Wrenches

Posted on September 22 2019 by J.W. Richmond

It shouldn’t be this hard.

I know life can throw
     wrenches
       junk
              crap
           turns
         t
          w
       i
          s
         t
           s
                at all of us
           but it makes no sense
                why this should be
                      so excruciating
                      so difficult
                      so maddening.

Yet why do I
     keep expecting
         things to be different?

I fall for it
   every
   time,
     hoping that someday
           things will work out
              the way they should.

Instead
     I am disappointed
           frustrated
           angry –
                again.

Evidently,
   I should stop hoping.

Months
      years
            decades
                    don’t change the outcome.

Time
   and technology
          still
      can’t make printers
                      print.

Camping

Posted on August 31 2019 by J.W. Richmond

The reservation was made. The car was overpacked (my fault, because being prepared is way less stress than not having what we need), and we were ready to go.

It was the first night Jeff and I had alone together out of town in months.

Not knowing exactly what to expect, since we had never been to that campground before – and Google tried to throw us off a bit with the directions – we were not disappointed with the campsite. It wasn’t crowded, and it was quiet, which is exactly what we needed. The air was clean. The canopy went up easily. The space for the tent was mostly flat and the ground beneath it was smooth. 

Jeff went to start the fire, and I started setting up the sleeping situation inside the tent. I spread out the self-inflating air mattresses and let them do their thing while I zipped the sleeping bags together.

Then I checked on the mattresses. They both had inflated, so I went to tighten the first valve – which was broken, so it wouldn’t close and air could still escape.

Awesome. Because that is the entire point of an air mattress.

Then I checked the second mattress, and that valve was broken too.

Clearly, they were a solid investment.

“So the good news is we have air mattresses, since we finally bought them last year,” I told Jeff. “The bad news is both of the valves are broken so they are pretty much useless.” I mean, without the air, what are air mattresses other than small tarps?

The hard ground and lack of sleep that night was not great. But the cooler temperatures, time away with Jeff, and talking by the campfire while roasting marshmallows made up for it. And that we hadn’t been able to book a second night turned out to be a good thing.

That’s camping.

Something always goes wrong, but it’s worth it anyway.

17

Posted on July 27 2019 by J.W. Richmond

A throwback to when Jeff and I were dating, as we celebrate 17 years of marriage today.

The Words

You know me
all too     all well
you know     when
I hide because
you listen      to the
silences          between
you read my face
when I force it to
say nothing     pursue
me when I or
when I almost     run
you worry when I
don't call or if I am
late and I know    even 
if you do not 
say it     because
you show me
and you do not
give up on me     so I
know     and I do too

2001

Murky

Posted on June 30 2019 by J.W. Richmond

Free?
Free?

Suspended
             between
                    d
                    i
                    v
                    i
                    n
                    g
                        in
                and the overall catharsis
                    of              finally                   letting  go,
           unsure which way to   lean
                 because I’ve already done
                            both
                         (I think).

                  Either way I choose now,
                       it feels like
                       it could be 
             backwards.

I can’t place it,
   but something doesn’t seem quite
                     done –
              at least not entirely.

But maybe I also don’t need to
                                        (re)surface
                            old ghosts
                                   if they are meant to remain
                                       buried

                                         far

 

 

                                         far

 

                                         below.

Sometimes  b u rro w ing
                 in the past
       only digs up      remnants
            of what was always
                           supposed to be
                                              released
                                                       to move      forward.

There is
   no way to stop
               an impending storm.
There is also
   no reason to dig up
               decayed degradation,
               a rotted coffin
                       again
                         and
                       again.

It’s a murky place to be.

Hygienist

Posted on May 31 2019 by J.W. Richmond

Recently I went to the dentist.
While the hygienist
   was examining
   and counting
   and poking
   and scraping
   and cleaning,
     she also gave me a haircut,
         since apparently that was part of the procedure.

She never asked
   how I wanted my hair.
And she cut bangs.
Short ones.

I never had a chance
   to tell her what I wanted –
     numbness
        and fingers
        and metal tools
          in my mouth
             so I couldn’t speak.

But she was skilled
   and crafty
   and evidently handsy
     to do all that
        at once.

I kind of
   admired her for that.

And then I woke up.

Scrambly

Posted on April 28 2019 by J.W. Richmond

Tuesdays
Tuesdays

How could he explain
   the inconceivable
        iridescent
            pieces
    of impossible
            attempting to escape
                from within his brain?

They were small
                surly
                sc r a m  b  ly
                shimmery
                swirly
                whimsical
                fantastical
                fanatical
                illogical
          and clearly didn’t know
              where they were meant
                      to remain.

(Un)Knowns

Posted on March 31 2019 by J.W. Richmond

How do you/I not
     be concerned with
        possibilities
        questions
     think through
        as much as possible
           that might happen?

Knowing, of course,
     you can never know
                 everything,
   how do you
     prepare for the future
                for various scenarios
                for likely possibilities
        if you’re ignoring
            what’s impending
               or
            what could be
               directly in front of you shortly?

Knowns linger
                      hang
                            cling
           while unknowns
                            CLANG
                            BANG
                            CRASH
                       into everything,
                          causing further damage
                                      every second
                                they aren’t contained
                                                     or
                                                sought after.

Incongruous

Posted on February 24 2019 by J.W. Richmond

Many Faces
Many Faces

This persistent
     nagging feeling
        that I cannot explain
                       or fully understand
            is maddening –
        an intangible sense
            with no way to know
                   if I’m accurate
                          or not
                              (yet)
            with no empirical evidence
                   or specific details
                          to point to,
        only a deep distress
            inside
                   that something
                          isn’t
                              right.
I acknowledge
     I could be incorrect,
        but somewhere
                        in the shadows
             there is a disconnect.
                Something
                     incongruous
                        exists
                  even if I cannot identify it.
I don’t know
     what it is;
I just know
     something
          is wrong.

Ponder

Posted on January 26 2019 by J.W. Richmond

My life always feels
          rushed
   and pushed
          packed
   and crammed
                   and overwhelming.

I never feel like
   I can catch up
               enough
        to check off the list
        or step back
               to evaluate
        or take some time
               to be
               to think
               to ponder
        and slow down enough
               to wander
                     and
                   wonder
                    why certain words rhyme
                        when they shouldn’t
                              and others don’t
                        when they seem like
                                  they would.

There is always
     too much to do
     too much that is required of me
              work to be done
              chores to complete
              errands to run
              people to see
       and books to read
       and too much
              in my head
                that I’m always trying
                      to figure out
                         how to get out.

And ‘tis the season
      of much
            and
          more
            and
          overdoing
                   beyond excess.

But it never stops
                 finishes
                 concludes
     even when the season goes
             or returns
             or leaves again.

Insanity

Posted on December 29 2018 by J.W. Richmond

Away in a Manger
Away in a Manger

The biblical account
   of the birth of Jesus
     is horrifying!

Angels appear from nowhere
   and speak to people
   and tell them
     not to be afraid (Luke 1:26-30, Luke 2:9-10, 13-14).
Sure, no fear here.

There are several occurrences
   of dream angels
        and
      dream warnings (Matthew 1:20; Matthew 2:12, 13, 19, 22; Luke 2:28).
Not spooky at all.

There is a virgin mother (Matthew 1:23; Luke 1:31-35),
               <insert confused face>
     which is nonsensical
           and defies logic
                   and science
   and her more than boyfriend/
            not quite fiance/
            betrothed/
            pledged/
            husband (Matthew 1:18-19, Luke 2:5) –
            whatever the term for this complicated relationship
               would be in this century –
                    who is ready to bolt
                       and leave her
                         to raise this unborn mystery baby alone (Matthew 1:19).
 
There is a star
   that moves across the sky
     and then hovers over this child
                  and His family (Matthew 2:9).
Science questions again…

There is a horribly wicked king –
                  and no words awful enough to describe him –
     who plots to kill this baby
            after He is born (Matthew 2:13)
         then decrees infanticide throughout the region,
            ordering the deaths of countless baby boys
               in hopes that he gets lucky
                  and the particular boy he wants dead
                            will happen to be one of them (Matthew 2:16).
Seriously, even the vilest words
   are too trivial for him.

And there is a young family
   who flees for their safety
     in the middle of the night
        and moves to another country
            to escape from said king (Matthew 2:14-15).

The details of the birth of Jesus
   are crazy
      and terrifying
      and nothing like
               the beautiful pictures
           or the Christmas carols
           or cute ornaments
           or nativity scenes.
Yet this is how the Savior
   entered the world.
What insanity!
What a farfetched story.
No one would ever believe it
     if it weren’t true.