Ah... nothing more enjoyable
than acidic gastric fluid (bile)
flowing backward into esophagus,
resulting in heartburn, meanwhile
disrupting pleasant dreams,
which phenomena also known as
gastroesophageal reflux (GER)
found me discombobulated
and swiftly tailored into harried style.

Dear Heart, you bear a silent ache,
A background throb that will not break
The dam that quells your flood of tears
From pains built over years and years
Dear heart, what pain will loose the flood
Of salty torrents, hot as blood
Form deeper wounds than hearts can stand?
Dear heart, you do not understand
That tho the pain may be released
And floods cause momentary peace
This does not mean the pain will cease.
You must dive in and brace the storm
To find the source of all your harm

consumed later at night than usual
finds me bright eyed and bushy tailed
amply lively to learn
about an American radio
and television personality and pioneer
Wee Willy Weber,
who prominently and popularly reigned
across air waves and small screen
kept in the living/family room
then an obscure square box
frequently exhibiting local entertainers

Endings
Written by Kelly Ann Wilson

Endings
Written by Kelly Ann Wilson

I was the kid who never read the last chapter
Of my favourite books
Or watched the final episode
Of my favourite shows.

I wanted to stay in a time and place
Where there was still more to the story.
I never wanted them to end.

I could never accept
That life is full of endings,
So, I grew up
With the consequences of that.

I stay in the same place too long.
I hold onto people for too long.

Our little fella, with his prancing gait,
trots down the hall. His feet sounding
a slap, slap, slap on the carpet
he was chewing on a moment ago.

He looks up at me with all the cuteness
the universe could possibly bestow on him
with a brief and curious look – ears at attention!

I keep replaying
Your words in my head

"Don't go,
I'm begging you,
Please stay..."

The broken record torments me
Day and night

I didn't know
It would end like this

I didn't know
How bad it would hurt

I would've stayed up
All night with you
If only I'd known...

Now here I am,
Sitting at your grave
With your voice
Whispering to me
"Please stay..."

The Corps of Discovery was born
The year was eighteen zero four,
To find a way to Pacific waters
From St. Lewis they would explore.

The famed expedition to map the West
Led by Lewis and companion Clark,
New discoveries were vast and plenty
Each mapped a unique historic mark.

A Shoshoni girl helped guide them
Through tribal lands of sage and pine,
In Montana they looked in wonder
At three waters they would define.

Alternately titled: 111th leap year since 1582
the year Pope Gregory XIII world leader
(i.e. essentially paterfamilias among
Roman Catholic flock)
timely maneuvered around calendrical rock
and hard space implementing
viable system tracking years ad hoc
out of sync and lock
step by one day
with astronomical calendar,

Fore score minus xv orbitz ago
from being centenarian
strong contractions forced me
to pass thru cervix,
buck naked bare lady,
I ranked as only grandson sharing
same surname as Aaron,
(mine paternal grandfather)
me the sole heir –
foreshortened to Sol Aire

I show her the poem
with the noisy words
building to a crescendo.

My scribbled paean, foolishly trying
to say these things to her
better than they’ve been said
by others, in ink on paper.

“Maybe I should tone all of this down some?”, I propose.

She smiles and says, “I like the clamor just the way it is.”