On Funny

I am not funny
in the moment
when I try to be
I don’t write anything
my funny is accidental

I am too sensitive for funny
so I don’t hear my words
until they’re outside
my head

into your ears
laughter floats
into your mouth
bubbles of funny
pop out to surprise me

refections of your
laugh make me laugh
my funny is accidental


Poetry Snacks P. 2

Take small bites
so you don’t have to chew
I’ll do it for you

universal truths
your love, your loss
cradled in my hands

don’t worry there won’t be
words to pick
out of your back teeth

here comes the choo choo
open up

Pot Bound

My outgrown tangled roots
are bound for a bigger pot

Tradition states my choice…
and it’s two sizes too small
as they say
so the moment I’d settled
my roots had already grown out
left most untidily tangled

To be frank, I’m tired
after two times too many plantings
my leaves droop as I fight for space
against myself, to be sure

but I’m frighted of a too big pot
one in which I might get lost
what if the edge is far away?
so I can’t find it
to sit decisive-like and say
“I’m clearly too big for this pot
I must make myself smaller”

On Forgiveness

We must understand
The need to
support and forgiveness
of ourselves
Before we are able to
support and forgiveness

We are not yet able to be
to each other
because we are not yet able to be kind
to ourselves

We must practice
our appreciation and support
for ourselves
And we must practice dutifully
our appreciation and support
for each other

For change to happen
Our daughters, our sisters, our neighbours and their daughters
our mothers and their mothers
must learn how
to forgive themselves
For change to happen

Forgive our inner voices and
all the inner voices
we can’t hear
but assume are unpleasant
because we believe
those negative thoughts
of ourselves

we are due for something better

We need to listen
to words without judgement
we need to lift each other up
by speaking the truth respectfully

and then

We must believe each other
and allow this learning to happen
with support, tolerance,
understanding and forgiveness.

it’s time

As I Wash dishes with my Cat

As I wash dishes
I watch my cat
chase spring bees
with her chattering eyes

Petroleum focused wonderings
to chase away the soap

what I mean when I
think gas is I’m confused
(a little angry also)

and what I mean when I
think confused
is somewhat
willfully bubbled from
backlit information
shot at me from
the gun in my hands

I don’t want to know gas
is 88.5 in the city and
100kms to the west it’s 105.9

I want to think it has
to be that way
the cost of a life under cover
in some idea of paradise
or just some one’s home town
to escape after school is over.

Some laugh strategic
the greedy game of life
is owned by the few who invented
Fox news and celebrity idols
who shout, point and giggle that
change is impossible the world
is too horrible

I hate washing dishes
that cat hates the bees
she’ll never catch
but it’s just a screen between
what she wants and her
forced reality