Yesterday

Hold those thoughts

That keep me away

While the lights

Echo my lonely fears

In the streets tonight

——-

They say the world

Keeps changing everyday

But I wake in the night

I feel the same

——-

Maybe we’re so much older

Maybe we’re so much younger

Maybe we’ve been here before

Pour me a drink

Don’t let me go

——

The summer is coming

These clouds won’t stay so grey

We can’t live out our hopes and dreams inside yesterday’s

Writer’s Log

I’m tired

We’re all tired

It’s a month in

Driving home through GA

The interstate was clear like thanksgiving ….

No, like the Iron Bowl

I’m glad for this mountain, this space…

But we have no real timeline

How is this sustainable ?

Maybe I’m just tired

I’m having a very different experience than most people

Being on the front lines if you will…

I just want to sleep

Drink

And write

If I could

I would drink and fuck my way through this but I can’t

And I already know I wouldn’t

I’m a giver

And I’m concerned

And I can’t sleep

It’s a month in

When all of this is over

They will open the bars

And the restaurants

The theatres

You won’t be able to get a seat

Then i will go into quarantine

And I will sleep

I will vacation at my home in the mountains

I will write

And I will sleep

When this is over

I will kiss you

And I will see you

Sketches from the heart of this wasteland

Oh where have

You been?

April your lips I have found

Your whispering voice

Echoes through the emptying streets

Of this town

Your shifting feet

Echoes through these trees

——-

And I saw

I saw it all fall

The world that we built

All that we had invested

Burned right in front of us

Is it enough

To keep us warm

When the winter comes?

How many ?

How many ?

——

The Joker dances in the streets

The street worker moves to the internet

The trees let go of all that they are holding

The grass grows

And it doesn’t consider us

The ocean crashes in

Whether or not I’m there to perceive it

——

And I wonder

Whether

They build their guns

They build their ships

They scheme their games

Building us up

Just to cut us down

——

Will our blood flood the empty streets

Whether we hold our breath

And pray for the rain ….

Will you even remember my name

——-

Hurl your banners

Your worst fear

April

You’re here

Now tell me my worth

Tell me my name

I’ve tasted your lips

Now show me the cards

Tell me your name….

Tell me the prophecy

Tell me

Who sketches the heart of this wasteland

——-

And in the valley

In kitchen

In the mountains

In hospital bed

In the living room

The rich

And the fallen

The guilty

The innocent

April turns her face

And we all hide our tears from this place ….

Writer’s Log

I’ve moved to the mountains, I never thought I would move this far out. But it’s April and National Poetry Month…I always try to write a lot during this time…I believe this will help me.

I keep telling myself things will go back to normal. I’ve written and checked on a few friends. Some have already lost family members. All of this is surreal. I don’t see how it can go back to “normal” if we lose people we love.

I think the worst fear. Or realisation. Is that this doesn’t care who you are, or where you’re from. And you will die alone. Your family cannot day good bye and they cannot grieve your loss…

My dad died alone and so this really hits home for me…

It’s like a shadow covering the sky

You know this will leave a mark…

Holding your breath

Hoping, waiting,

You’re constantly thinking about your employees and their safety and your friends and your community, did I clean this ? Did I touch that? Did I do enough?

Are we safe? Are we out of this shadow? or is this just the eye of the storm…

Writers Log #25

I tried writing a few letters. My hands shake so much, you couldn’t have read it. I’m not really sure the last time I slept well. I wonder about the weather, how it will change everything. We all have short term memory.

Will I run out of things to say?

This is not the end

Just get through these hours

Look for the opportunity

You’re still you

I have this nervous energy

Everyone is awake

Wanting these days to end

I’m tired

So tired

And I wonder

If 14 days is enough

I’ve been, along with so many of us, working for 13 days 142 hours and we all see the same things…this isn’t enough, this could be our reality for a few months…

I hope for new art

I hope for new beginnings

I hope we are strong enough

Let us be good

Let us be good

Are we good …

Writers Log

I’ve started trying to keep a better journal, I know this is a once in a lifetime event, everything is happening so fast, I’m very aware that there are events I will miss or forget altogether.

I don’t want to be so caught up in trying to survive or just being self absorbed that I miss it.

Honestly I probably miss a lot. I start my day at 4am and it usually ends around 6 or 7pm

I’ve spent almost 20 years working retail, specifically grocery. I’ve never seen it this wild.

I have a lot of thoughts on a lot of aspects of this, mostly because I over think everything. But I don’t want to add to the hysteria.

I have my cashiers wear gloves and I start every day cleaning empty shelves, registers and shopping carts. Even when the tornadoes came through in 2011 it wasn’t this wild. Most of my days have run together. I’m just trying to write more and not think too much about it. I keep telling myself “this is once in a lifetime.”

But honestly, I’m exhausted. Patient, grateful for community and thankful for a job and my employees. But exhausted.

I’m thinking about moving soon. Maybe to the mountain. I haven’t been that way in years. But it’s where I grew up. I feel strange, a certain way about it. I can’t pin point it. But I will figure it out. I think it might be good for me.

Time heals everything. You grow, trying or not you grow. Like a vine, around and through. Time is going to move you.

I need to start cooking again. I miss it.

I’m trying to piece another manuscript together. I’m not sure why. I just feel like I need to stay busy.

I’m terrified that I’m not a good person. I’m growing older. I just want to be good. Not perfect just good. I need to figure this out. The root. The base value.

Like math everything has a base value. Find it. Break the problem down. It’s easier to digest.

Just be good. Just be good. Be decent. Understanding. Listen.

Write. Everyday.