The Couch on 21st Street

She weaves
Amongst the remains
of my weedy slumber

Nudging old arguments
Insisting on review
Making me see

There Are

There are
Those days
when I
feel
all the aches and pains from
The usual and unusual
bumps and bangs from living.

Then there are the days I feel ashamed.

Ashamed
for words I've said
       words I didn't say
       not standing up for another
       reacting With every emotion
but without the facts.
       
And as if that were not enough shame
More is offered
for every forgotten kindness--
the essential oil
of social lubrication.

The Drive

A Thursday Zena Bethel Drive

Fields

of stubble

fresh turned earth

Fence trees

just woke

no brush

come as you are

Small dark birds

Undulating

Throbbing

swirling

switching

Clouds

Enormous

yet floating

sometimes 

leaking.

KGM 9-2018

Hey Neighbor!

Hey neighbor!
I have no idea
of the sights and
sounds we've offered
Over the years
decades
I apologize
for the loud
not fit for public
entertaining or profane
Events we produced
But
We're sad
there was
little reciprocation.

~KGM 9/2018

Once again
I read your words.
Lines of words.
I can't find myself
Within your lines.
But (if I squint)
I can begin to see
What I wished to be.

I never thought I'd be
on the outside looking in
again
Included you kept me
informed
formed
our brood was all about inclusion
but the glue loosens
more and more
the divide widens
i see you over the chasm
at least i think that's you
~KGM 3-2016

Colors of Dad

Palette is ready
Mixed and filled with my version
The colors of you dad.

Brush poised above the canvas

A recliner in the corner
And there you are
Newspaper open and a football game on
Waiting for mother to finish
tidying up

There she is
Sitting on the couch near you
Your hands a loving bridge

Impossible
To paint you on your own
Impossible.

Changing to a pencil
I want to get the details right

Another corner of the canvas
A truck and camper take shape
Campfire
Folding chairs
Friends
Laughter
So much laughter

And now the center of the canvas

You’re home from work
Mother’s in the kitchen
You embrace
The long embrace

~KGM 6/11/2015

Slowed by Trauma

when I was young
I was transparent
dodging what I could
submitting to the undodgeable

I predicted the family future
at the age of 5
but was afraid to grasp
my own salvation

aging finds me grasping
and regretting
regretting and grasping
learning who inhabits this body

I'm still an amateur
but don't underestimate
my ability to offend
or be offended
And
wondering when
I'll be fully grown

~kjm 2013

Compassion

Where is your compassion?

Do you only take it out of your pocket

To show to friends

To parade at parties

Or is it always on your sleeve


Not to be seen so much as to be felt

Slid across your cheek

To remind that you too have a vulnerable self


Who needs compassion?

Those cutting words you utter in private

Leave shadows across your face

A crick in your neck

A hitch in your step

And when you are aged

You will be asking,

Where is your compassion?

~KGM '14