Wednesday, July 24, 2013


You're funny, Grief,
But I'm not laughing.

Some days - not many -
But some,
You are there, but gentle:

Bringing memories of happy times
Days when we smiled and laughed,
Days when we quarreled and made up,
Days when life was just

Wine on the deck
Ducks in the yard
Watching t.v.
Just Life

Some days,
Most days,
You're like the Class IV Rapids
On Jim's beloved Deschutes:

"Long rapids with powerful, irregular waves,
dangerous rocks, 
boiling eddies, 
precise maneuvering 
and scouting from the shore is imperative, 
take all possible safety precautions."

Some days,
Today, for example,
Days yet to come
Days already blotted from my memory
You are a beast,

Waiting till my head is turned,
Till my mind is occupied with endless tasks,
Reaching into my chest, grabbing my heart,
Shredding me.

Until all I can do
Is fall to the ground and cry.

Thursday, July 4, 2013


There is a secret place that lovers share,
A place that is theirs alone.

It's the place that holds the memories
Of the first kiss,
The first fight,
And the first time you silently forgave
For a hurt that the other didn't even know had happened.

In this place,
This place of memories,
Are visions
of hours spent together,

Here live the private words,
The stolen looks,
The shared jokes.

The Owl lives here,
Alongside the broken bed,
The "improved" barbecue grill,
And, yes, that damned bell!
It lives here, too.

Living here are the words of love,
The gazes of love,
The actions of love,
The safety of love,
The sacrifices that don't feel like sacrifice,
They feel like love.

This secret place exists
Just for the two of you,
Binding you together
With the gentlest and softest of bonds.

Oh, today!
I wrap you in this bubble, this secret place,
And carry it alone,