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Ode to Donald Ray Huston

Newport Beach, San Diego,
sun is shining as usual.
The passing parade of flesh
pushes me forward,
guitar in hand, batik, and leather,
big cigar, Monticello, my fav.
“Hey Baby, you play that thing or just carry it around?"
Deep tenor, balding
jeans, t-shirt,
guitar in hand, big cigar.
Bends me a B flat, into the night,
blues in E forever.
Silent pact, never signed or seen.

New York bound
by way of Santa Monica.
Empty pockets, 4th of July.
Hit a beach party, big celebration, all night long
until the combat clad party killers
come rounding up the usual suspects.

Everything left behind,
we make our attack,
"Back Door Man"
silent beach treasure chest,
steaks still on the grill,
sneakers
t-shirts
a jacket
towels
suntan oil
Stephen King novel
portable radio
and 42 pounds of aluminum cans.

Cold can cash cruise
Up the coast Doobie Brothers
"Rolling Down the Highway"
San Fran, Oakland, Berkeley.

In some way off leopard skin lounge
dark faces move
to some mind-bending beat
learned about SAX.
Blowin the blues,
warm brass
fits right between my thighs,
hot lips, tongue-sucking reed, man.
Ain’t never gonna stop.

Wild men flying over broken yellow lines
fortified with Quaaludes,
crowds, old Motown hits.

time warp time
northern lights without electricity,
some cosmic crew along the Redwood Avenue.
They grow everything from scratch
with names like Autumn Song, Angel and Tree.

On the road again.
Reno
Las Vegas
Bright Lights
Big City.

​Denver
Donald Ray is sick,
real sick.
River rebuilds the engine,
tries an herbal cure
brewed on a parking lot fire.

Kansas City
here we come.
Salvation Armies
soup kitchens
soul sailing
we survive.

Cities get greyer
Chicago
Cleveland
PA Turnpike
NJ Turnpike
George Washington Bridge

​Bleecker Street
sidewalk serenade
oiled with Schlitz Malt Liquor in a brown paper bag.
Washington Square Park,
lepers from the dark.
Are we really happy here?
I can't say anymore
not in words,
just the blues.

New Yorkimos
in our vanigloo
my insides are freezing,
we blow a loose joint,
even the dog gets high‘
frozen fingers on the flute
"Desifinato,"
"Moondancing"
"On Broadway"
"Gotta Go Home"
It's a "Masquerade,"
"Somewhere Over the Rainbow"
"Someday Someone Will Watch Over Me"
Yeah

Key Food
shop and dine
garbage gourmets
it's always so quiet at night
we sit in the front seat
share a stolen bottle of Beaujolais
sing old country songs
to one another
over and over again
our ceremony
no papers
no witnesses

You took a sociological exploration
to the other side.
Runaway heroin train
barreling through your veins.
I looked up and you were gone.

Saw you on the street
the day before you died,
no one home inside.

Honey, I loved you, ya know .

Your vacant stare followed me home.

​They found you the next day,
rocked your boat one last time.
"River" scratched in the dirt.
They said you were smiling.


Death is For The Dead

​AIDS AIDS AIDS
I'm saying it
The world looks
and sees what it wants
They have memorials written
They have you wasted and dead
skeleton in your bed.

AIDS AIDS AIDS
Oliver Wendell Holmes
once said
"To find true happiness
get a terminal illness
and take real good care of your self"
real good care,
pajama parties, cookies and milk, afternoon naps kinda care,
lots of LOVE LOVE LOVE.

I see angels flying
above everyone's head.
I see miracles all day long.
In oranges,
brown fat crawly bugs
on the big time journey
across the towpath,
ducks in winter,
Ginkgo trees raining yellow
GINKGO GINKGO GINKGO.

My dog smiling and wagging its tail
to the rhythm of three sweet altos
"knock, knock, knocking on
heaven's door"
Lint and dust dances in the afternoon,
toy Buddha’s on 202 talking to wild things.
Toothless old men
who caught wild fish in Finland
who keep youth in blood
pumping flowing free.

Rivers are always miracles,
they aren't stopped by rocks,
bridges boulders, beer bottles,
old tires, dead bodies,
or even dead refrigerators.
They go around over above under
embracing all they touch,
they never go back to the beginning
to get it right,
changing forever,
seeking, accepting, expanding, being.

We have mortal worlds
filled with gods,
Buddha, Christ, Vishnu, Mohammed, and Henry
the hitchhiker's god.
They walk us through to the end,
shedding our named coats,
our finely pressed out, laid out,
figured out,
fitted in life suits.

No expectations,
no more mundane earthly matters,
9-5 skull famine,
weight loss, facelifts,
fashion statements.
Free to go home,
the early release program,
do the mambo till dawn,
safe sex, erotic safe sex,
free of judgment guilt and shame.

Death is for the dead
and living is for every one else.

​AIDS AIDS AIDS
Hey, I said it.
Don't memorialize, metaphorize, hypnotize, categorize, or sanitize me.
Its hard enough living with an illusion.
No more definitions of my death.
No more sympathetic
death sentence eyes.
I'm not dead dying,
no siree bob,
I'm living
just thought I'd let you know.


​Jesus Never Lived Here
 
Downtown has it’s own flavor
cuchifrito, jugo de naranja
Ruby cries for her roaming romeo
Jose left his seed not much else

now her broken dreams 
mix with the rest 
ground into the grime 
of some tenement hallway

the babies are wailing
little bruised hearts
in little bruised bodies
cigarette burns
fractured bones
postnatal abortions
street style stuff it in a glad bag

angels crying in the distance
wings on fire
lost sirens in the night
souls screaming 
Jesus never lived here 

paper-thin walls tell stories all night long
loud beats   loud voices
feet shuffling meringue 
junkies heaving their guts
blood on the walls    rocks in the bed
barbed wire underwear

outside steam is rising
a lower class of losers
patrol broken lives
they harmonize
in some Berlioz-type movement
works, works, works 
apparatus, apparatus
Smurf, Poison, Dr. Death
 
rats big as cats
sucking fucking eating rats
nourished in subways and sewers
I hear them trading secrets on immortality
They’re building a universe in my walls
 
abandonded building
boyman guards the entrance
yo babe lets see your tracks
drop your cash on the floor keep moving
 
old women calls me over
toothless smile
she grabs a rooster by the neck
slit it’s throat
blood spurts on the wall
she tells me in Spanish
I will live a long life
but bear no children
smears bloody hands on skirt
turns away

Maria, Francesca, Antoinette huddle
shorts to short for February
basketball butts big hooters
stiletto sharp hearts
got what you want baby
paid blowjob #8,634
not counting any more 
 
fifty buck abortion
bare room
bare mattress
queen for a day
that’s what the doctor said
low moans
mi dios pardarme  
pardarme
 
goodbye Lower East Side
 
Houston Street 
Attorney  Ridge 
Stanton  Essex 
Alphabetland   
​
ciao baby

Legacy

​afraid of living     
afraid of dying
walking empty-handed into the void
stripped naked
no man no money no job
just me and my illusionary
 body
that carries some strange disease

can't say what it looks like
speck of sand   mac truck    flash of light
who knows


they were dancing in Dido and Aeneas
Josiah Priest School for Girls     England 1607
the girls were excited and nervous
now they're dead   no more excitement
just a few printed words on a torn flyer
pasted to a brick wall    

someone stuck in a history book

3 AM all the things to be afraid of
open your veins c'mon let's go
nothing seems important enough
to live for
except 

maybe you    
all of you
how disappointing if I were gone
you'd be pissed off
all that spiritual shit and the bitch just offed herself
had at least a few good years left in her


the Queen of Carthage was betrayed 
by her own kind
what deeper hurt    deep cut
open-heart surgery    no anesthetic
pain so great had to be pleasure
better than 3 AM numb nothing


through the parking lot 
nightgown   bare feet      mossy river's edge
cold wind cold mind
watching life pass   dark swirls
bright lights over the bridge
chink chink chink


I remember driving around
drinking beer with Michael
how I wanted him to love me
front seat sex 65 miles an hour
I'll do anything
love me love me love me
is that so wrong?


I am on my knees 
​
in the garage  talking to God
can't feel a thing anymore mom


there was orphans too
grandma
on her way from the shtetle
a young girl
no birthday
hiding in a hay cart
dangerous men
sharp pointy objects‘
can open you up
split you down the middle
dangerous men
but you turn spit in their eyes
call them pigs you have your pride

you wait for your last minute
to catch up to you
then there is only laughter and
clomp clomp clomp
the big boots walk away


free again to sweat it out 
somewhere else
Bronx NY     factories on fire   fingers sewing
East LA    canning sardines   fishy smells
in everything you touch

boy sat on the beach
watched his red ball go out to sea
never spoke again     your son
ran out of words early
never did say why
ball never did come back


​I stand on the edge
with bits asphalt of 
embedding itself into my skin
In a prayer to god or maybe

just this parking lot
I dream of suicide but it only seems 
right in the brightness of the day    

at night there’s hope 
that I will die a natural death


​Back in the US, Napa, California 2018-2021


After He Left 

I open a bottle of beer
I had bought from home
and a packet of pretzels from the vending machine
 
I watch a true crime story
about 26 black boys killed in Atlanta
by a benign looking man.
It happened in the eighties
I have always liked serial killer documentaries
 
The beer makes me fuzzy
I pick up broken pieces of myself
from the cheap hotel carpet 
put them in my bag
go home
 
I’m fragile
easily broken
but feel little
 
I do not believe in 
God Love     Truth
 
Horrified and amused at myself
I walk gently
up the metal step of the trailer
 
My dog is always happy to see me
I feel the rawness between my legs
try not to think 
I just want to be loved



Skylab 

when the world tilts towards  you
and there is too much desperation in it’s eyes
masquerading as love
you know there is little you can do
 
so don’t have expectations
just fly/ walk
Empty-handed
into the void

I smell the death of me
in my mother
who I love/hate

my heart pieces are kept separate
so they do no harm
for the time 
I’m here
I try not to wreck things

extreme isolation
a universal traveler
going to incapacitated places
low on the lake
lots of leaves in your eye


when I swim
it terrifies me
to see I am still alive
numbed
disco
soul
floating



Living in Mexico

​Mexico

​I can hear a subtitled film from
the room next door
the music of some wayward mariachis
add to the sound track
firecrakers applaud the virgin
children speak in outdoor voices
the churchbells ring
 
I stare at the airshaft
as the day turns to night
 
I don’t think of suicide anymore
or worry about the dog dying
 
I only speak bad Spanish
let my brokenness
be the beautiful mess
that is me

When My Prayers Go Unanswered

It’s late
I hear sirens
soft rain falling
I walk from empty room
to empty room
looking for an answer
Lucy licks my tears
she looks concerned
 
The hound dog next door,,
is locked in the garage
he harmonizes his wails with mine
his prison made of brick and morter
mine ethereal
 
When I had a husband
he would walk in the garden
or look the other way
when I went mental
physically he could deal
but when I started writing secret messages
on the bottom of the mattress
he cried.
 
I asked God or whoever
to extinguish my soul
but everything is still in order
breath in out
blood pumping
 
These demons are taking me for a ride
 
It is usually late at night when they come
I keep the knives dull
so when I cut it is never forever
just a reminder
 
Lucy is grateful


​Mexican Neighbor

​The neighbors rang the bell
they told me I was disturbing their dog
with my wailing
I fell to my knees
hit my head on the wall
till blood blended with tears
they quietly closed the door


Island Life; St Thomas USVI 2010-2015


​Christmas Eve 2010

​74 degree
trade winds
about 10 miles per hour
I was not resentful this morning
when someone
wished me a merry Christmas
 
the vice president
is coming to the Island
they paved the roads
towed all the abandoned cars
to the barge for removal
redid the pallapas on the beach
everything has a veneer
of shiny
new
goodness
we need to protect him
from anything unpleasant
 
I like the smooth roads
I like Christmas
lights in palm trees
I like warm water
I sit on my porch
no snow
no sorrow
 
when something
needs to be fixed
I use duck tape
everything seems to be
working out

Trade Wind
 
​It  was not
about anything in particular
just all of it.
 
The fact that I might live
made everything different
sadder
greyer
 
I had given in
to TV
meat
sugar
anger.
 
You (husband)
so flawed
so ideal
me: so brilliant
at fixing you
till I stepped away
saw the damage
I had done.
 
I packed three suitcases
a carryon
took a plane
then a boat
to a remote island
because I needed to go
thousands of miles
to a place where
water is precious
and everything you have
is carried in on your back
where you watch
metal rust
from the salt in the air
and the ocean
that surrounds everything.
 
I always thought
if I got sick enough
I would float away
on the sea
warm womb
erasing who I was
but I’m afraid
of open water
even though I swim everyday.
 
I was three
when I was caught
by rope and pulled down
to ocean floor
my mouth and nose
filled with saltwater
saved by a father
who still cared
still I think about the water
in a romantic way
nothing real.
 
Whenever I was ill
which was always
you (husband) would carry me
to the soaking tub
it was the only thing
that could get me through
the first nights of the IVs
and you
unconditional you
whose only goal was
to make me smile.
 
Me so untouchable
after so much illness
so much loss
dead husbands
dead friends
the rapes
I could not even feel bitter
let alone love
still your affection
sustained me
even if I could never
understand it.
 
I was just waiting
for the last moment to come
you kept me company
my diversion
my lifeline
till I didn’t need it anymore.
 
Resuscitated
I walked away
maybe at the lowest
point of your life
I didn’t know how
to help
​except leave.
 
This morning
the clouds are coming
in from the north
a squall threatens
to emerge in all it’s fury.
 
I think of you
the you I met
ten years ago
not the broken you
filled with rage        bitterness
you
 
I question whether
it was weakness
or strength
that made me go
I was always called selfish
so I get confused




Island Living

It's a funny place
just to say the name
elicits smiles   dreams
the postcard part
not the horse left to die 
tangled in barbed wire part
or the starving dogs
tearing a young hen apart

I saved the horse with wire clippers
I was too late
for the hen
 
Each morning I wake up
to the steady crash of waves
crazy blue ocean
you can see forever
still I know it's not forever
or as big as what I've seen
that is god
yeah, I am saying it
nameless
but personal
fuck it
I was a non-believer
till I hit this rock

there's something
about having a bat fall on your head
in the middle of night
you move slowly
until you know it’s a bat
otherwise it could be deadly
 
the other stuff
is just that
like eating my dinner and then noticing the ants 
or how I squeeze my eyes shut
after turning the light  on
in the middle of the night
to let whatever freakish intruder
scurry away first

​I am not alone
 
I tell Carl
no movie tonight
it took 20 minutes
because he's either deaf
or drank too much everclear
at least he kept most his clothes on 
 
Peaches wants me
to help her fix the shoe
she carries around
but never wears
 
I gave Sidney chips and water
he passes out
on a pile of cardboard boxes in the alley
 
I tell it to the dog
he looks at me with tired eyes
 
I tried to paint
instead
sat in a folding chair
watched the clouds roll by
then the rain
then the sun
then the night
then the silence
 
I want distraction
I want someone to say something funny
 
I watched someone eat
chocolate cake last Saturday
he put his plate down
I swiped at the icing
I didn’t eat it
just examined it
then shook it off
 
I live in moments
my near life experiences
here at the end of the earth
 it’s all the same
except no Starbucks

g

Lovers I Have Know Since My Divorce
​
Man with ebony skin
you dressed stylishly
spoke with a fake accent
anything to deny
your heritage
 
you came to me with
with daisies and tequila
10 am
I used the small door to
not let you in
but you never stopped
 
one rainy morning
with the sun still low
I said I would fuck you
just don’t say my name
or think it means anything
 
you fell in love
 
even though I was dying
I still had the energy
to make you leave
you called me cruel
 
I just knew what I didn’t want
 
The other two however insignificant
have to be counted
 
Number 2
you told me everything
felt so good
I agreed
you hesitated
as we curled around each other
lubricated by sweat
serenaded by the broken fan
just one thing
you said
please don’t tell anyone you know me
 
I stare at the ceiling
my poisoned blood
unravels everything
 
you justify
it would kill your parents
your children
what about my  job?
 
but your self-employed
I say
disentangling myself
from the mess
 
I watched you for years
with loathing
till one day it turned to sorrow
then nothing
just nothing
 
Number 3
he was drunk
he said I was beautiful
​then passed out
 
I wonder if there will ever be another
will he tell me I am the prettiest girl
in the whole wide world
see my darkness
as  love



Poems from my Marriage 2000-2010
Future Husband
​

I struggle with your words 
ignore the plainness
the fact that you still talk about high school.
 
I  want to catch your tongue mid sentence
suck the meaning from it
your hands planted firmly on the wheel
make me squirm.
 
When you take hold of my hips
there is little you can do wrong 
muscle under skin devour me
even after twelve hours of roofing
or whatever thing you do.
 
Your essence sparkly and ripe draws me in
shameless in lust
you lunge for my flesh still on the bone
but just barely.


​The Need To Die
​

The need to die
has passed 

my words are from the
mixed lot at the dollar store
cheap but effective
 
I barely have a grasp
on the existence
of anyone else
some call it selfish
 
it is more like a wall
penetrable with effort
 
everything seems too fast
I have to sit down
by then it’s too late
for thank you notes
hope you get well
congratulations
 
I was schooled
in narcissism
minored in sarcasm
learned my life out loud
on stage
 
every failing
glaring underneath
the specials
usually cool
sometimes warm
 
I always felt like I was dying
from the time I was six
and drank turpentine from the can
 
I was saved by dreams
little girl
it’s all right
it’s all right
 
I believe
not in God
but magic
and the children I killed
 
I was named after no one
I stopped crying
a long time ago
 
I became vegetarian
after tasting ham
I used to believe I had a twin
someone who understood I existed
 
I have never had my tonsils out
or bungee jumped
or untie my shoes
before I take them off

I wear black
because it is simple
I paint my walls orange
 
My birthday coincides
with the death of Jesus
and the smell of hyacinths
sometimes
 
I live alone
except for the husband
on the couch
with the weather channel
chanting
Gustav, Hannah
waiting for something with an I
 
I get an occasional call from
A telemarketer
It’s okay
It’s okay
I tell her
 
I don’t forward e-mails
only listen to books
 
I flew to Japan for a weekend
first class
Take Me Down Little Suzie
the soundtrack to my trip
 
Dead flowers
Basement rooms
rewinding me
and reminding me
of where I came from

I was born in a small hospital
at time when
birth was mundane
 
It is 10.28 AM
September 1, 2008
I don’t want to kill myself today
lucky me.
​Brain Leak 
​

rashlikepainlikefeverlike
can’t bear it
 
don’t love me
too much
let me crawl
inside myself
till this thing
destroys or leaves
don’t make me
look
like
a baby
cry
baby
 
Rashlikepainlikefeverlike
don’t hurt me
shame
I’m not
frail mortality
mercifully blessed
 
Don’t ask me
don’t tell me
about sorrow
scratch
or God


​Chicken
​
​o
nly one chicken
came home last night.
I walk the road
calling for the missing chicken
it was the chicken that liked me
she always wanted me to pick her up
 
they say chickens are dumb
maybe... but they fill me
 
try not to think
raccoon,
fox
hawk
maybe a car
hope it was fast
 
I’m a spectator
to my losses
looking for love
in box after box of Captain Crunch
chocolate milk
the eyes of my husband
fast asleep
 
like a heart monitor
he knows me
every beat and breath
he loves me
I can say this for sure
 
he has sat through blizzards
of bad times
overdoses of fucked up days
with every step I take
the ghosts follow me
 
“Here chicken, chicken, here chicken”
I can‘t lose another one
I tuck my anguish
into every cell in my body
 
my heart is tight as a fist
I devour everything
a corn thrasher
in
out
until there is nothing
more of me
to contain the tidal wave
the perfect storm
of grief awakened
with one missing chicken
 
at night
I make a raft out of numbers
days without sugar
three meals a day
nothing in between
the amount I weigh
years without booze/cocaine/heroin
dead husbands
dead friends
the steps
from my studio
to the house in the dark
the age of a son
long dead
the birthdays uncelebrated
the chickens killed
 
morning is bright
I walk on eggshells
is today the day?
 
I prayed last night
for God to take me
to trade my life
for the eminent death of a child
someone’s beautiful baby
someone’s unthinkable tragedy
 
in the morning I make pancakes
no chicken yet
go back to sleep



Chachacha 

​Chachacha
don’t you know that I love you
swollen feet
chachacha
I’m thinking of you
chachacha
don’t wake my husband
or the shrink
definitely not the doctor
 
Don’t tell secrets
itchscratchitch
don’t you know that I love you
I sound all right
all right
I’m not those words
I’m not those bumps
you’re the night
can’t move you any faster
I’m definitely not me
you’re definitely you
 
chachacha
no emergency room
can’t help me
4 AM
I’m sprouting
retaining
swollen
hurt hurts
alone with you
4.05 AM
chachacha
kill the dogs
chachacha
don’t do that
itch
shame
itchy hot
red hot
you (me looking at me)
fear is a comin!
bar the door
pull the dresser over
  1. don’t let it in
  2. god what did you say?
  3. you will never leave me?
 
my husband breathes
1-2-3-1-2-3
don’t wake him
scalps on fire
scratchscratch
if I could find the gun
I could find the truth


​Confessions

At night I whisper
all my fears
to your drowsy back
muscled and a sore from
swinging a hammer
 
I only have a few years left
I feel like my bones are bruised
I’m so scared
a woman with this same illness
died this morning
I meant to visit her but I couldn’t bring myself to do it
do you know  
I had three abortions

one forced 
one rape
one mistake
I wanted children
I think about them
when I lie next to you
three small bodies
draped in black
with one soul
forever cycling through
 
before you came
I was waiting for the end
nothing to betray my belief
there was any future
hurled into early enlightenment
permenetly chained to the moment
 
my right arm goes numb
tucked under you
your stale breathe steady and slow
on my cheek
 
If I live how will you feel
when you’re thirty-five and I’m sixty?
you’re so beautiful
 
In the time meant for sleeping
I rub my cheek against
the stubble that grows
on your jaw
the gun is in the drawer
a constant reminder
there’s an easy way out
 
I hate the way I look
I see the disease now
in my belly and face
how can you love me like this
I am so tired
I found more bruises today
 
I lie silently
till there is nothing
more than crickets
on a summer night
the after the fourth of July
sound of the crowd gone home
the residue of my thoughts
stowed safely away for another night
I watch you open your eyes
smile   rested
just another day 


​End of a Marriage

I still think about you
 
you who held my hand
every Friday for almost ten years
as they infused my body with poisons
hoping to save me
from my incurable self
 
you who cradled my trembling body
lifting me into the tub
hoping the warm water and oxicodine
would make it tolerable
 
I suffered
till my marrow softened
and made plattlets
that allowed me to live
one more week
 
you made me laugh
sat in the front row
were a marvel to look at
 
you asked me once
if I ever listened to anything you said
I said no
but I loved the sound of your voice
 
I always will
 
I love you
I am sorry
forgive me


​EX

I called my ex husband tonight
almost asked him back
for the wrong reasons
the sea has shown me
no one can make it better
I feel all desire leave me
wet, salty, heavy girl
 
it is a different kind of sadness
the realization
nothing ignites you
you're too damp
 
I think of the way
you used to make me laugh
how I loved to say “My Husband”
you adored every inch of me
pity was never present
though sometimes
it was all I wanted
 
You expected so much from me
not personally but in a bigger way
you were brave when I couldn’t remember my name
funny when I crawled across the floor
to lay on the cool tiles before I vomited
when I went blind
you sent me to pick out the bathroom tiles
I never saw you cry
maybe I never saw you
 
I was not unconditional
when you fell apart
and wouldn’t leave your room
I didn’t know what to do
365 days later you still sat in your chair
I left you there
 
I love you
always will
but not in a healthy way
I love you because you filled me
where I was empty
I could do nothing for you
lost in the wilderness
bewildered 


​To my Dad 1929-2015
Happy Birthday Jesus!
​

I've never celebrated a holiday.
It takes training to do that, or children.
I have neither.
 
Christmas Eve
in the supermarket;
I bought day old cakes,
lox, and whole bean Verona coffee.
 
My future
stood in front of me;
round little Jewish lady,
thick grey hair peeking out
from watch cap.
 
Why do I always see myself that way;
bundled up and alone.
She makes her purchase
shuffles towards the exit.
 
I’m on my way home
from the hospital,
been going everyday,
well almost,
to see my father.
 
It is the most time
I’ve ever spent with him.
Two days before Christmas
they wheeled him away
shaved, catheterized and IV’ed,
before he went in he made me turn my back
while he took out his teeth
handed them to me in a paper bag.
 
Later that day, unconscious,
plugged into machines,
I stood by his bed,
he was so still.
 
They let heart patients wake on their own
he looked exposed.

I’d never seen my father vulnerable,
least not physically,
except one morning when I was six,
he lay on the floor of the living room,
in his underwear crying.
 
They say kidney stones
are one of the most painful
things to experience.
 
He had always been kind to me,
if not always present.
I forgive him for this.
 
Christmas morning
feels like Yom Kipper, 
Day of Atonement,
another holiday
I’ve never celebrated.
 
I sleep for 14 hours,
not an escape,
​ just rest
I do not believe
I have ever just rested.


Telephone

650-787-3073

Email

rivhuston@gmail.com