Tumultuous, bubbling about like teen angst

an angry sea of emotion bumping about my insides

like a pinball bouncing against the glass

that is my skin

what you see is an attempt to fill the sails once more

an attempt to point the bow towards shore

when shore is something unfathomable

something clouded by emotions heavier than fog

How can It possibly be out there

when I cannot see or touch it

how can I just believe it is so?



Such Great Friends

If I could write a letter to my long lost childhood friend…it would go like this. (Have you written yours yet?)

Dear Kay Kay,


   It’s me, Lizzy.   Do you remember me still? The other day my daughter and her friends did a fashion show and dare I say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, it wasn’t nearly as wacky with perfect comic pairing of music but pretty close. Wonder what other things that we did together that she will do?
Remember, how we’d scheme up little ways to terrorize that boy who visited only in summer and was a hellion that made us feel like Butte Montana was wall to wall rabble rousers wreaking havoc on our world of suburban utopia? We would spy and write little trails of messages for them to discover? On our most wicked days, we’d get all giggly standing on your deck soaking one of your mom’s tampons in red ink and hucking it over the fence for a slam-dunk right into their pool;  smitten with ourselves.  I think back now this had to be my idea; you were innately more kind than I.  
Our summers were spent staying up late practicing our live version of Reagan getting shot reenacting “Buckwheat is Dead!” And acting out Mr Robinson’s neighborhood. Eddie Murphy, George Michael and Danny Zuko were our heros. Childhood was spent listening to records, pressing our noses to the glass of the juke box and feeling every song as the metal hand set into motion the soundtrack of our youth. Most sleep overs were filled with hours of just us playing pinball, but on occasion there would be sleeping bags of girls lining your basement and I used to stay up all night just so my hair wouldn’t be smashed to one side of my head, I never slept.  That is soo messed up! 

After school was the usual, you preparing me snacks as if I were the queen and then we’d fold paper into delightful little working mechanisms to read our fortunes with. Yours were always creased nicely and ornately folded, mine a blob, with perfect spelling……we’d fill it in with our smelly purple pens; names, cars, professions, numbers of kids we’d have, predicting what our future life would be filled with; whom we’d marry?Secretly we must have known which were the bad apples that turned out to be the Cocaine pushers and those who were indeed gay, no surprise to anyone when they came out. Perhaps just that one….. who came out at our twenty year reunion as a girl instead of a boy.  BTW the class president guy-I see him at the soccer fields all the time, and he speaks to me!
  If I did bump into you today, you might just notice, I am not so consumed with myself as I was as a kid. I don’t drive a garbage truck after all and funny thing…..I got a call from THAT boys sister outta nowhere years back….I did go to his wedding -you know the one-we shared a huuuuuge crush on.  He married some young ethnic girl, nothing like us. I am sure he still pines for us!  He never did become the the button down kid with perfectly trimmed nails.  I do regret having that extra beer at his wedding,  and grabbing the mic for a dedication; something I don’t do anymore.  I don’t do things that are wild or risky or even call attention to myself anymore, in fact it’s as if I have taken on a new identity. I don’t even drink-you might find me almost mellow these days?  Would you have predicted that?

Why the letter? It seems so apparent to me now as meaningless as the childhood years appear at the time, I swear they have molded me into something I feel proud of and well, I am glad I am me! The blossoming character building of  grade school friendship feels incredibly eternal-then poof, it’s gone!  
Daily, I watch it under my own nose, mocking my own child as he does exactly the same nerdy things I did at 14!   I watch my boy, fearful to knock on a friends’ doors but rather inclined to just wait for a friend to knock at his-Just as I did.   I see him smile and turn away so I can’t see the glow of his intense happiness….just like me..  I hear him do the forced laugh, or wear the same thing all week because he is immune to caring what people think of his habitual comfort needs.  I see with my own teenager, myself and my childhood all over again.
I’m proud that he is slow to need to impress, and am pleased he too prides himself that his friends are his most prized possession, above all else. It warms me to see his loyalty, loyalty I used to have. I  thought I would savor my mates like a fine cheese, forever but I grew too busy in life to keep up and now I am old and don’t eat dairy. Oh yes the letter, I no longer do anything fear based, just things that make me smile. I won’t forgo an attempt for friendship for fear of disappointing them with my imperfect friendship.

 There is after all, no such thing…..friends inhabit the heart forever and change you.  Perfect plays no part in friendships.
  Today friend, I would NEVER think to correct your spelling mistakes on the notes you passed; I would just simply be giddy to share time spent thinking about things that eventually will not matter.  I would show you long, long ago, I threw perfectionism by the wayside, and kissed it goodbye forever.
As far as your husband goes, I don’t regret being misunderstood, I just regret that you were a bridesmaid in my wedding ….don’t tell me that when Bridesmaids the movie came out-you didn’t watch and think of me?  My only regret is that I made you my bridesmaid. Friendship is doomed- when you make a friend a bridesmaid.  Despite your absence in my life, thank you for all the friendship I carry in my heart today, because you and I were such great friends.

Imagine Away the Hole


For all of my sober sisters……

Originally posted on wordfulwhimsy:

How I arrived at the Kennel is a mystery.

 Perhaps like a lush arrives at the bottle’s end

I was looking for something.

Biscuit, I would name her, for her toasty almost white fur.

One precocious lab stared me down hard,

Watching me with longing, chocolatey warm eyes

She didn’t know my childhood pooch died in my arms.

I preferred the fictitious lives,

whose pages comforted me always, lining my dusty shelves,

Encounters, if too stirring, I could abruptly set down

My friends, Daphne, Saul, Edith and D.H. would never leave me

Cause even when they died, I could see them again,

If I so chose.

View original

What you see is all of Me

it’s serious, shirt pressed crisp,

white as white

I face the mirror, reluctantly

imperfect, soured by habit;

what I used to see

after magnifying my world, up close to  see the pain

I quiet my judgment,

await the sun to follow the rain;

seek to learn, to know, to be, to practice;

 what’s not natural to my brain

diffuse the jagged sparks of old; 

 manifest as pain

the tenderly surround my inner plight,my truth my good

the path that’s real, the link from eyes to heart

prevails through only art

just as it should



the burdens of change what’ true fine art

my outward body pleads with my inward soul

my paradoxical self shakes hands with the crazy artist, and suddenly it’s less heavy to lift each foot, and life the endless stroll becomes an adventure

I wear my wrinkles with prideful

as the masochist that used to thirst for blood, is busily collecting the wrinkles of time, no longer wishing to cover up the scars




Bigger than Life

The ground dropped out

beneath my soul,

the earth I trusted,

A mud filled hole.

As sure as life was all around

silence stilled hearts, a crack…no sound

Our states’ land spilled forth

battered tirelessly by a drink of rain

washing lives from the earth

as if their presence a stain

crushed like a castle,
tended to by a child’s hand, one fatal wave reduced life to sand,
fragility; a message –bruises hearts with a thud,
your importance is savored deep beyond devastation or mud,
one man’s sorrow described his son’s death as the “devil’s hug,”
Tis true, nature’s claimed you, as sure as the waves lap the shore,
but now you’re bigger than life
reach out your hand,
there’s more.

Ode to my dead Laptop

I know you’re there. I want you desperately to know I’ve been watching, waiting to participate, but unable to touch you. I am still mystified by how unresponsive I was to your many subtle hints. I was, in denial perhaps? The feeling is that one… ya know, where the world is muted, the plastic wrap is pulled tight, softening my view. I can see, but touch is what I need. With the barrier between us, you’re suddenly out of my grasp. There is but a tiny peep hole that lets in the light and the smell of rain. I have so much to say, how could it be you had to die for me to realize how special you were? If I was your breath, you were my lungs….. two weeks without writing, I feel like Bambi learning to walk on the ice, just now. Still, the familiar has become unfamiliar and I’m slipping a bit. What you should know is, next time you fade to black, with all of my words stuck inside you, Toshiba….I will be more prepared. I mean it, you scared me, you were unable to recognize my touch, my smell, my raspy voice, deeper than most women’s voices; husky, chocolaty deep; my greasy fingers soft with lavender and sticky from the lemon I squeezed in my tea, my occasional profanity jabbing the air as I make a key slip or hit a concept that gets me all jazzed up….electrified by how satiating it is to feel meaningful, and matter…. to the point I have to say, fuck, feck, fetch yeah. Or just cause no one is around and it cuts powerfully through the silence……you were completely impermeable to my wafts of creative mania, I felt so alone. It was when paired with your absence and Facebook breaking up with me too all under the guise of password “protection,” all 200 friends that took three years in the making, down the shoot…admittedly, I grappled with whether to plug back into all I’d nurtured in the microcosm of technology land. Should I reenter the world and it’s voyeuristic platform of modern communication, so all will know my every thought, mood and move intimately?…..Well, here I am, swiping, tapping, mistakenly closing windows, voice-activating; backing things up with clouds….in case I suddenly join you in the great intangible app in the sky….I should just get it over with now, Goodbye. I hate to be robbed of that word if my demise goes by the way of my laptop….for what it’s worth. We control freaks prefer to have the last word. Goodbye Toshiba, with my blog followers as my witness, I will get on without you. Change has gifted me new perspective. I will meet face with newness and change and take only from it what I need. I now know how important you all are… you-that fuel my inspirations, you- that ready my eager fingertips, you- whose click from wherever it is you are means so much to me “like.” (insert happy sigh). I receive it, as a good Catholic receives the host, readied tongue, crossing myself…qualifying my efforts with “So and so…thought that was” PRETTY AWESOME, ” vindicating me, resetting all to Good status. Translation “that is reeeally good.” I hope I too fill your emptier days..that my words are just what you need to hear to press on, and I promise not to take you for granted. You know, in case you suddenly blip out forever. Take it from me, don’t hold it in. Pull out a piece of paper and pen and just complete your thought, cause they are precious…and should never be held captive inside of a dead computer. Go on write them down and file them, smudgy ink and all. Goodbye……for now that is.