Wishing I had spent more time
with my mother before she died

Not so much more time but
perhaps better time

Come

I will use that thought
and move it forward
to now

To do with you what
I did not know how to do with her

Just because I did not know how to
spend my time

Really exhaustoolated
Hanging from my toes
I need a rest

I just want to put my head
down
And close both my little
eyes
I don’t want to hear no
noises
While I am hanging off
the edge
I am QUIETLY SLAmmming
the door
Good night
I am going to bed

Walking in the forest

Shadows
Patterns of my mind
Trees whispering
Branches are entwined

We did not need to ask

No, not a word

I have a friend,
the lady
who can sleep with
dishes in her bed
saucepan on
her head
Hamburger on her patties
sausage between her toes.

She is just a good friend
Of course there is no
accounting for taste
But to let a statement
like that go unnoticed
would be such a waste.