Collaborations of Abstraction

Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Category

Your love is the closest thing I’ve felt

To what I’m missing now

What I grew up with then

Ding Ding Ding!

Did I get the right answer?

Or is that a warning bell?

I blame pop culture

Tricking me with pretty pictures

Baiting me with twisted stories

Catchy songs

But here’s a friendly reminder

Of where I’ll be when the dust clears

Magic doesn’t matter

Fate cast its lot

I’ll listen to my head this once

My heart’s misinformed

I’ll let it keep this view of us

Because this dog learned some tricks

It can’t unlearn

I’ll drive away from

What looks like home

I never stuck around there long anyway


Sitting modestly in the corner,
pipes and hoses hidden from view
in the most abused nook of home.

Every morning I greet
your jaws to the promise
of less sighs, more snuggle time
my exploded workspace
no longer an excuse
no more a source for
my barely controlled contempt
bringing me back to the place where nothing was
ever done
right (?)

Water-spotted goblets for wine
or sparkling juice pitchers
I’m certainly no connoisseur
of clean.

Your low rumble sings
me to sleep as my mind dreams
of fluffy soufflés
rich chocolate tart
moist spicy crisp pork,
pulled and set on toasted love
with a side of
my newest vinegary concoction.

Not once does the nightmare surface,
the ugly hangover of
my kitchen ambition.
You sweep it all away
for me to begin again
my menu’s manifesto.

I’m wearing my skinny jeans I bought in Norway, with sky blue socks pulled over them. Padding down the sidewalk in my red ballet flats, I head down  a dark tunnel toward a dark sea and grey sky. It’s like a reverse sort of Wizard of Oz.

Sante’s with me and we hear the whales before we see them. They click like dolphins do, and I coo back to them. That’s when they start to breach. Sante runs back to grab his camera.


I walk down the tunnel, understanding now it’s a boat landing with a very deep harbor. Folks kayak around with all of their worldly possessions heaped in their little boats. The whales erupt from the water around them.

I coo again and again, walking closer and closer to the landing. The sand and cement meld together and disappear under the dark liquid of the ocean.

My stomach lurches as I hear an answer to my calls, much closer than I expected. A duck-billed whale leaps into the air and up toward the sky. I shake my head, trying to clear my eyes and run closer.

The great sea creature lunges out of the water again, this time right at the end of the landing. Too close, I think as I back up from the water. But I know it’s too late. I edge backwards, leaning into the cement, praying the sand will give underneath.

Its great body leans up out of the sea and toward me, its duck-billed face bearing down on my frightened figure. I  stop fighting, knowing that I can do nothing but wait for it to crush me.

I watch and see now the real beauty of this giant coming toward me. I smile, reach out my hands and greet it.

The bill washes over me, along will cold salt water. It caresses me, and coos at me in a much more beautiful, haunting voice than I could ever imitate. It slides down the landing and back into the dark water.

I lay there, heart beating in my ears and my chest, staring at the grey sky. This key from the sea, it will be my salvation. I race away to tell Sante.

beach footprints

Counting invisible calories.
The regression begins.
My hometown returns to find me acceptable.
Refuse to use the toilet until it can’t wait.
Fear of the bathroom at night.
My hands live in constant fists.
Bottles empty without any satisfaction.
Journals filled with impossible questions.
People I love may appear further away than they appear.
May November 26th just effing get here.

I know I have issues.
But that doesn’t mean
I’m the only one
Who’s fucked up

I will support you
I will respect you
I will love you
But I will not concede
My worth to anyone

sad kid Scars on my right side
Valley of my East Coast
A sheep in wolf’s clothing
Shut that closet door
Leave ’em hanging
Broken bone litters tales
That don’t want to be told

Hold Your Breath

It won’t be long now
Open the door
Let sun shine in
Clean this invisible mess
Some stains only fade

On the West Coast of my body
I choose my scars
Open my minds’ windows
Let the sun in
I’m among lambs
Thirsty for my words

Have you Inhaled yet?

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Tank girl

Shepherd of legions

Tougher than a lion(ess)

Beautiful snare

Vegetarian man eater


Sunday morning graveyard

Nude phoenix

Portal to another wonderland

Barefoot chronicler

The white rabbit

Eve outside her dimension

Sarah Connor

Dragon warrior

Alien espionage

Inspired by my cousin’s writing

Collaborations of Abstraction

Two close (though, unfortunately, not in proximity) friends – a Welsh man living in Ireland and a Minnesotan woman living in Germany – come together to share musings, wit and random things of interest in this journey called life