Well, shit...

My sister got notified Saturday by her insurance company
that she has to leave the rehab facility on Monday or start
paying out of pocket.
We have two days to get organized to bring her home.

this is not a poem...

huh.
maybe this is
a poem
after all.

Say it...

there is something you
want to say but the words are
stuck in the shadows.

  

come home.

"you are full of yourself..."

 ...who else would I be full of?

 

voice in my head...

sometimes
when I think
I should
be sleeping
and it's dark and quiet
that's when thoughts
come to visit.
They repeat themselves.
repeat and repeat
until I get up
and write what
they have to say.
it can take a while,
like tonight, but
they won't stop
until they're
damn well ready
and if I'm patient
and a bit lucky
I end up with a 
nice little piece
of something-
like this.