The lonely runner swims through the streetlights’ pools and into the dark again.
The Lonely Runner
Category: poetry
Masked and Hooded
Like a shy girl, I stand, masked and hooded, bemused by the empty street, waiting to learn how to be in this time. Where is the answer to the unformed question hiding under the weight of lost hopes? Which way to turn to nowhere? There is no rushing, only waiting while fools seek blindness for comfort, and the wise try not to weep.
Before the Cold
The intensity of autumn colours: beauty and immanent loss.
Pandemic Moments – September
At a table on the sidewalk, by the coffee shop - bliss in the sun. Two masked women rush together, hug, masks rubbing, then step back - physical distancing for talking.
Childhood Cottage
Looking for my childhood cottage, rain welcomes us, and my mother's landscape was unrecognizable now. except in some corners of my psyche.
Enough
By the midnight fluorescent flickering I wander bemusedly searching for a meaningful question in this empty time. The rain sweet breeze blows in the open window and, as I breath, my heart loosens, throbs, hesitates, yearning to warm and accept the dark otherness with its questions without answers. I am pulled to the dark lake And the windblown moment: And now is enough.
Now Normal
Cars are driving fast again
cursing detour signs
sprouting like COVID masks
A Pandemic Series – My Red Lipstick
A Reposting of the Three Red Lipstick Poems, in Sequence
These three poem-videos belong in this sequence, not in the reverse order in which the blog displays them below, based on when I initially posted them.
1
My red lipstick is annoyed,
muttering behind my mask,
wanting an escape.
2
My red lipstick explains
shyly,
she is not annoyed;
she is afraid.
Afraid I will permanently abandon
her, and my rings,
and the new dress fluttering on its hanger.
Now –
and for all the roiling days
masked in the fog
of an un-normal future.
3
My Red Lipstick Mourns
My red lipstick mourns,
huddled in her drawer,
as I mourn, too,
bare-lipped behind my mask.
Now – I groom for “meetings”,
my red lipstick appears,
digitally
trying to represent who I was.
I yearn for, mourn for,
the times I touched, hugged,
and groomed for,
locked away now,
My Red Lipstick Mourns
My Red Lipstick Mourns
My red lipstick mourns,
huddled in her drawer,
as I mourn, too,
bare-lipped behind my mask.
Now – I groom for “meetings”,
my red lipstick appears,
digitally
trying to represent who I was.
I yearn for, mourn for,
the times I touched, hugged,
and groomed for,
locked away now,
like my red lipstick.
My Red Lipstick Explains
My red lipstick explains
shyly,
she is not annoyed;
she is afraid.
Afraid I will permanently abandon
her, and my rings,
and the new dress fluttering on its hanger.
Now –
and for all the roiling days
masked in the fog
of an un-normal future.
Learning Living 