Published on: 12/7/2012
Fail to Understand

What you fail to understand she said
Is that there is nothing in the moment
You can do to make things better
Because the issue is what you failed
To do when you had the chance

Published on: 12/6/2012
Yoga

If I wanted crappy poetry, I'd have written it myself.
Eyes closed, legs crossed, mindful of my breathing
And my posture
And the hardwood floor
Radiating cold into my buttocks.
Our yoga instructor begins her practice
Balancing the body and bludgeoning the mind
With the worst verse this side of teenage angst
For ten minutes, we are beautiful beautiful birds
Stretching our beautiful beautiful wings
Beneath a beautiful beautiful sky
And I'd rather be bashing my beautiful beautiful forehead
Against the beautiful beautiful wall.
As it stands, I wonder if faking a seizure
Would get us out of here alive
With our frontal lobes intact.

Kristie, or Crystal--it's hard to hear from the back of the hall
And she seems more like a Crystal
(I knew a girl named Candle once.
She was my babysitter, when we lived in Woodstock
Which explains a lot.
Her parents had come in search of three days of peace and music
Found it, and never left.
Somehow, she managed to grow up normal
And I am still grateful for the talking Viewmaster
She had outgrown and which remains
One of the coolest toys I ever owned)
And Crystal, at last, takes us through a series of postures
We stretch and balance and bend
And I only black out once from forgetting to breathe.