Pain

I guess the good thing about feeling this way,
is that I know how you hurt and so I can relate.
But, there's that good thing, so it's not the same.
For you, there's no point of pain day after day.

My Soul Has Room to Grow

Funny how when I stretch my arms up in the air,
my soul has more room to grow.
This invisible thing near my chest and my brain
uses these cells to tell and to know.

In Lieu of Flowers

In lieu of flowers,
plant vegetables,
and then you'll keep
your table full,
and you'll still die,
just not as soon,
and we'll plant flowers
by your tomb.

Buildings

There comes a time
in a building's life
when you start to compare
demolition and repair.
For a building,
there is no such thing as
aging gracefully,
dying with any scrap of dignity.
Only scraps of scrap.
Because a building is not alive.
These bricks are not like cells;
they don't have organelles.
These walls are not like skin;
they can't choose what to let in.
And so we work our living bodies
and we burn our living skin
as we strive to keep alive
these buildings we live in.

Don't Go Outch

I'd advise: do not go out
when there is no wind.
A mosquito will slurp you up his snout
and spit you out again.

Some Things New

This computer that I type on
will not always be mine.
Like all machines like this,
it belongs more to a time.
But we can stretch its life,
or rather, we can stretch its use,
with some things new– a trackpad
and a battery with more juice.

Funds

At the zoo, there are jars with signs
filled with coins and fives and ones
to help animals not go extinct
since dinosaurs died of lack of funds.

In These Two Weeks

In these two weeks since I have written,
the first warm days of spring have come,
and we have spent no little time
making up for lack of sun.
And we have talked until we've found
where our sameness ends
and then we've talked until we've found
a way to still be friends.
And I have pushed the stroller fast
for miles on the trail
and we've come home, sat on the step
and sorted through the mail.
And then we pruned the apple tree
which had been getting thick
and you reached out too far to lop
one more superflous stick
and that is when the ladder fell
and so, of course, did you.
I rushed you to the doctor
just like when you had the flu
except this time your eyes were rolling
back into your head
because your pinky snapped in two.
I'm glad that you weren't dead.
And now you have some little screws
holding the bone together
and a blocky splint to wear
in this nice springy weather.
And our baby took several steps
until she stopped and saw
she was too far up off the ground
so she dropped down and crawled.
And I made logos and labels and emails
and you made calculations
and tips and wages to put in the bank
to save for a downpayment.
Our seedling have sprawled across my desk
and into pots on the floor.
I am surprised how much they've grown
but maybe we've grown more.

But a Man That Old

All paint will chip,
all shingles will peal,
all siding will rot,
but your bones will heal.
And even when
you're getting old
you won't be covered
in mushrooms or mold.
All driveways will crumble,
all stairs will creak,
but a man that old
will have wisdom to speak.

Get Well

I'll bring you water, herbal tea,

and orange juice to drink.

I'll tell you "Drink it all,

you are thirstier than you think."

And if you don't drink it all,

I'll be able to tell.

But most of all, I just want

you to please get well.

That Pop

That pop in my knees,
that crinkle in my joints–
is there a disease
to which these point?
Arthritis? Inflammation?
Too much running up and down?
Is it a real big problem?
Or is it just a sound?

Flow Meter

I think I need one of those
flow meters for my nose
so I can measure all this snot
'cause all I know is there's a lot.

Festive

Tis three days before Christmas

and I'm sick in bed.

My face is kind of greenish,

my nostrils are red.

So I'm looking pretty festive

as I sit here sipping tea. 

I bet that even Santa

wishes he were me.

First Thanksgiving

You didn't want to sleep.
There was too much going on.
All these people to hold you.
You smiled at our laughter.
You waved to say hello.
You let us get to know you.
You ate some sweet potatoes.
You reached for all the sweets.
Your stopped to have some milk.
You crawled across the floor.
You pulled yourself to standing.
I'm so thankful for your health.

Get Well Soon

Get well soon.
We'll go outside.
We'll run around the yard and
rake up all
the leaves and move
them all into the garden.
Get well soon.
We'll go somewhere,
drive off without a care and
stop at stores
and buy some stuff
and generally run errands.
Get well soon.
We'll have some fun.
By "fun" I of course mean work.
Get well soon.
Unless you want
to stay and rock and nurse.