Fever

Oh! but let me tell you about the Fever....

It's a delicate whisper of a thing.. a brevity really, like passing through a faded, dense fog quickly - it tickles your senses, and vanishes like a naughty winged-one whisping by your ear. The fever is a punctuation, a sharp brilliance moving with haste. Have you had the fever? If you had you would know because words won't do it justice.. it's a tingle of intimacy, a jolt of sunshine, a shivering sliver of sadness through your bones, IT is half a blink in a bottomless-blinking world... the fever captures us in a moment and then lets go....

It will leave you with a watery eye, a distant, morose look, a racing heartbeat or dumbstruck in the middle of a too-bright store aisle. Lost and found. The fever leaves it's haunting fingerprint, light enough to dissipate over time, but clear and distinct enough to feel ever so profoundly......

What will you do with your fever I wonder? will you blink it by like an afterthought (like most) or pour your instinct into the unknown...A coin toss really. With the world on either side. You flip that coin and decide your fate. Walk the road of easy, lit path and common fragrant flowers or the unsure, dark abyss of muffled sounds and unknown mystery. How much stock does one put in a question mark? And how much do you believe in the dark, the fever?

Fade to Fiction

Warm regards amount to nil

Keep them for a rainy day...

Give me something real instead

That won't predictably fall away

But you couldn't and I shouldn't

So i won't cross your doorway again

Connections fade to fiction

Stiff lip and a quivering chin -

Unpretty

Apologies
feel
like consolation prizes,
An
empty
box
With a
pretty
bow.

Details

The clock's hands are moving too fast for my head. More time. More time. Not enough to say it all, get it all in...never enough time to say what's really important. No one wants the unabridged version of life. We have slid into a world of efficiency - go go go. Cell phones and cliff notes...now, faster, better, easier. We text our vocabulary down to abbreviations. We have Go-Gurt (yogurt on the run, because that's important) We have Ipods and Blackberries and Kindle's so that we can perform all our tasks at once and as quickly as possible. Tick tick tick....
But i pause for a breath... i don't want it - this hurried, skim milk version of what life has become. I want the full played out scene, the footnotes, and the time it takes to notice the details. Yes, the details. When did we all decide in our techno-craze of faster-bigger-better-more that the details of life were an afterthought??
I want to notice the sunlight hitting her hair, the change of expression in an instant and what that entails. I want to be witness to subtlety and all its glory. I want to always notice the pauses and linger in the delicate silence between epiphany.
Keep your hands off my landline, my paper and pen, my actual physical B o o k, and all the beautiful things that take T I M E. Yes, the clock is ticking..and until they have changed that i will revel in the fact of being able to hear it and know that i can sit here and wait for one more second to pass doing absolutely nothing efficient or fast.
I can't say and do it all in the time allotted. I don't want to. I want to bask instead in the details of what a person, a place, a situation holds. If those fine facts aren't important, than i don't know what is.

Green

Why do i like green so much? Color analysts would perhaps say it is the color of money, or nature.. I like the nature part. Money is nice (duh), but it is merely an exchange, a means or status...It holds nothing truly substantial on its own, or for me.

I wish i could buy a crayola box full of 100 shades of green - it would make me happy. The Chardonnay in my glass right now with a dark light behind it looks to be a pale green - lovely.

Green makes me feel safe and warm- it can be bright enough to be happy but not over-indulgent. Neon green isn't a color - Neon anything is a myth. Those shades are a grotesque exaggeration of a good thing....it's like those fun house mirrors where all the images are distorted and you never really know what you're seeing.

I think Oregon is a good home for Green. Perhaps I'm securely placed? I can do without my crayola box...i just need look out the window to feel safe and warm.

Halos and Pedestals

I think you'd like me more...
Since I knocked you down a peg
It's not that your Halo was tarnished
I just realized you never had one -
Halos and Pedestals aren't for the living
Or the dead
We're all a bit broken and flawed...
Perhaps its the cracks in us
That let in the light?

Biscotti and Cocoa

Anne Sexton once said,
"A woman who writes feels too much."
And then she went mad -

I wish i could sit down with her once
Biscotti and Cocoa -
We'd sit under an elm tree on a brisk day

I'd memorize her sadness recording it with my eyes
I'd smile often and hope to say something poignant
I wouldn't reach her at all
But i would try.

I think I'd see resignation and strength
Under heavy mascara and darting unsure eyes
I think i would leave disappointed in both of us.

I would carry the faint taste of
Melancholy
Biscotti
Cocoa
and brilliance.

When Words Don't Win

When words don't win it can breed feelings of failure - especially if one prides them self on the power they hold and ability to convey. If only you could have said it better, if only your palate had more colors.

Reality is often a hard surface to hit. Sometimes the right words really won't matter. I could scribble into the wee hours with Merlot at hand and the whispy breath of inspiration on the air- stain the page left and right until my hand aches. But, when the words don't win it all doesn't matter.

Perhaps another day, maybe when the wind is at my back and the leaves start to fall faster, maybe if i get a better pen or a more expensive bottle of booze. Maybe if I had, were, did - could of, would have, should of... Maybe my words will win tomorrow.