When in doubt, post a poem.

I've been wracking my feeble brains all day to try to come up with a post worth reading. I'm sad to say I have absolutely nothing of interest to say. I feel sort of empty. Perhaps it's yesterday's soul sucking that's catching up to me, and today was more of the same. It could be that it's cold, and dark, and all I want to do is curl up in a comfy chair with a good book and cup of tea. It is time to hibernate after all... but I digress.

Instead of a post of my own, I want to share a favorite poem of mine. I hope you enjoy it.

Overweight Poem
biscuits with honey running down into the deep crevices
thick dark bread cut into fresh chunks and butter waving over the terrain,
red berries and yellow cream

am I thinking of these things
or you?

Love fills my body,
all the crevices
for the first time. and I feel
heavy
like the September limbs of an apple tree.

Feel opulent

and don't like this opulence.

Coming from a man who knows less than I,
one who, like my father, talks big
and goes away;
one who, like my father, loves deep, a lot,
and goes away/has many others.
And I want it all.
A man who is everything.
Everything I can find in the refrigerator,
or the fruit bin, or the oven, or the larder, or the cupboard,
everything in the silverware chest, the freezing
compartment;
I want him to be handsome and brilliant and
making a mark on the world, rich, responsible,
older. Someone to rescue me.

The British Museum, perhaps.
Something that will last well.
My favorite foods do not keep well;
must be gotten fresh each week.

I never know how far
for the sake of wisdom
to carry a metaphor.

Diane Wakoski(1965)