Tag Archives: life



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Categories: Poems, Tags: , , , , ,

No help provided, the sick things uninvited,

the way to save my mother or call upon my brother.

Panic attack at 4 AM, and I can no longer feel who I am.

Clouds rush in like demons to laugh, and exhaustion is the aftermath.

Here is your past, take it at will, and be condemned for taking a pill- that stops the thoughts from racing so long, as you stand there and smoke in your bra & thong.

Can’t leave the house, someone might hurt you- after all your own dad did desert you.

Be afraid of the will of the doubt- strangle it all and muffle your shout.

You’re not worth saving- and not many care- so go to sleep and cuddle the air.

Dead is dead and this life is a race- for the fastest car or the prettiest face.

A joke to be told and Jesus weeps- that he actually hung on the cross for us creeps.

What good is art without an eye, what good are these lines when you sit there and die…

~Heather Lenz



Goodbye Soldiers

Categories: Poems, Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

At the wire

Plastic army men, gray, blue, green
Lined up in the living room for years.

When his father wondered
At the lack of my complaint over the mess,
I said: “Because one day I know I’ll miss it.”

That day has come & gone.
I imagine the little boy next door,

who my son gave up his collection to,
Lining them up along windowsills & on top
of old shoe-boxes.

One time, years ago, I designed an army fort for my son
out of an old shoe-box. Drew carefully the camouflage
to protect his childhood, to construct smiles.

I made windows
& gun racks & even a helipad on top,
meant for plastic emergencies.

His eyes lit up like sunshine
Reflecting off dark waves & he said:
“Thank you, mama. That’s really cool!”

I must say, it was one of my finer

accomplishments in life-

& now as the years turn & frown with their
Sad mistakes & losses, at least I can recall

Through some certain, tender, beautiful years,
I gave those soldiers a home. Or tried.

~Heather Lenz
May 31, 2013



Categories: Poems, Tags: , , , ,


What's it all about......351/365

Always guessing at the wings of birds.
Mediocre existence- Piled-up, dropped down,
Splayed as if feelings can be neutered.

Give me the passage to God- no more
bowing to men, to end up in the gutter.

All those young whores in spandex,
Needle-hurt by life, all the praises toward
False gods of commerce.

Let us swirl in the paint & drown,
Cry for lovers lost, wounds open, seeping

like light at the corners of our eyes
That fade with dissipated dreams

Gone bereft-
Tired of everything.

~Heather Lenz


Dismissing Spring

Categories: Poems, Tags: , , , ,

274/365 - Storm's Brewing

These days, not much to be heard
But sighing. Paint dries in tubes, the blank

canvas quickens with dust. Does not even echo
a name, or ask for light to dance.

Here is a handful of weariness-
I can’t even find a moment
to plan its demise.

Too much reality, too
out of focus to even cry.

And who gives a damn
how many sunsets burn my

Or stone-death frail trembling
arms. Neruda is dead and smoke is

around my head,

Broken halo.

~Heather Lenz



Categories: Poems, Tags: , , ,

TEXTURE Original handwritten Italian letter on genuine aged paper-1778

Envelopes in boxes, another day of rain. Lead me
to the place where there is a door called Home, something
like a cure for words that rise like giant shadows
when the heart is alone.

It’s been years since I read any letters,
since pages, yellowing, trembled in the folds
of my hands. So many are gone now, either
by breath or estrangement

I keep them like someone who does not
toss the flowers from the vase until the last
blue petal falls, till the fragrance becomes

I don’t want to forget the fires, the lost
forevers, the shadows where dreams filtered
into dust. But yet I do want to forget more
often these days. Offer food to birds that

fly away and leave no gift except the
echo of their song. Maybe that is why this
box is mostly closed, like so many layers of
time. Hurry up. Open the door.

~Heather Lenz

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