Every piece

I am every piece of fruit salad
In this miserable bowl
Etched out with a hot knife

Pitted cherries that bleed onto shattered apples
Tart lemons that cry onto unripened cantaloupes
Naked bananas that brown, so exposed

Someone took my plans
And diced them into confetti
They have taken my peels and core

I am every piece
Of a bittersweet mess

erosion

There’s a place in this night where my
Brave face melts.
And though it wrenches my heart,
I would go there every night
And say goodbye again
Because goodbye is at least something.

I travel there without a map or compass
To find my way back.
Tears navigate me through this wilderness
And I trust that they will return me
Safely home in the morning.
We have an understanding, the tears and I.
This is where I let them have their run.

Somewhere in between sleep and wakefulness
I let them find me
And irrigate the places
That daylight dries up.
They flow over chipper assurances
And forced grins.
I let them erode feigned strength
And crumble got-it-togetherness.

I would go there every night
And let these tears wash over me.
To remove the cheap perfume
Of the word “fine” and the gaudy glitter
Of a best face forward.
I’d rather weather my skin under this storm
Than be smooth-faced and vacant-eyed

Though it wrenches my heart,
I would go there every night
To be distressed and relieved both at once
Mysteriously grasping something
Too complex for words but not for tears;
That one can see most clearly when their vision blurs.

Amble

If you are anything like me,  you've probably been checking back every few hours to see if I've posted anything new. (I stopped checking shortly after I realized that since this is my own blog, there's really no need to check...unless of course I've been sleep-blogging, in which case, there's probably a fascinating read here.)  Anyway, since I've gotten everyone all riled up about luftballoons and parenthetical parentheses (myself particularly), here I am to sheepishly tell you, in my very nice piano teacher voice, that I can't really blog right now because I need to write a paper.   Mmmmph.

Preamble

Maybe I shouldn't do a Preamble.  It's kind of a weighty gesture, isn't it? I mean, since I'm not exactly sure what this blog is going to "amble", preambling my amble would set up certain expectations on the quality of the ambling to follow.  I suppose the alternative to the Preamble is the Mission Statement, but that seems a bit gutsy and, let's face it, a tad narcissistic.  So I'm just going to get straight to the ambling: this is my new blog, I hope it is good.  I am super excited about getting into a regular writing routine, although I have to admit there is a strong temptation to hold down the backspace button over that bit about a "regular writing routine." Actually, to be quite frank, there is a strong temptation to hold down the backspace button over a most of what I write, so I guess if I was forced to make a mission statement, it would go something like "endeavoring to delete fewer words per minute" or "exploring parentheses within parentheses: faux pas or faux yah?"  (Totally faux yah. (I think these are fascinating diversions.) ) So, there you have it, "wordsplace" is my new words place!! Cue the ninety-nine luftballoons and -goshdarnit- where is a pair of oversized ceremonial scissors when you need them?!!  Oh well.  Enjoy, and don't forget to comment- I love comments.