A Divorce Change for You

You didn’t have to change:

Your Social Security card
Your bank account
Your credit card account
Your driver’s license
Your passport
Your address
Your credit rating
Your tax bracket
Your home to renters insurance
Your car insurance coverage
Your health insurance coverage
Your depression prescription
Your therapy schedule
Your ability to entertain
Your ability to travel
Your wardrobe size, twice
Your shame meter


You only had to change:
—  Your mind  —
To recite marriage vows
To wife #3


Finish Today


Finish today. Declare it done. 

You lived it with all your acumen.

Blunders and absurdities, no doubt, crept in.*

Give them their laugh, then rest.

Tomorrow is ripe for untroubled fervor,

informed by the ventures, and

untethered by the specters, of today.


*taken from Ralph Waldo Emerson

You’re Never Around When the Portal Opens

Sometimes, there are short windows of
time that hover in the air, so I
decide to let my hate for  you slip
on through.  I’m so weary of it, and it’s
always  fidgeting to be free.

But, since you’re never around when
the portal opens — to thank me, for vindicating my
valor, for finally letting it go — I snatch
it back, by its tail end, at its moment of
escape, and redouble my grip.


Hozier kick, Part II. Also Delta Rae.

“The way she shows me I’m hers and she is mine
Open hand or closed fist would be fine
Blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine.”

This boy…Now that I know what this song is about, and have seen the video, I can barely get through it.

It is so powerful it hurts.

I don’t mean to diminish physical abuse.  Ever.  But, if I could…join in…this is also me — and thousands like me — who suffer(ed) from emotional abuse.

“And it’s worth it, it’s divine
I have this some of the time.”

The beautiful part of that kind of a relationship is what it makes the swing of the pendulum to the opposite side so heartrending.  So tragically disappointing.  So easily deniable.  There is never the rare beauty of the one side without the bitter rage of the other.   And if you decide to leave, you are the cause of the rare, sweet wine’s death.  It is collateral damage to the death of the hot, smarting physical and/or emotional wounds.  That’s just the way it has to be.

If you don’t know that, well my friend, I hope you will soon.

The beauty of Cherry Wine’s perfection hurts just as much, and just like, Delta Rae’s Dance in the Graveyards hurt when my father passed away:

“And while I’m alive,
I don’t want to be alone mourning the ones who came before
I want to dance with them some more”

Listening to this artistry hurts like…like something I haven’t been able to describe yet.  Maybe like fucking waxing your whole body.

But a truth, exposed in a way many of us can share, helps us heal, no matter how close to the bone it is.

Long live songwriters and other artists who heal.


Babe, there’s something tragic about you. Something so magic about you. Don’t you agree?

Image result for hozier

Yes.  And “yes” no matter who we’re talking about.

Obsessed with Hozier, especially the song, From Eden, that starts that way.

Not obsessed like a screaming fan,

more like in awe of the poetic brilliance of his lyrics.

Not to say his voice and looks aren’t…unique accompaniments.  Thank you for choosing a ponytail and not a man-bun.

I’m trying to think of this post from the eyes of my daughter, who is more in the vein of a screaming fan.

I creep me out, then, but an older woman should be able to express her admiration for a younger talented man.

What seems to make it creepier is that I want to know EVERYTHING about him.  She doesn’t.  She says it ruins her enjoyment if she knows too much about an artist.

Just so you know:  He’s Irish (turn of phrase goes to you guys), child of a blues musician, given name is Andrew Hozier-Byrne, very tall, and seems very sweet to fans.  So far.

Go listen if you haven’t yet…

My daughter has my permission to pursue a relationship with him.

See?  Yep, still creepy.  Sorry!