Depression Imagination

A distressing
consequence of my depression
is reduction of everything
to only literal. I see a dahlia
and express nice flower.
Still able to name things,
I say that’s a dahlia,
but nothing more. No starshine,
no tiny village, no lover’s lips
in its showy display.
Observing the short space
between laughing until tears
and the sullen walk home,
I am unable to describe it.
Only when close behind
a port-a-john sloppily
lashed to a pickup truck
do metaphors come in a rush.
With a holy shit
I visualize a vast array
of what could possibly go wrong
but no answers

Late! But whatever. Sharing in the Imaginary Garden for Sanaa’s first Tuesday Platform


That Nagging Sensation

It started with my shirts,
then the cat, photos,
words on paper, one by one,
a slow transformation
barely noticed

Everything monochrome
with rounded edges,
like Keanu Reeves,
completely lacking affect

After an indoor summer
already leaves turn red,
soon will be ash,
& I’m living with ghosts
of people who are still alive

Always a child crying
in our neighborhood,
wails wafted on muslin curtains
otherwise peaceful
in the breeze

What happens to voices
when windows close against cold
with insufficient sun
to hedge
against whispering

Sharing on the Tuesday Platform in the Imaginary Garden today