till I see if there is a thaw after all.

Sinful

ripping pages from a hardback book, he said that is sinful
he couldn't look-just like I couldn't hear any more of her garbage
about her years of struggle and life after life of being murdered
enough is enough, it was a bad book to start with
very few books have I ever abandoned, I can name two
learn to give up faster and get on to what is good
not easier, not more "in the world, in the ego" gibberish like
these bad recipes I will never make, except for two
so I tore them out, ragged from the spine
not a crime because I own it and
I'm not the first, don't you see no one needs a book full
of poor possibilities and worse,
I will make maple walnut fudge and nothing else, the rest of this
worthless tome to the goodwill to the fire to someone
just not me.

Going Public

suddenly it becomes a service
going public with the knowledge
accepting
that everything decays,
we will eventually dismember,
that someone will walk over us
and wonder.

reading names on squares in the grass,
the wind passes nothing on its lips,
over the tongue and under the teeth,
it's only from the silence we learn
that bones break and flesh tears.
Pain walks on ten legs
with twenty hands,
subjecting itself to neither love nor hate.

leaving its mark on the carpet
which springs back forgetfully.

best to know
better to serve love
we only have each other
for a while.

Sylace

No Matter the Outcome

there is a moment
when I am gone,
the bones of my hands flying faster
than the surety of the outcome,
that you are relieved
by my absence,
the devastation of my presence
a bubble of blissful air
that has popped,
when you, for a second,
breathe deeply in the vacuum-
before crushing compression
of your heart muscle,
starved of the oxygen
you hate to want
and resent to need,
compels you to call silently
please come back, and
bring your hands,
no matter the outcome,
no matter,
I must have the key...

All Souls' Day

It is an art form
continuing to live with your whole heart.
It can be expensive...costs mount
skeletons dangle in the closet
in clothing you have never seen before.
From under the creaking floorboards,
past pyramids of burning black-pitched hay,
legacies drag and slither
into legend.

November comes too soon,
the second chance for souls, all of them,
none neglected
in the mad dash to flee this place,
following like ants on the trail of the saints
who left a moment before,
a naked moment,
brief, sleepy, and no more than that.

Haunting hearth tales
words and whispers in licorice-spiked fogs of breath
told to little girls
who grasp the green innards of the stripped twig
who watch the moon,
passing up opportunities for more in favor of better
and wait for the eye to close,
when they shall fly,
whole-heartedly.


TSD

Trash and Such

It's been a while since I let you in on my freaky little world. No full moon stories lately, no ravens...I don't eat McDonald's much anymore, so that's out as a topic.

Stupid broken foot caused far more trouble than I would ever have imagined. And, I wish more than anything I could see Eva and James. My life is far the worse for not being near them...

So, I have this weird thing about trash. I try to create as little trash as possible. Americans are shocking trash whores. I recycle all cans, bottles, and paper boxes from food. I have to take them to the dump and recycling myself where I live, or I would pay too much for a  pickup service I get free with my taxes. Reid and I produce one bag of trash a week...and not even a big one. That being said, I think I have a strange habit that would make you snicker at how strange and slightly obsessive some people are. Allow me to illustrate...

 This is a Chick Fil A restaurant. All Chick Fil As are closed on Sunday, if you aren't aware of that fact. So here I am driving through the parking lot of a closed Chick Fil A on a Sunday, to deposit Chick Fil A trash from approximately two days before in the Chick Fil A trash bin.

Really weird, huh? I have these thoughts from places I have worked, like Target, Borders, Macy's, etc. I am aware that people in general abuse retailers and try to throw away all sorts of stuff in the dumpsters.

I've decided it is okay to throw random car trash away in the trash cans at gas stations and convenience stores. Fast food, stuff from your trunk, paperwork, mail....all ok because that's why they put those trash cans between each gas pump. Getting gas doesn't generate trash, but they are always conveniently present, so I assume they view it as a cost of business to dispose of RCT. Random Car Trash.

But someplace like a Wendy's, for example, isn't really viewing it as a cost of business for you to clean out your car in the parking lot. Twenty-nine phone books and an old litter box don't really belong in the Wendy's trash. What Wendy's views as a cost of business is disposing of their own trash.

The resulting behavior from this thought process of mine is that if I have refuse from a particular take-out place, or store, and I think I might be passing by there soon...I will take the trash back to the establishment from whence it came. Thus my Sunday afternoon delivery of Chick Fil A trash.

If you ever find yourself asking what sorts of weird things people do that you would never guess....think of me!     Hugs, Sylace