A Jazzy tune for Trudging


A Jazzy Tune for Trudging

Under the soles of my feet
These Yokohama streets roll by and by
Ants in a rat race
Rats in a shark tank
Watching all the people scurry by
Pressing, pressing,
Onward and ever upward and outward
Pressing, pressing,
Onward and upward and outward
And sky high

Through the souls of the streets
A hundred thousand feet walk by
Jumping for the brass rings
Jostling in the straightaways
Eyes never looking to the sky
Pressing, pressing,
Forward and up toward with eyes cast downward
Pressing, pressing
Working till the bones run dry

Under the soles of my feet
These Yokohama streets pass by

One Place to Start Loving Myself


One Place to Start Loving Myself

Today it will be the top of my calf.
It’s a good place to start.
A place to start loving myself.
You’re not so bad, top of calf
You have an elegant curve.
You haven’t been sore today.
You let me jump a few inches off the ground in cardio
With you on my side,
I might not be so bad
So unappealing
So doomed…

It’s a start.

In the Stillness / Climb


In the Stillness

In the stillness of an early morning pre-sun
One eye opens halfway
To ensure you are still there
Resting as you were the night before
Sleep smoothing life’s tensions
Limbs bent and wrapped around the blankets
One eye opens halfway
Ensuring I am still here
Resting next to you
Undiminished and whole
Before the demands of the waking sun
Remove us both
Both eyes shut
In the stillness of an early morning pre-sun


I told my muscles, “Upward!”
They responded, “Not inclined.”
I chuckled and climbed.

Not far, I promised
When muscles asked for rest
That was just the first crest.

Second ridge was harder
Nothing but stairs into the stone
Muscles took accusing tone.

Pushed us further onward
So close to the peak
Muscles cried out, “We are weak!”

I cheered them “You are strong!”
We hit the top
And had to stop.

Then the horrid moment
Muscles shaking, scared and bent
Contemplating the descent.

Upward, I had cried
Muscles knew from town
What goes up, must come down.

Muscles win the argument
Once I’m soaking in the bath
Facing their knotted wrath

They don’t know my plan
Of going out with a friend
And climbing next weekend.



I’m eating goldfish crackers

All the way down to the salty crumbs.

Then I eat the flakes too.

Walk in ineffectual circles,

Listen to ineffectual music.

Recite ineffectual mantras.

Because when you told everyone to leave you be,

That today was your “writing day”

Then suddenly you need people

And you can’t bring yourself to ask for help

Or speak of the hurt

Or untangle your necklaces

The only thing you can do is wallow.

Eat all the crackers,

Avoid the whiskey in the closet,

And hold tight to the main mast

Until the squall passes.

Because deep down you know – I know –

That the storm may not pass entirely,

But it will eventually mellow,

Which will give you the space you need

To breathe, to write, to speak,

And push through to to the next, new sun.






The Value of Sadness

In our quest to never be sad
We saturate ourselves in corgis playing with balls
Pandas rolling off logs
Bats stretching
And cats failing to be catlike.
In our quest to never be sad
And have “all the feels.”
Because we have decided that feeling sad is the pits.

And it is.
And it should be.

There is strength in sadness.
Sadness is empathy.
The ability to see that all is not shiny
Proves our link to each other.
Happiness is a lovely thing,
But to drown in happiness is ignorance writ large
in an unending stream of sloth .gifs

Sadness forces quiet.
Screech joy, whisper condolences.
We fear seeing hearts in pain
Lest we be reminded of our own scars
Lest we be reminded in moments of quiet
That we have our own interior ash piles,
Remnants of fires we savored and lost.


I’ve been feeling a little overwhelmed by the amount of animal videos on my Facebook as of late. And by all the caps lock joy from my adult friends who simply “Can’t even!” with “all the feels!” That lack of specificity, that need to be exuberant always strikes me as unhealthy. Almost as much as the flip-flop between overly joyful and needing hugs posts that populate my wall. It’s as though we’re now operating on this extreme teeter-totter, where on the one hand it’s screaming unintelligible sounds of happiness, and the other is sad emoticons and over-zealous counter emoticons.

Just feel sad – let yourself feel sad. It’s not like you won’t feel happy again. And maybe feeling happy after feeling low will feel better than being made to feel like your sadness is not wanted.



I feel confined in my own arms.

I stretch.

And stretch…

And streeeeetch them out…

But they only go as far as my fingers.

What genius designed these things?!

I want to touch the sky!


Don’t you ever get that feeling – that you are trapped in the confines of your own physical space? This tiny poem is but a sliver of what I feel sometimes. Next step: writing the fullness of that feeling.