Tuesday, March 19, 2013

St. Patrick's Day Reflection

I awoke with a pounding heart
and shaking legs,
the Jazz from my computer playlist still
silently resounding.
I made a cup of tea to calm my nerves.

It's been eighteen weeks since I've had a drink
and, by result,
I am drawn further and further into the forest.
I still waste time in
√Čire Pubs, Blues Joints, and Rock 'n' Roll Clubs.
I'm more well-behaved
(yet not nearly as brave)
amongst the Beautiful Ballerinas.

I miss the Devil Whiskey, especially on
St. Patrick's Day.
This hankering nips at me like
rabid mini minotaurs.
St. Patrick, I pray, chase these snakes away.

Friday, March 8, 2013


I can feel it pulsating my veins,
my blood, my life, my chi.
My legs are sore and my brow is sweaty.
The sound of metal weights upon metal bars delights me.
The woman to my left breathes heavily.

At nightfall, I am weary and relaxed.
I smell the lemon chamomile brewing.
Herbal. No Caffeine.
Sometimes I add honey but tonight
I drink it straight.
No chaser.

I am unsure how I perceive myself.
I sleep easy and light, rain beating upon
my rooftop and yet I dream vividly.
"Forgive," I tell the Angels.
"Be still," they tell me.
"Love is on the horizon."