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Tuesday, June 26, 2012

30 something.

I just had a moment where I could not remember how to spell soul
I kept writing "soal" and I looked at it and I knew it was wrong but I could not retrieve the right word out of my head. Thankfully I did not have to look it up- it came to me! This inability to retrieve that which I KNOW happens often and on so many levels. I sometimes find it hard to express empathy and kindness to family members even when I have a surplus of it for my friends. I can't even muster an iota of encouragement for myself but I can tough the shit out of you till you finally do what you need to do just to shut me up. I find it hard to retrieve good writing although I know what good writing is. I find it hard to pull from myself that which is the core of who I am. This is what I pondered today on my favorite day.

Sunday is my favorite day. It is a loathed one for many. Perhaps its because I have spent more time in my life not working than working. But I do remember when I worked that cursed 10-6 5 days a week where my very soul ( here is where I could not remember how to spell) Even so- I loved Sunday. I love endings. I love goodbye parties. I love endings because they often mean beginnings. I love endings because I am so ready for the moment to be better than the last. The only ending I do not like is the sun setting. I'm hard wired for depression and when night falls I crave the precious good mood neurotransmitters that the sun enables. Sundays are the quintessential ending. Its when the week ends- although really - its the beginning of the week according to harvests. Its the quiet day- the me day. 

Chasm


By Danielle Liza Beeber


Lost sense of incoming substance
While bees buzz nightly at the hub of my old existence
I check the battlements and doors
My watch is ticking and there is no time to be anywhere
I am lost
Where is my check?
Where is my ploy?
Where is that new?

Written for Poetry Magazine 2011