Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday

Nine to five.

Yay job!!

my cup runneth over with words; they become poetry

i have a photo album
sitting on my dresser
it is filled with love
my Lost Boys and Girls,
smiling at up at the camera
and me, as I walk away.

is this what life is?
giving love and then,
leaving, with one last smile,
a hug, muttered "I love you?"

that's okay, then.
these pictures of my TJ and Danielle,
Maria and Kevin,
all I have left of them,

it is enough to know i loved them and they smiled
back at me, my broken children, born to be left behind
and beautiful.


we humankind
we put up so many shells.
first the shell of our clothes, than our body,
our muscles, our fat,
the red of our blood, coursing through thick veins,
but all this cannot cover our center,
not our heart or our minds
but our spirits, hidden safe inside.
let down the walls.
lay yourself bare.
we do not touch skin to skin,
flesh to flesh,
but truth to truth,
love to love to love to love,
and spirit to spirit.

Is it possible that one's anti-depressants only take affect after 0ne in the morning? Because here I am, after having an abysmal day, utterly overjoyed. Of course, it also happens to be 2 AM. How terrifically helpful.

None the less, today was surprisingly good, for a non-working high school drop out. Oh man, that description of me does so much justice. I love it. Anyway, I made food for dinner guests, which makes me feel productive, and I tried to curl my hair, which was a waste of time, as I have hair that would not, could not curl for a .... pearl? It's just that stubborn, Seuss. A surprisingly good day, and yet it felt abysmal until just now. Huh?

Also, most fabulously, I will soon be babysitting during the day, which will be a relief. Especially since an almost one year old--pretty much my favorite age EVER. Toddlers are so adorable, especially when they are first walking.

And that's me. Bowling with kids from the Center for the Visually Impaired tomorrow here in Atlanta...yeah, I'm freakin' excited. Haven't got my dose of that since I quit school. Man, I need me fix.

I'm leaving Oz.

I've been clicking my heels
Since I saw the golden fields
Fade away out the back of our van,
Frances the cat mewing beside me.

It was hard to let go of
Thunderstorms and tornado warnings,
The smell of my uncle's farm,
My grandma's salt licks,
Waiting for the deer she loved.
Every time I thought of home,
I saw the Taco Bell on the corner.
Dillon's, red cursive bright against the tan building,
the D always looked like a G.

I'm still clicking these heels
And it seems I have finally got a pair
Of ruby red shoes,
and as they click this last time,
the Kansas sun catches their sparkle
and I land safe in the flaky Midwestern snow.

not poetry number 1

Today was my last day of high school, so I'm thinking, hey, why not turn over a new leaf? I think I'm going to start writing in prose now and then. Bad poetry is fabulous and what not--and it is certainly fantastic with a bottle of sparkling grape Mormon wine--but I want to actually get my thoughts out, not just the children of my thoughts or the parents or the second cousins or you really honestly get the point.

So, today, October Seventh, Two Thousand Seven, new leaf, new way. Doens't mean I'll stop the poetry, it is still my oh so favoritist thing, but I'm going to try this new thing, this prose thing, this journal thing.

It's like a blog. Geesh.