It is easier to hear No
Than nothing at all
An answer into which
Teeth can sink down
Clenching tight in
Extended duration
Held safely in place
So as not to do
Long term damage
Until disappointment
Can be chewed
Savagely into
Tiny enough bits
That can be
Swallowed gone
Until forgotten
That unpalatable
Response is placed
Where it belongs
And flushed away
But not knowing
Wondering until
Silent rejection
Now assumed
Becomes this
Lonely black hole of
Empty space
Without justification
A nothing to
Contemplate with
No beginning
And no end
Nothing to glance at
After ridding yourself
You can turn
And simply
Walk away
Category Archives: Poetry
Spring
The road that takes me from the highway to my home
It’s a roller coaster road where you see the top
Of the next hill from the one you’re currently on
Right before you drop down you see the apple tree farm
The sign is blue that alerts you it’s more than
A house with more than just a family living there
Most days the journey is filled with thoughts and problems
Lists and schedules passing through my brain
The nagging reminders of the necessary that are
Hard to escape when heading away from work to home
Today, the first fully lovely day of this spring with
The countryside aglow in green, in newness and
Possibilities that make one so happy to be of this earth
In the valley of the road there is a gaggle of gangly
Legged laughing girls their smiles flashing silver
The sun reflecting their giggles, they pull their hands down
Signaling for honks from compacts and SUVs
All of us with horns on steering wheels, effort
Not required, no pulling necessary, just a few light taps
On my wheel and those girls, the five of them
Successful making memories together in this
Common desire to feel good, the ease of my gift
Little honks from my little red car, and all of us; we’re smiling
The Cardinals
Two of them, bright red, clicking incessantly
Singing like guys on a corner as beauty passes
In a skirt and high heels, ignoring the notice
This female flys from her branch to the ground
Playing hard to get or maybe just bored with
The game, the silliness of deciding between what?
One’s regal red adornment or the other’s loud song
Choices, she must be thinking, it’s all about the choices
Does she really have a choice, and if she does, is she
Aware it is her choice? Or do the brilliant red feathers
The lovely whistled song make her forget she should
Stay an equal partner? It isn’t easy laying the eggs and
Sitting in a nest while he goes to get food, he may
Find another who suits him better while she waits in
That nest, on those eggs, and it just seemed like it would
Be fun back when she was being chased, pressured
To decide between freedom and trusting one of them
I Learned it from a Box of Books
I fell into a sea of brothers, often swimming
For dear life, secretly wishing for sisters, while
My friends with families overflowing in the feminine
Sharing clothes, make-up, bedroom discussions
Extolling the necessity of good hygiene, the hows
Mixed intimately with the whys leading to success
With boys, whose secrets I knew but didn’t understand
Girls counseled in giggles by their own safely through
Puberty’s passage while me with a borrowed set of books
My mother placed solemnly on the kitchen table for me
To read with their anatomically correct animations
Curiously provided me with the facts minus the fun
No depth for understanding intricacies and the power
In the possibility of love or preparation when advantages
Were given and taken and the shocking discovery made
That boys don’t love you after if they didn’t love you before
And not a book written gives comfort then; I have looked
Just a Dream
Begging for the presence to understand, listen to
This dream condensed into a ten minute version
Of the technicolor extravaganza I hurried back to
After visiting the bathroom, like some kind of
Commercial break where the suspended action
Resumed without pause, no missing plot, the sense
Confused by people playing roles that did not
Suit them in my real awake life where still you do
Not hear me, this story created in thoughts playing
Out in the head that lies every night looking for
Peace on the pillow marsh mellowed in a cushion
Of safety as the mind conjures a dangerous truth
Breakfast with Buse 