A Po-em

Through ages of dirt on glass panes, 5/6/2012 (digital photograph)

 I celebrated my 50th birthday on Wednesday...I was born on a Wednesday, so it's a full circle kind of feeling...I feel no different, the aches n' pains are the same, no big deal. Other than the usual life things that go on, it was a good day...I ate too much Thai food, but that's okay, my digestion will get over it. My Fred bought me a Nook Simple Touch, which is very nice because it was what I wanted...I like it that it's "SIMPLE", getting older now, I have less patience for complicated gadgets with too much shit on them to distract me...I multi-task enough, thank you very much. No, I don't want to check my email or browse the net while I'm reading a book...I want to read the book. As much as I like the little gadget (I did want it), it will never replace a real book made of paper, I still buy books in bookstores and I will always publish my books in paperback. It's a novelty to see my two little novels in e-ink...(yes, I bought my own books from B&N after I uploaded the files.)

I'm still fussing over chapters in my next novel Drinking from the Fishbowl...progress is being made, tho' glacial at times. Two more chapters to go after this one that I'm working on, then I'll print up the whole thing and go at it with the red pen and make it bleed throughout the summer (or not...I'm hoping not, but I'm not going to bet on it!)

So...between the various emotions and events that are happening at this time...turning 50, having my first Mother's Day without my mother to celebrate with, and her first birthday since her passing...and my concentration with the novel, I became inspired to write a poem...my first in quite awhile...a little rusty, but it's there, it's done for now...and it goes like this...

Things I wish I never knew,
and I will be normal.
I have ceased to question the sky,
the sun and the moon,
the stars. Ancient constellation dramas,
celestial phases,
solstices and equinoxes.
Eclipse. Time moves on. Ask - why?
All these questions, I'll make up the answers-
ingenious fictions about nothing. No one.
Not me. Whisper - sigh.
Sighs and whispers. Secrets. Plots.
How good do you have 
to be
to be
considered a "good person"?
We grow. Above and beyond the child we once
were. Partially - complete.
I have always been aware of how I break,
customarily in half, like everyone else -
tho' sometimes in thirds - or fives.
No, actually, that would be fifths.
I prefer odd numbers. That solitary odd one
would be me. Left over. Left behind. Single.
Alone. Thankfully, I have you.
I love you more
than there are fishes in the sea
and stars in the sky.
True story. No lie.
Is there such a thing as too much love?
Relative - relativity. Dreams and realities.
Layers and layers of life in colors;
muddy the waters. Shades of gray.
Shed and tear -
tears and skin.
The things that hurt.
A bird hit the window -
trying to escape, knocked senseless.
I cradle its soft life in my hands,
it's safe with me until it comes to; 
some do, some don't - wait
and see. Black beads blink,
feathers flutter - fly away. Be free.
Stream of consciousness - a sunbeam
through the broken window pane.
Go. Go on. 
Move on
to the new version of normal.

A Walk in the woods. Me n' the big tree at Old Fly Marsh, 4/29/2012