Oh, the holidays.

Okay, okay. OKAY.

I admit it. I have not worked on my writing every single day lately.

In fairness, I've had a shitload of other things to do for the holidays, and am insanely busy both at work and trying to get ready for family to come visit. I managed to put in a little time during a couple days, but not even according to my regular routine, so everything feels off.

However, I am still deadline-sensitive, and I think I'm pretty close to having the order of the manuscript done. I'm also printing about a dozen of what I hope are the final versions of these poems.

So, for today's poem, I'm putting up one that's just gotten what may be its final revision.

eating my words

sometimes it is not the words spoken at all
ears deaf as a pond prick unbidden
sensing quiet orchards of meaning,
stretchings of silence thick as tangerines,
sweet as clementines, bitter as oranges.

our lips stretch over our teeth as we eat
our emotions raw, choking, slurping the juices
from grimy palms. cracked nails hunt down
escaping pulp, trapped between our teeth,
to be rolled by tongue-tip and swallowed
unconsciously, as one savors recent joy.

letting the loose ends go, calming the spaces
in between, framing with hardly trembling
fingers that which leaps: boxing the silence;
its soft corners rounding my gut, fleshing
the bones of my mind peach-soft, blooming.
the words hang as branches, shaking the air,
as what you mean
drops from what you say, silence ripe and red : : :