missing the poetry fix

Hello, darlings.

It's now May and I'm going to confess that I miss the ability to center myself every day with a poetry exercise.  (Did you know, however, that if you post a poem to your blog you can't submit it to a poetry journal for potential publication? Nope. See, self publication counts. Oh well.)

Yesterday, instead of writing a poem, I did a guided meditation in my office to "rededicate myself to lovingkindness."  Oh, snap -- new age strikes. Instead of being loving and kind, however, as the soothing Irish voiced man suggested, I soured by mid-day and by the end of the day, when I arrived into Dave's space, I was the same old rant bag as usual.

I've got about 10 minutes before I have to head into an action packed day. My Google calendar is a solid blob from 10-3:30 or so, with a small break before a dinner gig. All of this celebrating is making my waist thick and the numbers on the scale rise. I couldn't zip my jeans yesterday. Blargh.

Maybe I'll write a poem a week now. How's that sound?

Today's challenge:  What does your shadow do while you're sleeping?

*

While I'm Sleeping

My shadow stretches out
to fill me,
leaking

into my fingers and toes,
erasing
my wrinkles,

returning me to a dewy
youth.
It's a heavy liquid

that defies gravity,
lifting me
like dream ether

into strange heights
where flickering images
mix

past and present,
hinting at the future
(black mirrors

hold a world
of bending shadows
that touch me

with chilly
fingertips)
when I will be

all shadow
all
the time.