A Writer's 21st Century Memoir.
He asked me what I would say to God if I could have any question answered, And I said that I would have little to say. If I had to go on living after the question I would endure the rest of a life substandard.
There we were still existing in a pause between breaths that attempted to move life forward. Our mouths were wide with smiles and our eyes frozen never seeing the day we grew apart.
I wrote a poem with the LA River in mind, but I also drew parallels between the river and the highways that weave in and around Los Angeles.
I wanted to write a poem about my love for the sun even though summer calls for a much more intense presence. I still stand transfixed by the view and wanted to write down my unorganized thoughts and share them with you.
And then it happened without warning.
Many of those same kids
now in high school or off to college
don’t come by your house anymore.
They no longer call on the phone.
You once resided
in the heart of the goddess
of fruitful abundance.
A house nestled
in-between
the thinning orchards
that bore life.
And as we all age
the new life shows signs
of thinking like you
when you were that age too.
You are the life blood.
The necessary pieces
that help us put together
who we are
and where we come from.
OctPoWriMo Day 28: If The Sun Never Rose Again A dark heavy blanket lies over the land, and the bright white lights that shine through its holes never dim as time goes on. The moon in the sky still pulls up waves over the sand, and those waking now from sleep wait for eternity until [...]
OctPoWriMo Day 23: Santa Ana Winds It’s barely seven in the morning and I’ve just gotten out of bed. The sun has just come up over the horizon and I’m already sweating what seems like bullets of lead. I get dressed, walk out the door, and feel the wind on my face. The weather is [...]
OctPoWriMo Day 8: The Sickness She fades in and out of the haze trying to grasp reality. Her new cough and shaky breath have become her banality. High fevers and hot sweats plague the entirety of her nights, As white blood cells guard the body in ongoing fights. She keeps tissue on the end table [...]