“Luctus Herbarium”
2020-10-18
Written 26 August 2018 in Payne County, Oklahoma.
Brian Fuchs, “Luctus Herbarium” from Scissor-tailed Flycatcher (Scissortail Press, 2020)
“The Ravens Became Crows”
2020-09-14
Written 7 September 2019 in Payne County, Oklahoma.
Brian Fuchs, “The Ravens Became Crows” from Okie Dokie (Scissortail Press, 2019)
Posted 14 September 2020
“Mambo Italiano”
2020-09-06
This is how this poem appears in the book Okie Dokie. I’m considering rewriting it, or maybe I’ll just write something new to express these thoughts. We’ll see.
Written 22 August 2008 in Anchorage, Alaska & 8 September 2019 in Payne County, Oklahoma.
Brian Fuchs, “Mambo Italiano” from Okie Dokie (Scissortail Press, 2019)
Posted 6 September 2020
“Making Circles in Darkness”
2020-07-15
Written 7 February 2020 in Payne County, Oklahoma.
Brian Fuchs, “Making Circles in Darkness” from Scissor-tailed Flycatcher (Scissortail Press, 2020)
“The Rain”
2019-09-05
The Rain
I’m still waiting outside for rain,
hoping for sudden downpours from cloudless skies.
I’m wondering if she’ll join me when the first drops
start to fall and the birds fall silent.
She’s been delayed, I’ve told myself again,
or the rain hasn’t been enough.
It has never been enough
I’ve summoned more and more rain,
for over a year I’ve coaxed it from the air,
the ground sometimes swelling, saturated and marshy.
Brush Creek has filled to overflowing,
washing out parts of the road and clearing out
the debris of our distractions.
It has not been enough.
The Cimarron & Arkansas Rivers have been flooded,
swallowing homes and memories,
lives lost and inconvenienced.
Still she has not arrived.
I continue my incantations, calling for more clouds,
more rain — great hurricanes that try to find me,
creeping along the coasts, tied to the oceans.
Florida, Georgia, Louisiana, The Bahamas, Puerto Rico,
they may all need to be sacrificed in my efforts,
and it will be worth the loss because I will
no longer feel like I am alone.
I am listening for those first signs, the drips on the tin roof
and I am ready to throw open the windows,
clench my fists, and try to push my dreams into reality.
I know she will join me if I keep trying,
and we will sit together on the covered porch,
resuming what should still be.
Written 5 September 2019 in Payne County, Oklahoma.
Brian Fuchs, “The Rain” from Okie Dokie (Scissortail Press, 2019)
“Cercis canadensis”
2019-04-19
Cercis canadensis
When we had tried
putting ourselves together again
we’d used the wrong parts,
made effigies of ourselves
with the piles of distorted junk,
left behind scraps of a once-full life.
We went through the motions of people
spoke like them, practicing their accents,
but did not understand our own words.
We got the phrases wrong,
the tones, the memories.
Periodically, we’d erupt into full color
flowers growing from every part
and our days seemed alive with joy.
But we would catch ourselves lost in time,
eyes fixed on a long-abandoned walker,
a long-absent bed,
a long-neglected garden,
at the things we find so important now
and the flowers would fall from our bodies.
I gave up on trying to find the parts
of myself I missed most,
stopped looking for who I had been before. I’ve been more comfortable with discomfort,
waiting for others to finally leave the safety
of their beds, the safety of their tears.
And we’ve started to share ourselves again,
imagining Spring, redbuds flushed fuchsia,
grief removed from our shoulders,
sadness washed from our faces
by the showers of April and storms of May.
We will remember how to be happy
and how to be sad and how to be,
and we’ll see the long-forgotten remnants
and we will understand who we are.
Written 19 April 2019 in Payne County, Oklahoma. Rewritten 5 September 2019 in Payne County, Oklahoma.
Brian Fuchs, “Cercis canadensis” from Okie Dokie (Scissortail Press, 2019)
Cercis canadensis
When we had tried
putting ourselves together again
we’d used the wrong parts,
made effigies of ourselves
with the piles of distorted junk,
left behind scraps of a once-full life.
We went through the motions of people
spoke like them, practicing their accents,
but did not understand our own words.
We got the phrases wrong,
the tones, the memories.
Periodically, we’d erupt into full color
flowers growing from every part
and our days seemed alive with joy.
But we would catch ourselves lost in time,
eyes fixed on a long-abandoned walker,
a long-absent bed,
a long-neglected garden,
at the things we find so important now
and the flowers would fall from our bodies.
I gave up on trying to find the parts
of myself I missed most,
stopped looking for who I had been before.
I’ve been more comfortable with discomfort,
waiting for others to finally leave the safety
of their beds, the safety of their tears.
And we’ve started to share ourselves again,
imagining Spring, redbuds flushed fuchsia,
grief removed from our shoulders,
sadness washed from our faces
by the showers of April and storms of May.
We will remember how to be happy
and how to be sad and how to be,
and we’ll see the long-forgotten remnants
and we will understand who we are.
11-17 June 2018
2018-06-17
It’s been another week when I’ve felt like I am moving slowly and the rest of the world is rushing around me. I find myself increasingly thinking to myself that I want to show Mom a video or picture or craft project. It’s frustrating.
I planted 3 crapemyrtles. I’m really working toward my gardening plan that I’ve been working on since last year. Tomorrow is two weeks since I planted all the roses out here. 9 of 11 have growth on them already and the two that don’t look alive still, one more than the other. I did also plant 6 rosa rugosas, but those don’t have growth on them. I’m keeping my fingers crossed and not putting too much pressure on it all. I also found some Virginia Creeper growing up the back of the house, which is great. I want it there so I hope it makes it. Oh, the lawn mower finally was returned after being repaired. So, I mowed. It had been so long that the lawn is having a hard time recovering, but it will in time. Hopefully we can get some rain soon. That will help.
I’ve been much more interested in being alone this week. I think everyone has really. That said, things seem less… desperate? I don’t know how to articulate, but I know there are many people who instantly know what I’m talking about.
Art Featured This Week:
28 May – 3 June 2018
2018-06-03
This has been a trying week. I’ve really felt like I’ve been stuck in slow motion while everything speeds by around me. I’m tired; I’ve spent the majority of time in bed this week. I’m not ready for real life, but it keeps popping up because it doesn’t seem to care if I’m ready or not. Mom wanted me to be successful. I think she believed I could be even more than I did, so when I have been awake this week I’ve been charging ahead with my blog and social media. I have a lot of plans for the blog, for my work, and for my home. I don’t want to stop planning my life, even if I do find everything rather pointless right now.
I hope this upcoming week is a little better. I have some projects that should prove therapeutic, and should I get to them I will discuss it in next week’s review. I’m trying to not put too much pressure on myself, so I easily could have another week of sleeping. This is hard. It’s actually much harder than I expected, and I expected it to be rough. I need time. I need a lot of time, and I hope I don’t bore anyone by taking my time.
Posts this week:
This week saw the revival of the Oklahoma Family Tumblr started by Brent 5 years ago. Check it out!
Check out my Instagram posts as well.
Mom, Thoughts On My Favorite Human
2018-05-31
A few weeks ago, I was listening to music after spending the night helping my mom in and out of bed as she recovered from a collapsed lung. I hadn’t left her house yet, and she came into the living room to join me. We didn’t talk; we just sat and listened to the music as the sun came up over the trees and filled the living room with light. It was a peaceful moment. We talked briefly after a while, and then I went home to sleep before coming back the next night. She stayed in the living room for the morning, watching TV and visiting with my dad. If I had known then that it was the last time I would spend time with her in her living room, I would have stayed all day.
My days are like that right now. Everything is about Mom. The roses she and I ordered came in yesterday, a week and a half after she passed. On her desk sit the art project she was working on, four 6×6 canvases featuring her with her grandkids. On her doors hang the wreaths she had ordered for summer; they arrived the week she went to the ER, one being only taken out of its box when we were getting the house ready for visitors. I’ve caught family members talking about the pain she was in, which she was. I’ve heard them hint at how she seemed to have lost some of her spirit, which she had. But I don’t want anyone to think for a moment that she had ever given up on living. Nobody loved life more than she did.
Mom’s life had become about pain and struggling through the many surgeries she had over the past ten years. I’ve lost count; she had lost count. But never did a surgery keep her down. She fought through it because she did not want to be an ‘old person’ and never meant to end up spending so much of her life in bed recovering. These recoveries were temporary, and she spent her time either getting ready to fight after a surgery or working on getting back to her life. Being stuck in bed made her feel left out at times, and it was frustrating for her to not be able to join her sister, friends, and other family on various outings and vacations. She wished she could go to church every Sunday, as her church family was so much a part of who she had always been. She wanted to be healthy enough to stay with her granddaughters more often, but did not have the ability lately. But most people didn’t know any of these feelings. Mom did not complain about her plight to people. She didn’t want others to ever feel bad for enjoying their own lives, even if she couldn’t be a part of it.
ER visits had become so routine, so when she was rushed to the hospital on May 18 it didn’t even phase me. I thought to myself that I hoped she stayed through the weekend; the stays in the hospital were often good for her and gave me peace of mind that someone was checking her out. I also felt relieved that I would get a little extra sleep over the weekend. Then they called me from the hospital to say she was being transferred to Oklahoma City. Dad didn’t seem to remember what the doctors had told him, and Mom and I shouted at one another through his speaker. She told me it was her colon and they needed to do surgery. I have no idea what I said to her, but it was definitely not the right thing. There is no way it could have been. It was the last time we would talk to one another. How could I have known, and what words would we have used. She was aware the next day as she slipped from up, and could nod/shake her head. I was able to talk to her then, but it wasn’t a conversation.
This doesn’t feel real. I’ve passed the part when I think I might finally wake up, but now I keep thinking she will come home from a trip she’s been on. But at the same time, I’m empty. My whole world has been consumed by this growing emptiness, and mostly life seems pointless. It’s raw of course, but it is hard to see what meaning I’ll be able to find in life.
I’m babbling.
I’ve been spending a lot of time on my front porch, listening to birds in the morning and watching fireflies in the evenings. The birds don’t seem to know that the color has gone from the world. The fireflies still light up the night, even though life is so fleeting. I’m not sure what to think about it all, or even if I’m thinking about anything at all. Every time I start slipping into despair, it starts to rain and I can’t help but find joy in storms. Joy seems inappropriate. I have moments when I laugh or smile and think to myself that I’m being disrespectful. That’s such a backward thought. Mom loved life, saw the good it it always, and wouldn’t want anyone to despair.
This was not a part of my plan. I never imagined I would lose my mom in my 30s; it feels stupid. I was ready to watch movies with her, to laugh with her, and to enjoy the nature around us with her well into my 60s. I deserved that. She deserved that. And now I have to figure out what I’m going to do with my life.
Mom’s final moments were spent surrounded by family. She understood what was happening, and knew she was not going to make it. It was so sudden, so the fact that everyone could get there was a miracle. We cried, we sang songs, we prayed. The room was so filled with love and life, I cannot think of a more fitting situation for her to passing. We were singing I Can Only Imagine though our tears when the nurse came in and nodded her head. I felt like I had been shot in the stomach and we continued on. Brent and Dad were each holding her hands and they felt her relax and slip away. Sobbing followed, and family trickled out to the waiting room. I sat in the chair in the corner of the room and wanted to stay there forever. Once everything had been gathered, my brother and I finally left the room, leaving her by herself. It made me numb. It’s typically not fair to a person to remember that person for one day in their life. People tend to dwell on a person’s death and not on their life. I’m sure I’ll do that for a while, but if I’m going to have to focus on her last day, I will at least have those beautiful final moments to focus on.
It’s true: Mom won’t be in pain anymore. She didn’t want to give up on life, but she doesn’t have to fight through so much pain. That’s going to comfort me one day, but today is not that day.
This weekend, my nephew Conner and I will plant the roses Mom and I had picked out. And I’ll makes sure they are planted where she wanted them. And I will just try my best to get from one day to the next. I’m going to be sad for a long time, but there are things to be done.
LaDonna Marie Fuchs
2018-05-22
LaDonna Marie 
Fuchs
On May 19, 2018, LaDonna Marie Fuchs finished her work here on Earth. She had done what she needed to do, and in spite of protests by her loved ones, it was time for her to accept her reward and move on to the next life.
LaDonna was born October 18, 1953 in Champaign, Illinois to Billy & Christine Tucker. She grew up in Stillwater, Oklahoma with her sister Ann and brother Stan. She graduated from Stillwater High School in 1971 and received her Bachelors degree in Early Childhood Education from Oklahoma State University. She was a member of the Stillwater Church of Christ. It was there that she added chosen family members Dale & Mary Combs, whose children David and Mark would be added to LaDonna’s life as brothers.
LaDonna fell in love with Curtis Fuchs in 1977, and the two of them married August 20 of that year. They had three children: Brent in 1978, Brian in 1979, and Bradley in 1981. Each of them can confirm that LaDonna was the best mom anyone could have. Her incredible love of life, of God, and of children made for a warm and happy home, which they made in Stillwater.
LaDonna’s love of children eventually became too much for just her own, and she and Curtis started Rainbow Preschool at Stillwater Church of Christ in 1982. It was open until 2007. There, LaDonna showed her incredible skills at teaching and guiding children.
In 2001, LaDonna started her role as Nana, a position that filled her heart with more joy than she knew she could have. Conner, KC, Jason, and Avery made her life even more beautiful, and she thanked God everyday for allowing her to be their Nana. People, especially children, were her ministry. She even took on the role of second Mom to Justin & Simona, and Nana to Abby because there was no limit to her love. And her home was open to countless people, whose happiness and comfort was her greatest concern.
She was preceded in death by her parents Billy & Christine Tucker of Stillwater, OK; niece Rechelle Bystedt of Anchorage, AK; as well as close family friends Dale & Mary Combs of Broken Arrow, OK. She is survived by her husband of 41 years, Curtis Fuchs; sons Brent Fuchs of Edmond, OK, Brian Fuchs of Glencoe, OK & Bradley Fuchs of Stillwater, OK; her grandkids Conner, KC, Jason & Avery: sister Ann Wilkinson (Ron) of Tulsa, OK; brother Stan Tucker (Michael McDermott) of Fort Worth, TX; chosen brother David Combs (Lisa) of Broken Arrow, OK; chosen brother Mark Combs (Krista) of San Antonio, TX; sister-in-law Rita Wilson (Jerry) of Anchorage, AK; nieces Rebecca Stone (Luke) of Flower Mound, TX & Annie Tucker (Adam Ampaipitakwong) of Dallas, TX; Denise Rogers (Matt) of Chugiak, AK; nephews Mark Wilkinson of Georgetown, Kentucky; Matt Wilkinson (Cheryl) of Bixby, OK; & Christian “Opie” Tucker (Laura) of Waco, TX; Les Wilson (Kim) of St. Louis, MO; and other family members Emily Combs (and son Levi) of Broken Arrow, OK; Justin Ward of Glencoe, OK; Abby Dye of Perkins, OK; and dog Chip. She also leaves behind countless friends who meant the world to her.
Services will be at Stillwater Church of Christ on Sunday, May 27, 2018, 2:00 p.m. LaDonna will be laid to rest at Sunset Memorial Gardens in Stillwater, OK.
(Obituary written by me. Pictures are from the handout I created for the funeral. The missing page has the obituary printed on it.)
“Armadillo”
2018-04-30
Armadillo
I squish through
henbit and moist soil
under moonlight, slowly
taking the usual path,
intriguing cats who think
they might soon be fed
and startling an armadillo
digging for grubs or worms
in the yard, ensuring that
it will continue being soft
and moist.
She’s a frequent visitor,
nearly at times earning
a name, an honor not
even given to the cats I feed.
The distance increases,
nightly pulling, stretching.
The air is cold and heavy,
the armadillo a distraction
from the fear and frustration
I find myself falling toward.
I’m anxious to see Mom,
the path has turned to gravel
and the house seems further
than it was last night,
when the armadillo was on
the other side of the yard,
making a racket through
last year’s dry leaves
still undisturbed where
they fell, spilling out
around the trunks of trees.
One day, the nights
will be for sleeping
and everyone will be whole.
Written April 2018 in Payne County, Oklahoma.
Brian Fuchs, “Armadillo” from Scissor-tailed Flycatcher (Scissortail Press, 2020)
27 November – 3 December 2017
2017-12-03
This has been a difficult week for me. On the 28th, I lost my kitty Franz who was born in my living room 16 years ago. He has been a part of so many moments in my life. I’m not sure how to express how much he has meant to me, but I can tell you that his absence is very much noticeable. I miss him. I miss him waking me up in the morning, cuddling with me while I watch TV, and greeting me when I walk in the door. I feel guilty that I couldn’t keep him alive, and the whole week has felt like such a blur.
I was 22 when Franz came into my life. I really feel like my adult life has been defined by him. And yes, his mama is still with us. Molly is 6 months older, and she seems to have not really noticed that Franz is gone. And I’m glad to have her — I don’t mean to take away from her impact on my life, but they had such different personalities. Franz was a sweetheart. He was timid and gentle. Molly more or less tolerates me. She is independent and self-determined. And she always gets her way. I’m trying to think of a creative way to memorialize Franz. He deserved to live forever, and I want to keep him a part of my life forever.
Highlights from Tumblr
Top 15 Christmas Songs
2016-12-17
I’ve been listening to a lot of Christmas music, especially in the car. I love it. I look forward to the switch to all every year, and like everyone, I have some favorites I’m excited to hear.
“The inexpressible depth of music, so easy to understand and yet so inexplicable, is due to the fact that it reproduces all the emotions of our innermost being, but entirely without reality and remote from its pain…Music expresses only the quintessence of life and of its events, never these themselves.” ― Oliver Sacks, Musicophilia: Tales of Music and the Brain
So many Christmas songs have an ability to move me in ways that other types of music lack. Maybe that is just because they are played annually and often during the season. Maybe it is just that the holiday season is full of activity, and that gives these songs special meaning. There are a handful of songs that make me think of the smell of the Santa bag we had at our house one year. Another group transports me to my grandparents’ house on a December evening, the tree glowing intensely red.
I’ve made a “Top 15” list here, which was pretty hard. There are so many I love. A week from now, this list could be a completely different one too. At the time of writing this, these are my favorite Christmas songs.
15. Darius Rucker — Hark! the Herald Angels Sing
1739, Darius Rucker recording 2014
This is one of my favorite carols by anyone, and Darius Rucker does a beautiful job. Few songs give me as many Christmasy feelings as this one.
14. Ivy Winters — Elfy Winters Night
2016
This is a brand new song for 2016, and I’m very into it. It’s a fun modern swing sort of thing. It’s the kind of song that makes me think of a speakeasy, but in a theatrical sense… the type of song performed in a movie scene in a 1920s or 1930s bar.
13. Thurl Ravenscroft (uncredited) — You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch
1966
This is one I try to resist loving, but it is just so tied to my Christmas experience that I can’t not love it. It’s been recorded by other artists, but the original from the 1966 special is really the best. Incidentally, the voice actor who sang the song, Thurl Ravenscroft, was not credited for the song, but he’s most well-known as the voice of Tony the Tiger. He did so many other recognizable things as well, and his voice is just so perfect for this song.
https://youtube.com/watch?v=ZgP0aUKlmNw
12. Pentatonix — Mary, Did You Know?
1991, Pentatonix recording 2014
Pentatonix is sometimes criticized, including by me, for being too plastic. There is such a thing as too polished, and they often go a step too far for me. But what they absolutely do right in this song is give it the power it deserves. A friend pointed out that this song is about a revelation that should be delivered with a certain vehemence, something most singers fail to deliver. This version really builds beautifully and the lands softly. It’s really a journey, and I enjoy being taken on it.
11. Gayla Peevey – I Want A Hippopotamus for Christmas
1953
This song is so ridiculous and cute, and for me is less obnoxious than the other Christmas songs by and for kids. It makes this list because it makes me smile every time I hear it.
https://youtube.com/watch?v=2Dec9Jb_Ac4
10. Bing Crosby — Little Drummer Boy
1941, Bing Crosby recording 1962
Little Drummer Boy was my grandpa’s favorite Christmas song. It makes me think of his house as it was in the 1980s at Christmas, music coming from the stereo cabinet in the living room and the tree intensely lit in red lights. It makes me think of red three-wick candles, large ceramic Mr. & Mrs. Santa figures, and boxes of wrapping paper at the ready. It conjures up the smell of brown and serve rolls, the taste of Aunt Chick’s cookies, and the energy of a house well lived in. It is Christmas for me.
https://youtube.com/watch?v=H6Bv6sX370E
9. Megan Mullally — Silent Night
1818, Megan Mullally recording 2001
I love Megan Mullally’s voice. She does a fantastic version of Silent Night here, and seems so unique to her own style in parts. Silent Night is one of the songs I like by most artists, but I sometimes feel like the style doesn’t match the themes of the song. This one does a pretty good job with that. This was included on an album of NBC stars, and at that time Will & Grace was enjoying its greatest success. Megan Mullally went on to release several albums, all amazing and worth looking into.
8. Burl Ives — Holly Jolly Christmas
1962, this Burl Ives recording 1965
What is Christmas without Burl Ives? Sad, that’s what. I really appreciate that Ives recorded this for his Christmas album the year after it appeared on the Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer Soundtrack. That version had been so rushed and I like this slightly slowed one much more. This song, and really any song from Rudolph, makes me feel like a kid in all the right ways.
https://youtube.com/watch?v=DtVxFi9C0RA
7. Scott Matthew — Silent Nights
2008
This original song is sweet, sad, wistful… it’s one of the feelings I can identify with, especially during Christmas. It’s beautiful, and Scott Matthew is the absolute master at making me feel sad and then making feel okay about feeling sad. His songs are usually wrapped in melancholy, but I’m always glad they are.
6. Carpenters — Merry Christmas Darling
1970
All the Christmas feelings. This one is similar to Silent Nights, but far more hopeful. You feel mildly sad that these two won’t be together for Christmas, but are left with little doubt that they will eventually reunite.
5. Mariah Carey – All I Want For Christmas Is You
1994
I got this album when it came out, and I have yet to get enough of this one. It is just as perfect as it ever was. It’s so full of the joy that makes Christmas wonderful, and truly a timeless classic.
<iframe width=”560″ height=”315″ src=”https://www.youtube.com/embed/yXQViqx6GMY” frameborder=”0″ allowfullscreen></iframe>
4. Ella Fitzgerald – Sleigh Ride
1948, Ella Fitzgerald recording 1960
Ella. Need I say more?
3. Dolly Parton — Hard Candy Christmas
1978, Dolly Parton & Movie recording 1982
This might be surprisingly high on my list… maybe? It wasn’t conceived as a Christmas song, but I’m happy to listen to it over and over during December. This song makes me want to drink cocoa and warm up under a blanket with a good book.
Dolly Parton’s Solo Studio Version
Film Version featuring Dolly Parton & the Cast of The Best Little Whorehouse In Texas
2. Wham! — Last Christmas
1984
This one is polarizing. I’ve seen it on as many lists of worst Christmas songs as best Christmas songs. For me it is almost at the top of my favorites. I suppose if you have an aversion to 1980s pop music, you might not care for this, but I love 80s pop. I especially love anything from George Michael, and I’m happy to hear this in every store during the holidays.
1. Trans-Siberian Orchestra — Christmas Eve (Sarajevo 12/24)
1914 (Carol of the Bells), traditional (God Rest You Merry, Gentlemen)m Trans-Siberian Orchestra recording 1996
Carol of the Bells is probably my favorite Christmas carol, and Trans-Siberian Orchestra really takes it to another level here. This song is a great storytelling. It’s very moving.
Honorable Mentions
Here are some other songs I love, but they just didn’t quite get on my list. It’s pretty hard to narrow down to 15; I could probably do a list of 100, and I’d still have to leave things off that I love.
Dean Martin — Let it Snow! Let it Snow! Let it Snow!
Bing Crosby & Ella Fitzgerald — It’s A Marshmallow World
Carnie Wilson & Wendy Wilson — Hey Santa
Trans-Siberian Orchestra — A Mad Russian’s Christmas
Scott Matthew — Blue Christmas
Alaska, Courtney Act & Willam — Dear Santa, Bring Me A Man, 2014
Weather Girls’ — Dear Santa, Bring Me A Man, 1983
Ingrid Lucia — ‘Zat You, Santa Claus?
BC Clark Anniversary Sale Jingle
Megan Mullally sings BC Clark Anniversary Sale Jingle
The Waitresses — Christmas Wrapping
Bing Crosby & David Bowie — Peace on Earth / Little Drummer Boy
“Meeting Skylar & Wesleyan at the Grey Gardens Disco”
2012-12-02
Meeting Skylar & Wesleyan at the Grey Gardens Disco
Secrets feel more like friends than flesh,
written on the tightly rolled scrolls and tied loosely with a scrap of string.
These are the days when life is slipping past so quickly that I cannot seem to find a way back to it, a way to engage. I want to write my own secrets on tiny scrolls, but their contents would drive away even those I’m barely clinging to and they’d slip further into the torrent
away from me.
Time has been cruel, much more than I could have expected.
Mine will be the story that goes untold, unrecorded, unremembered.
Inaction fuels inaction and so I do not move, do not move, do not move. There are lives happening, I’ve been told, beyond the threshold I’m so afraid to cross. The moments I should’ve had hold me back, keep me wondering, force me into the safety of my empty bed
where the quiet loneliness can comfort me.
After the house has filled with leaves and dust and snow,
beyond the carefully orchestrated solitude, celebrations go on without me.
The most beautiful hear the music within themselves, gaily swinging auburn hair and laughing at their own unfunny puns. Merriment and giddiness come on like migraines and I find myself waving a flag and dancing joyously, still unable to coax myself from my home.
Happiness feels so foreign.
Ugliness greets me in every mirror, an old addictive friend
and the voids I’ve created have grown to feel comfortable on my miserable soul.
I’ve failed to learn the steps, and I am terrified that the dance will go on with out me. I look at the hollowness of the collected things around me, dismayed that I’ve become this me. This is the me that will keep happiness in its place
far away.
Nothing excuses knowing about leopard print,
a secret that seems to have allowed me to let go of ill-advised longings.
How incredibly sad it is to not find me so alluring that you can see past my plentiful flaws. I have known for quite some time that if I live my life alone, dying before I know love, that it is not me who is to blame, although I understand the temptation. It is others
who fail to see how happy I would make them.
Could these children have caused my empty world’s destruction?
set in motion events that will cause this tomb around me to collapse.
It’s too soon to know, but I welcome the crumbling. My stacks of nonsense are poised to fall into a blissful abyss. Oh, what exquisite joy I know I will feel when the rooms are all empty and there is just me to fill the space.
And someone to help me fill it, I hope.
Hope, indeed. It is all that keeps me from dropping into the crevasse myself,
cementing my loneliness forever with my inability to change.
I’ve begun to remember who I used to be and have found people who make me hate myself less and less every moment. But not even their patience can be endless, so if I am not to miss out on the Brian I’ve been trying to become again, I need to ask fast
and meet my friends for a drink.
Written 2 December 2012 in Anchorage, Alaska.
Brian Fuchs, “Meeting Skylar & Wesleyan at the Grey Gardens Disco” from Okie Dokie (Scissortail Press, 2019)
Formatting on WordPress ended up looking a little off, but this was as close as I could get it. The first lines of the stanzas shouldn’t be separated, but indenting a line requires making a new paragraph. If I figure out how to change that, I will.
“10th & Cordova”
2008-06-14
10th & Cordova
I’m working on feeling unconventional
in a world of unconventional people.
I’m melding with others,
with those whose lives barely cross mine,
I am again like a loose bit
dangling from a ragged tree branch.
And I feel love. Love.
Quantified love. Finite and sequenced love.
Quantified?
I know I’m last. The love left is different,
the love is coated with a sticky doubt.
Denis is made up in shades of green,
needlessly feeding himself pain, gorging himself on his own thoughts.
His love is ranked, ordered, defined by hierarchy.
Denis uses his love to feel closeness,
and he wraps that love in money. Family.
Quantified? Finite?
David makes diplomatic concessions,
talks in circles and understanding tones, tries to hold together
things that aren’t in danger of slipping away.
He spends his time adding on to the structures, stroking egos,
helping Denis find even brighter green vestments.
I can’t even seem to get attention from myself.
Love? Love. It’s possible.
Expanding, filling the room, I feel uncomfortable
and take up too much space. How can I be ignored?
Sometimes I deflate the elephant and shrink to almost nothing,
transparent.
I shrink into a corner and watch my family below grow ever closer
without me, saddened by my own inability to include myself.
Daniel has come in, found David, taken him down a path I cannot see.
The fields of sweetly scented flowers cover the trail.
There is an increased interest in green.
I try to figure out how to be seen,
how to understand quantified love.
Denis longs to not be green, but I only know about this too late,
after I have purchased green tinted glasses that I wear when I look at him.
David and Daniel playing in the flowers makes me
simultaneously happy and enraged.
Enraged at me, at my ignorance, at how insufferable I’ve become.
Daniel brings back flowers and shares them with me,
and I am happy enough. Family.
Quantified? No.
David keeps tabs on the situation, sometimes,
very occasionally checking to see how I’m doing.
It’s easiest when he speaks about Daniel, about secrets and sex,
about the fields of flowers down the path.
I feel happy when he mentions Daniel, free.
The cracks are forming, and we are all distracted with our efforts.
I’ll soon need to purchase another pair of glasses, this time in rose.
Written 14 June 2008 in McCarthy, Alaska. Revised 1 October 2018 in Payne County, Oklahoma.
Brian Fuchs, “10th & Cordova” from Okie Dokie (Scissortail Press, 2019)