Here and Now

Where Success is Measured by Failure "Call 911 or go to your nearest emergency room..." where no one will know you  or your history where you will have zero access  to anyone you even half way trust where you will be drugged into oblivion  pharmaceutical numbness; where you will miss work and be forced to lie  in order to keep your job where you learn  to keep your fucking mouth shut vowing that if it ever gets to this point again you will succeed Angela Minard 2016© Artwork~ "Incomplete" by thuyngan.deviantart.com

Beautiful It is January and so she counts the days Three before the deepest sleep Safe with you for awhile she believes... Stepping into an early darkness   waiting in the parking lot aching She doesn't want to drive away Pausing for a rest within the emptiness She is tired and may not survive  the days in between "Describe my face." "Tell me what you see," you encourage but the words do not come  Your eyes;  the soft color of moss growing along the roots of forest trees in the spring Your mouth;  crookedly amused or set in a straight line... Love  makes everyone extraordinarily beautiful She wanted to tell you Beautiful... Angela Minard 2016©

I remember standing in line with the heat of the Texas sun flooding down, as I held my brothers small, sweaty hand. We were waiting to see "Grease," and the buttery smell of popcorn rushing out of the air conditioned theater each time someone opened or closed the door made me feel sick to my stomach. I was eleven, and I didn't understand the word "rape." I didn't have the vocabulary at the time for what had happened to me. The timeline in my head is confused, but it must have happened not long before this memory.  We stood in the heat, and I remember feeling lost and numb. As soon as we stepped inside the lobby, I vomited all over the ticket takers shoes. My brother began to cry. I took him into the bathroom, wiped his tears, and scrubbed the splattered bile from my tennis shoes with a useless paper towel. We weren't with an adult, but they let us in without question to see the movie. That probably wouldn't happen in 2016. I dropped into that...

How We Smiled I watch your mouth how your lips curl  away from your teeth a flash of lightening never reaching your eyes although your voice curiously slow and warm crawls inside my belly  like a parasite returning to the host I am not your home shining your familiar, empty grin You are a stranger and yet I search beneath the facade   for the real you  that remembers how we smiled  Angela Minard 2016© Painting~ "Stranger" by Llm Cheol hee

What is Real? I am so cold on the inside that I expect to see my breath as I exhale but I do not "What is real?" "Am I frozen?" ...and so it goes around and around as I circle myself like a hawk ready to dive bomb its prey the questions creating space continuing to run further and further away from the truth into my own outstretched arms these arms withholding comfort pinching flesh with disgust avoiding my own gaze your gaze... Without knowing we refuse to see but the ice is crystalline magnifying each tormented thought and what was once numb ignites I am so hot on the inside that I expect to see flames as I exhale burning flesh but I do not "What is real?" Angela Minard 2016© "Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice.  From what I've tasted of desire, I hold with those who favor fire....

I'm here to write, and I have no idea what will unfold. Sometimes when I come here, I have an idea in my mind, but not this evening. I think I want to actually write about writing. I have read many of my poems in the yoga classes that I teach, and someone usually approaches me after class either asking me if I have a book, or encouraging me to publish a book. It isn't quite that simple. I want to. I even have a somewhat finished manuscript of my poetry and observations, but I have never been brave enough to send it anywhere. Poetry books aren't in high demand in the publishing world. I'm thinking of self publishing, but it costs money that I don't feel like I can spend on something so frivolous.  I have had a few of my poems published either in book or magazine form, but it is certainly a shot in the dark to think someone would publish an entire book of my poems. I've always been one to dream big though, and when I want something badly enough, I go for it...

For the past few years I have spent my New Years Eve at  Darling Yoga . My teacher has all of us draw angel cards from a bowl, and these cards have a single word on them. I try to focus on that word throughout the year. Last year, my angel card was "Light." I wrote this post "Light"  about how that card felt so perfect. This year the card that I drew was "Contentment", and it too was ideal. It is something that I have been working a great deal with because contentment feels elusive. It probably has something to do with my perfectionism, and never feeling as if I am "good enough." As soon as I reach a goal, I pick it apart...I wonder if I am a fraud, or if everyone will see that I truly don't have a clue as to what I am doing. I struggle with finding contentment with exactly where I am, or comfort with what I have. I find that gratitude comes more easily than contentment. I am most certainly grateful for everything that I have, and the ...