I had to put my dog Fender down because he hurt his back.  It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do.  The next day my sister in law took me to Davis County Animal Control.  I wasn't planning on getting a dog yet, just to see them.  But when I saw Gibson I knew he was the one.  He's the dog in the picture above.

Gibson is a sweet dog that get's along with everyone, even the kids that come over.  Which is totally different than Fender, who I had to lock up when people came over.  Gibson loves to play fetch, and have his belly rubbed.  And he likes to cuddle.

Getting a new dog was the right thing to do.  My sister in law was right to take me.  It doesn't change that I'm sad about Fender.  It just gives me a little extra room in my heart.

I found some papers from before I quit my job, and got on disability.  This poem was written  when things were bad, because I was so stressed out.  Anyway, judge for yourself.  There is no title.

There is a voice in the back of my mind
Whispering nothings into the air.
I only follow along,  because
I have no where else to go.
Do you think there are nothings
To whisper to the wind,
Or is nothing the strange netherworld
Full of promises often best forgotten
In the dark of the night.

If I told you the truth would
You believe me?
If I told you how close I've come
To Death,
You'd shrink from me.
I've stood on that precipice
Staring down into the wanderings
Of a mind stood still too long.

Do you think I'm lying?
Do you think I'd tell you
A distruth when I have now
Nothing left to lose?
I speak only whisperings of a thing
In it's honesty,
And shout meaningless phrases into the twilight.
Choose now which you will hear.
The other will seem strange
With the passing of time.



There are two more poems written at the same time as this last one.



The door is open on gentle hinges.
At any moment they might give,
And snap closed the plank.
To walk through that door terrifies me.
I fear for my well being,
For my peace of mind,
And in fearing make real
That very thing that I dread.



And the last one:



There are shadows in my head,
A mockery of fairnesss and understanding,
Too late to see the severed hand of love.
It lies outstretched but undone;
To twist between it's fingers
Now the cloth of ingenuity.

Do Butterflies Frequent This Garden

Have you ever promised
But lied,
Or maybe not lied,
But didn't follow through;
Which is kind of a lie.
If promises are like flowers,
Then lies are like those
Huge pitcher flowers,
The ones that smell
Like a rotting corpse,
Or maybe that's just the big lies.
Maybe white lies
Are just baby's breath.
No smell,
And they go along with everything.

I found these poems of mine, almost songs really.  They must be four or five years old.  There are no titles or punctuation.


Sometime I wish you would
Gently die
Let go
Sometimes I wish you would go away
I won't beg you to stay this time
Let go
Oh let go
And I promise
I won't call you back
You're gone so please go
An indrawn breath
And a sigh
See how I'm still alive
So let go
Oh let go

You grip me so tightly
I tremble to know
That someday I'll die
And then you might go



And then there's this poem:


If you've never tasted it
Never hated and loved it
Then you'll never understand me
Cold
And hot
A sharpness that dulls
Fuzzy smiles
That weep
If you've never known the smell
Never heard the crying
Then you'll never understand me
Scars that don't fade
A shame that forgets
Fuzzy and hot
A smile that weeps

Take for me an undrawn breath
Peer into an open door
The one that won't shut
It's supposed to lock out the world

A Little More

Where Can I Get Some

What gives a baby bird
Courage enough to make
That first flight?



Contemplation

Did you ever play that game?
Telephone.
Where a message is whispered,
And everyone laughs
At how the sentence has changed.

There are two kinds of lines, laugh lines and frown lines.

When I'm old I want laugh lines.  I want a face that crinkles into lines I've earned by a thousand jokes, and decades of the happy wellbeing of myself and my family.

I don't want bitternes and envy to show on my face.

More Poetry

Moth

It's an empty space
With a light in the center.
Out in the dark there are walls,
But I can't see them.
I hover around the light.
Looking into it.
Blinding myself the the corners
Of the room.
But maybe, just maybe
The answers I'm looking for
Aren't in the light.
Maybe there's a dresser or chest
With everything I need.
I just have to let go.
Have faith.
And step into the unknown.




Maybe I Should Have Taken the Elevator

Watch your feet on the stairs.
The third step is missing.
The fourth one kind of moans
When you step on it.
It's doing the job of two steps.
The top step is made out of gold.
Solid gold.
But gold is heavy,
And bracket where the left end
Is connected to the wall
Is not made out of steel or titanium
Or any other strong metal.
It's held up with will power.
If the step falls
It will take me with it.