Washing Poems

Real

I only feel real 
   When I'm downing glasses full of depression
    And regret comes around every now and then
     banging on the door
      real turns its head 
  When rivers on my skin run too deep
   

FBI BRAIN WASHING MEMORY DELETION TRAUMATIC BRAIN INJURY SUBJECTS

MY HUSBAND AND I BOTH SUFFERED TRAUMATIC BRAIN INJURY MY BRAIN WAS CRUSHED MY EYE DOCKET AND NASAL ARCH CRUSHED BROKEN BONE FRAGMENTS BITING MY BRAIN I UNDER WENT EXTREME HYPNOSIS THERAPY WEARING WIRES PREGNANT FOR THE FBI THE ARSON MURDERS OF 9 PERSONS ABDUCTED TAKEN TO THE AMERICANA INN 2AM CITY OFFICIALS TOYING WITH

Donning rubber gloves, the wife does washing of clothes and dishes

Donning rubber gloves, the wife does washing of clothes and dishes...
(plus cutlery, pots pans, et cetera) in the kitchenette sink.

She started what would immediately become 
a first and last generation tradition
(the spouse as washer woman
and scullery maid)
soon after we moved here
eight years ago come July 1st, 2025.

I trumpet her pioneer spirit
to apply elbow grease
(to tackle

Donning rubber gloves, the wife does washing of clothes and dishes

Donning rubber gloves, the wife does washing of clothes and dishes...
(plus cutlery, pots pans, et cetera) in the kitchenette sink.

She started what would immediately become 
a first and last generation tradition
(the spouse as washer woman
and scullery maid)
soon after we moved here
eight years ago come July 1st, 2025.

I trumpet her pioneer spirit
to apply elbow grease
(to tackle

Washing and Drying Up

Each night after the evening meal
there was never a discussion
as to who would wash the dishes
and who would do the drying up.
My mother was the washer,
my sister and I did the drying up.

Hot steam would rise from the sink 
before plates were plunged
deep in foam and scrubbed
with a brush - we would wait,
tea towel in

Random Thoughts 1: Face wash

I wash my face twice a day
Once vigorously
As if I am exercising demons
Residing in my pores
And once gently
In circular, sweeping movements
Like I am washing away the crust of tears
That have come to settle on my cheeks

Under My Washing Line

I used to live at the foot of a lush, green hill
whose high pastures fed dairy herds.

When I stood under the washing line
in my cottage garden and looked up,
it appeared that the cattle
were grazing on my roof.

It was then I realized
perception
was a broken fragment in the eye of reality,
God’s little trick

to be understood
in the soft

Rain

the rain will pour relentlessly
washing away the sins of day
waves roll down my street
echoing triumph of the new world
cold air and back-splash reaches me
reminders that i am not as exception to this washing

Cat Bath Hiku

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Brain Washing Machine

Years ago, no one had new knees said Dad
They had to make do with the ones they had
Women ran around with wrinkles and gray hair
Plastic surgeons and hair dye did not exist anywhere

I see a brain washing machine down the road
They will open your skull with a saw-blade gold
Take your brain out and cleanse it

Washing Over Me

Grief still has a way of washing over me,
Taking me by surprise—
A reminder of a mother’s deep love.
A year since you’ve been gone,
Every single day is hard.
Today was a tender, emotional day,
But tonight, the tears have no end.

I sat on your bench under the full, bright moon,
Wrapped in a soft blanket to fight the cold

Washing Before Meals

Can you see the Pharisee washing his hands, full of pride?
Hasn't he, in his show-off, kept his honesty aside?
The one who called you for meals had his agenda in mind.
To prove you are wrong, in you some faults he wanted to find

With the cleansing of dishes, you asked, Do you peep within?
More than the dust

Washing

Washing

Washing your hair with 
little stones cures 
back aches.

I Look at Trees

I
I look at trees and think about their births. 
I can say to myself by looking at a leaf, 
“You are an oak,”
or, “You are a Chinese pistache.”  
For this I feel proud, 
And this quirk is one that gives me a sense of joy, 
And the trees appreciate this; they listen.  

II

Washing My Face

One day I will
Float up to Ziz
Its wings wisp
Soft like stray
Hairs in the sink
Hypnotize sunken
Whirlpool eyes
Until then I
Guess I choose
Sleep tonight
‘Til the day
Where true rest
Seems more than
Just alright

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