The Beltane Depression
Here’s what I've noticed, the Beltane time is HARD for people, and it's hard because it's not supposed to be hard, you follow?
poetry, prose & blog
life & reflections put into words
"Rockmelon" by Taylor Neal — SAD Mag
as I slice cantaloupe in the morning.
not to be mistaken with honeydew.
I see her standing at the counter, 8am, before school,
as my sister and I spoon our Cheerios
first in half, then sliced in fourths,
a pause as her toast pops up.
sit patiently on the counter and wait.
the tip of the knife cuts out the gooey middle,
a pile of guts on one end of the cutting board, then slice away the
I’d watch her make perfect cuts, silently cheer her on,
the tough green must go.
popping one into he
not to be mistaken with honeydew.
I see her standing at the counter, 8am, before school,
as my sister and I spoon our Cheerios
first in half, then sliced in fourths,
a pause as her toast pops up.
sit patiently on the counter and wait.
the tip of the knife cuts out the gooey middle,
a pile of guts on one end of the cutting board, then slice away the
I’d watch her make perfect cuts, silently cheer her on,
the tough green must go.
popping one into he
The Pear Tree
we drove through my hometown late one afternoon,
a mid-July breeze kisses my cheeks and
whispers over my shoulders
through the open window
(I always have the windows open)
and the golden light of a yawning sun
bounces off the sweaty hoods of a small town summer rush hour.
and as we idled there,
held by the precious sonance of contentment
my love told me a story from his childhood:
“when I was a boy back in the UK I had a paper route.
along my route, on one of the corners,
there
a mid-July breeze kisses my cheeks and
whispers over my shoulders
through the open window
(I always have the windows open)
and the golden light of a yawning sun
bounces off the sweaty hoods of a small town summer rush hour.
and as we idled there,
held by the precious sonance of contentment
my love told me a story from his childhood:
“when I was a boy back in the UK I had a paper route.
along my route, on one of the corners,
there
flying kites in the desert
folks in homes on wheels of their own making
shrubs dotting guidance for where to spend the night.
the man in my van strums soft acoustics and
someone in the distance sends the sun to sleep
with the flying of a kite.
kites always remind me of you
but I try not to hate,
instead I nod at the memories as they surface one after the other;
this is what I’ve been up to without you,
except for the guitar behind me
being played by safer hands than
yours ever were.
those soft notes make me fe
shrubs dotting guidance for where to spend the night.
the man in my van strums soft acoustics and
someone in the distance sends the sun to sleep
with the flying of a kite.
kites always remind me of you
but I try not to hate,
instead I nod at the memories as they surface one after the other;
this is what I’ve been up to without you,
except for the guitar behind me
being played by safer hands than
yours ever were.
those soft notes make me fe
under the plums
and the sounds of birds
as I have on this grassy land.
my Temple has created a temple here,
of bird baths and candles and potted plants.
the man I love in the magic school bus,
fragrance from the ocean washes in as
the cliffs below us
up on the Mesa
yet close enough to be reminded of water’s power
when one must be humbled in the fragility of humanity
so we tend to the gardens.
everything that is,
is part of our now.
I breathe in and the breeze responds
like his do.
my drink warmin
as I have on this grassy land.
my Temple has created a temple here,
of bird baths and candles and potted plants.
the man I love in the magic school bus,
fragrance from the ocean washes in as
the cliffs below us
up on the Mesa
yet close enough to be reminded of water’s power
when one must be humbled in the fragility of humanity
so we tend to the gardens.
everything that is,
is part of our now.
I breathe in and the breeze responds
like his do.
my drink warmin
I Will Not Be Efficient
My lover recently told me that among all things, he wouldn’t necessarily describe me as “efficient.”
“You are extremely resourceful and extremely capable,” he said, “but I don’t know if efficient is the right word.”
Amidst a very large To-Do list, I was a tad frustrated to hear this. I asked him to give me an example of what he meant.
He said, “instead of buying a new, fully functional working van you spent months fixing up an old one. You shoot film instead of digital, just because you like
“You are extremely resourceful and extremely capable,” he said, “but I don’t know if efficient is the right word.”
Amidst a very large To-Do list, I was a tad frustrated to hear this. I asked him to give me an example of what he meant.
He said, “instead of buying a new, fully functional working van you spent months fixing up an old one. You shoot film instead of digital, just because you like
Respite
a judgement free space where anything and everything
goes,
comes
stays,
without question, inquiry, a slight glance of
suspicious eyes caught in clammy palms or breathy
comments swallowed whole.
goes,
comes
stays,
without question, inquiry, a slight glance of
suspicious eyes caught in clammy palms or breathy
comments swallowed whole.
a cigarette at 2am — Forget Me Not Press
the only source of movement
over and over,
and yet we smile and say good morning as we pour our coffee side by side
optimism in our mugs, our tones
though we haven’t felt the winter in days.
in the dark, in the silence,
where does the carbon dioxide go?
how long have I been here?
over and over,
and yet we smile and say good morning as we pour our coffee side by side
optimism in our mugs, our tones
though we haven’t felt the winter in days.
in the dark, in the silence,
where does the carbon dioxide go?
how long have I been here?
an ode to My Pleasure
My Pleasure is not linear, it is not static, it cannot be quantified, defined, structured in language.
cannot confine in binaries.
it is one thing and then another, flowing,
water.
cannot confine in binaries.
it is one thing and then another, flowing,
water.
"Morning Shift" by Taylor Neal — SAD Mag
rising, in the quiet stillness of the night,
humble witnessing as Luna watches over our most vulnerable hours, sharing those sweet, peaceful, intimate moments in silence ~ just her and I ~ in the protection of a nurturing, heavy darkness
the warmth of slumber lingering on tender skin and sips of steam
slow movement flows gently through space as light begins to trickle across the sky
I blow her a kiss goodbye and send her on her way in whispers as she fades
inviting her sun to take over the
humble witnessing as Luna watches over our most vulnerable hours, sharing those sweet, peaceful, intimate moments in silence ~ just her and I ~ in the protection of a nurturing, heavy darkness
the warmth of slumber lingering on tender skin and sips of steam
slow movement flows gently through space as light begins to trickle across the sky
I blow her a kiss goodbye and send her on her way in whispers as she fades
inviting her sun to take over the
What Moves Me?
Growing up, I was always moved by music. My chubby four-year-old hands finding stability in holding the corner of our 90s boom box as I wiggled my hips before I could walk, I was always going to be a dancer.
Mornings in Vannigan
Sproat Lake — August 26, 2021
My favorite times are the quiet mornings, before she is awake, when the van is still cozy with the lingering warmth of body heat and slumber. I slowly come away from dreamland, back into consciousness, back into my body, and remember the magic of falling asleep surrounded by beauty the night before. My body floods with gratitude for our safety and the cozy bed in which I have awakened, and I spend a suspended moment in stillness, in this moment before I admit
My favorite times are the quiet mornings, before she is awake, when the van is still cozy with the lingering warmth of body heat and slumber. I slowly come away from dreamland, back into consciousness, back into my body, and remember the magic of falling asleep surrounded by beauty the night before. My body floods with gratitude for our safety and the cozy bed in which I have awakened, and I spend a suspended moment in stillness, in this moment before I admit
