Friday, April 26, 2013

Clouds, Holy Water, Butter

How do we know when You are speaking to us?
You are something holy,
You keep us up at night.

I hang on your arms like a clingy dancer
apologizing repulsively -
I'm sorry.

This might be indigestion
or a league of angels outside my window,
faces turned full toward me like moons,
pale deer.

           Once I ran, I run, I wanderlust
I wait to be anesthetized. I ring my hands
or swish around in pantaloons, ripening
for the orphanage.


e = yes.


Come by here and walk with me among the herbs
like some sophisticated gentleman,
discriminating lavender from lavender
who walks upstairs in slippers
and doesn't use the banister or a pool clad cape. A bag of sand.

Dementia. I will always be a helpless pea-weed, somewhere sending tendrils
out to the patronizing son. Take what I can get. Lick up
a frozen drop azalea, rhododendron.

Rubber buy, rubber buy beads. Rubber buy beads and coats. Old peat coats. Nanny goats
and sleep.

Friday, April 19, 2013

We Are

We are
bared tongue
to the ice

bared eyes
to the sun

bared arms to bared arms

bared arms to bared arms.

Trickle to the Sea

I am always afraid of mediocrity.
But if I say nothing, chance nothing,
sling nothing out into the air,

nothing will set forth
or turn colors,
peach and green and umber.

And so call, spread out, cast off silently on a river.
Earth itself needs to see
the things it grows while sleeping. 

Thursday, April 11, 2013

While snipping a bowl of string beans...

While snipping a bowl of string beans,
I thought of
how your name tastes on my tongue -

- smoke and brick,
cedar chips
and coriander seed.

Saturday, April 6, 2013

first love

how did i choose?
     i was so young
with you.

i opened my eyes

and yours was the first
face I saw

     it was over.

i loved you

from the day i was born

and the moment i saw your face
i knew you were true.