Wednesday, April 30, 2014



we say it every day, streetcar after streetcar, practice, practice and then I am saying it to air. please no, we were still practicing. I'm not good enough yet.

an apple you cannot bite into more than once without kissing the tiny toothmarks of the last good-bye, tasting the lipsticktang of the lips that got there first.

still practicing after the bows and curtseys, the set has been struck. good-bye is at our backs, tomorrow and freedom whipping just ahead, but oh here for a minute we turn around, turn back, bury our wide-open mouths noses eyes in the musty pillow that is good-bye. hold it with both hands.

your snaking oxygen tube. your skinny aggro. your shaky release. the boys. the babies. my own own body.

still practicing. in my pyjama drawer, on the coffee table, next to the morning grapefruit. good-bye goes with you and stays with me, precarious splits, I am left holding it, practicing it, eating it. kissing it. 

Tuesday, April 29, 2014

I know all the words but I'd rather not say them.

I know all the words but I'd rather not say them.
Parade of syllables, ancestry, somersaults. Stop the parade.

Too rich the cake too fat the popcorn, noisyboots,
So deaf this tired ear now, turn off the house.

The way I sign my name, thinking the loops
The way it's twins, twins, twins, where nobody'd think
The diamonds repeating me blind.


There isn't a key. There isn't a secret.
There is a parade all loosey-goosey she taught me.

You stomping the continent, megaphone proudly mute.
I know the words but what if they are not sweet?

It's all right now, the cake, the mangoes, the beginning
It parades itself it predicts itself it hums.
There's no bus coming, there's no bus gone. Stop the bus.

Monday, April 28, 2014

We're only human.

We're only human. We are made out of heads and bellies,
coffee tables and croquet sets, doughnuts and leashes without dogs.

We're only human. We are made out of typewriters cowering in basements,
rocking chairs without babies, constant noise, and resolutions.

We're only human. Only bones and mistakes held together with our own hands.
Made out of oatmeal and repeating alarms, standing in our tan lines.
We are human. Only human. Every dream has feet and more chocolate.
Bodies hiding in stairwells. Absolute truth makes us go snicker-snack.

Only human. We are that girl with ups and downs. We just remembered something.

We never really know.

(Two days in a row the online Bibliomancy Oracle gave me "We're only human." I decided it must be a sign.)

Sunday, April 27, 2014

Where We All End Up

Place is where we all end up. Living.
Living is a motor that won't stop, won't start.

Start water, panic is a luxury, start water
Water to carry and spill, boiling and disappearing.

Disappearing sundrums splashing our boney feet.
Feet old on the ground where bricks are piling
Piling broken into the shape of this place.


Place becomes time if I stay still enough here.
Here I am where my feet rest on each other.

Other bedtimes collapse, other time zones gather
Gather the islands so we can hop.

Hop the stones, leap the rocks, rest in the shadows
Shadows boiling fast slow slow
Slow living. Slow stopping still. Slow building this place.

Saturday, April 26, 2014

Quatern - I sanded the red cabinet

The next phase in making the Barbara and Donald Deer Memorial Little Free Library:

I sanded the red cabinet,
the little red cabinet, down
and painted it chocolate brown
today, a deep chocolate brown.

In the red hammock, above where
I sanded the red cabinet
I lay, on my porch, counting down
till I could close the garage door.

The paint fumes are gone now, I guess
I've mostly cleaned up all the mess
I sanded the red cabinet
and painted, and cleaned. And got dressed.

It might not sound like much right now
but I'm not much of a Hausfrau
and I'm awfully pleased with how
I sanded the red cabinet.