He was so excited
on his way to see his children
he asked to borrow my pen
then paper
so he could do the math

he drew some scribbles
then asked for help with his pretend numbers
so he could tell her how many miles
he’d traveled to love her

no one else was there but the three of us
he asked me to play his favorite hymn on my phone
to calm himself
then he danced right there in the restaurant
and sang along

he said he danced to praise the lord
he blessed us
as he made wild gestures
like a wizard shooting
lightening bolts from his hands

His face was bruised
dried blood around his nostrils
but he couldn’t tell us about that
it would bring trouble

I am waiting for my brother to pick me up
Can I sit by you?

he borrowed my pen again
but didn’t ask for paper
talking endlessly about god
and satan trying to steal his soul

but he couldn’t say more
because he might be overheard
by you know who

the restaurant
had given him three sandwiches
and he gave us two

Keith asked him what his diagnosis was
the same way you’d ask someone
where they bought their shoes

Bipolar and Schizophrenia
since I was a kid
I’m 44 now

they talked for over an hour
fast friends

the owner told us
she could ask him to leave
if he was bothering us
when we said he was not
she was relieved
her big heart
wanted him to be welcomed

when he left
he sprinkled us
with invisible blessings
we blessed him back

It was crowded that day
and he felt it
wouldn’t sit
couldn’t sit
felt threatened
said I have a gun
(but he didn’t)
if people mess with me
I’ll mess them up
I’m all powerful
you should stand back

Keith persuaded him to sit
they had a chat about life 
and taking medications 
when we should

his odd gyrations and bared teeth 
seemed less like a blessing  this time
more like a hex

He said he was hungry
but had no money
Keith bought him a sandwich
he ate it quietly two booths away
and stared silently out the window

we watched with concern
he said as if half sleeping
I need help
please call the police

We asked if we could call  
anyone else first
maybe his brother

there was no brother
I am homeless

please call the police
call 911
I am in an emergency
I need a ride to the hospital

we called 
gave our assurances
he was calm and compliant

the officer was gentle and kind
textbook perfect
patted him down for weapons   
walked him to the squad
where his partner was watching

one of us cried
the other managed not to - barely

mental illness is so unfair

We wonder where he is
we wonder how he’s doing

life is way too hard for way too many people
people who need love and community

people who want to sing and dance 
to their favorite hymn

people who have nothing 
but still share their sandwiches

people who just want to bless you
but don’t quite know how 
through their veil of mental illness

all thanks to people
who lovingly care for them

in our own way
may we each do the same

Since you are reading this, allow me to congratulate you on making it this far. I know the first half of this letter wasn’t easy to get through for some of you. A lot of us have mental illness among our loved ones or even struggle ourselves. Please know how much you are cherished for the important role you play in someone’s life. And please keep reading. There are happy poems ahead.

How do I find it?
the young girl dares ask
how will it find me
I’m under this mask

I post and I snap I tik and I tok
they slander and snub
they slur and they mock

it’s hidden, we say
but here’s where you start
first turn off your phone
then open your heart

stand under the stars
in the dead of the night
hold your gaze high
and find it you might

wade in the ocean
love someone new
dissolve into something
that’s bigger than you

Who are you
what do you want
where do you belong
how will you love
what are you for

carry these questions
in your heart’s pocket

find the answers
in your own soul

no one knows them
but you

THE VIRTUES OF BOREDOM

As far as fallacious theories go
I take umbrage
with the one that makes
excitement a requisite for happiness

As one who can fold laundry endlessly
when my basket is finally empty
I will gladly fold yours
never tiring of this simple boredom

an afternoon of sweeping
the stone walks and patios
that grace our homestead
is one of my favorite past times
I relish the way my breath adapts
to the steady rhythm of the broom

give me a warm day with a light breeze
no sounds but the rustling of trees
twittering of birds
and laughter of distant children
I will tend the earth until sundown
the pace of weeding is perfect
I cherish its quiet repetition

as I write this
I am serving hour twenty-eight
in a hospital room
beautifully bored
waiting
soothed by this empty tedium

monotony is a spiritual practice
dullness is meditative
beneath the ennui
lies the tempo of the universe
and it softens and slows us

we feel what it is
to be a wave in the ocean
a cloud floating in the sky
in step with all creation
slowing to its heartbeat

unexcited happiness

I see so much striving 
buried 
in this endless list of dreams
scrawled in journals
planned in spreadsheets
plotted on calendars

my soul’s whispers
little flowers I am driven to plant
I don’t know why
only that I must
make it
write it
build it
paint it
read it

love it into existence

I trust the list
it is my map

 As children we feel it
everything we want
is right there
almost ours

the quest
for happiness
begins

so we chase it
endlessly grabbing
then clinging

as we grow tired
and disillusioned
we stop for a moment
to catch our breath
then chase again

this is the game
and most play it for a lifetime
pursuit of happiness

but as we grow old
too battered
too slow
too weary
for this chase

we stop forever

and it comes
wave after wave
here all along
waiting for us to stop
waiting for us to notice

this is the new game
surrender to happiness

If you’re wondering what got me started writing poems, you’ll find the story here. Or, if you’re wondering why this collection is called Slender Stalk, click here. If you’re wondering where you can read the past issues of Slender Stalk, click here. If you’re wondering where you can read more of my poems, check out my website: Life at 240.

If you know someone who you think would enjoy these poems, please feel free to forward this email to them. If you’re reading this poetry letter for the first time, you can subscribe here to get ten poems emailed to you at the beginning of each month.