Some Words I Hate
Letting go.
Getting over it.
Closure.
Moving on.
And one more:
Stillborn.

Gathering Strength
It took me years
to reach a place
where I could say your name
without a sob escaping.
We used to lie together at night
and whisper thoughts and dreams
while the house slept.
And I knew you best.
You grew inside me all those months.
I hoped and loved and wished
for your joyous birth.
But you died the day you were born.
I lost myself too.
We were that connected.
And now I've discovered there's more for me to do.
So I whisper your name often
and I remember your sweetness
and I gather strength.

In memory of Dylan Dakota Houk, stillborn August 29, 1998.


Hush
Not many poems are written
about dead babies
because if you've never held a lifeless body
and watched blueish skin turn colder
you just don't want to think about it
and if you have searched
a tiny face, trying to memorize features
knowing it is the only time you'll have
you don't want to think about it either.
So the poems are silent.

"I didn't say it would be easy. I just said it would be the truth." - Morpheus

You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you mad.
--Aldous Leonard Huxley British writer

It does not require many words to speak the truth
--Chief Joseph

Truth sits upon the lips of dying men.
--Unknown

Speak the truth, but leave immediately after.
--Slovenian Proverb

And finally from Mark Twain...The difference between truth and fiction: fiction has to make sense

And then the cat gets into a snit.
After all these nights he has sat on one side of the glass door
while the coons are on the other side
and they all watch each other
peacefully like
until tonight when he gets into a snit
and growls and hisses and tries to be so big.
Who are you, George W Bush, I ask him
while I am also spilling some cat food on the floor to appease him.
The coons are still watching
nervousness in their eyes...
just like the poor watch Washington.

Some Truth

when I was a young poet
I had time
but nothing juicy to write about.
I didn't know death
or sorrow
like I do now.
Hell, now we are on a first name basis.
Now I have so much to say
and I am running out of time.

Love hard
watch the sky every day
and live without borders.
That's what I'm talking about.

When you close your eyes
make sure you are DONE.

Relations
So all you want
is to connect with me
just for a moment.
You want to forget
that your rent is late (again)
and that your shoes are falling apart.
All you want is to dive into me
and pilfer my best ideas,
my courage and my grace.
So you can forget who you are
while you strip whatever is left of me away.
It won't ever be enough, you know.

Celestial Lessons
Two in the morning
the raccoons and I watch each other warily
while they eat and I type
crunch of dry cat food
click of the keyboard
even the birds are asleep.

My mind however, is not quiet in the early morning.

Racing around corners of my psyche
and hoarding loyalty
is hard work that pierces the mind.
gentle words will come
like sequestered thoughts
the moon is a good listener.

Funeral Day
On the day we buried our son, our families all left by mid-afternoon
and there was just me and Jason and our 4 year old daughter
and I was so blasted tired, but I couldn't sleep
I was afraid to sleep.
So I turned on the TV and just listened to the voices
and waited
for time to pass so I could feel better
because everybody said that time would do the trick.
And I popped painkillers every three hours.
and tried to climb back into the fog.
Sierra was stung by a bee.
Nothing made sense to me.
Everything had changed.
I was trying to hold on to my little family
and I was so scared.


I remember wandering through that apartment and it wasn't my home anymore.
His baby bassinet was gone, as I had requested,
but some of his things were still there.
I couldn't stand to look at them
and at the same time I wanted to memorize them.

Everything I had ever believed about fairness or truth
dissipated and I was left shaking my head and trying to find some hope to cling to.
Eventually my body began to heal
but it took a lot longer
for my head to catch up.

Random
Even knowing how much it was all going to hurt
I still wouldn't have wished you away.

Even the raccoons have left me.
The cats eyes are weeping
my power bill is 32 days past due
and the phone bill goes unpaid
my sense of humor is cheap anyway-- and dark and brutal.

I've always lived close enough to train tracks
so that I can hear the last late night whistle.
It's just enough country to center me.

Cemetery

I carried dirt from his grave site
to the Japanese Garden
and left some of him there
so I could come and visit
when I needed to.

Some sacred places
exist quietly
without fanfare
without signs
that garden is a much a cemetery
as Tumalo is.

I can sit at the top of the creek
and listen to the water
and count blossoms
and quietly remember my son.