Sending poetry to the world
Dreaming of Tuesday’s
parties, glorious rippling
colors, all manner of
food and gaiety, strangers with
strange stories, big ridiculous hats,
cacophony of singing,
and drunkenness, lots of it
spinning, hours disappearing
under the weight of the night
and slow dancing whispers,
all versions of us
unwilling to believe in a
dawning Wednesday.
Wake up! Wake Up! There is so much
To do! Watch the trees, flush with green,
How they open their sun catchers
And breathe just like us. There are ripples to create and
Secret worms to unearth.
Come, test this messy black dirt
With your bare feet and count the many
Grains of light on your tongue.
Wake up now, small one, and find your life in the dawn.
Over lunch, a mantis settled for my Stella de Oro day lilies in the
blazing west sun on my roof deck in Baltimore. A capricious whim,
or calculated move – its motivation irrelevant. To the immediate south,
basil sage perfume, and wild-eyed purple petunia. Air conditioners
hummed mildly for the mantis on a deepening yellow bloom and
just as motionless as a cat perched two roofs away. I watched, captivated.
I willed the insect to move. Electricity rushed the wires. A car door closed.
Wind rustled pollen loose as a police helicopter
charged us to the east. Not one spindly leg twitched. I looked up.
– a liminal space, a sudden tumblingwhirring cacophony of
skin
and privilege
and good blocks
and protection, and
murder and
bad blocks and
fear and
and grief and so much grief –
Then looked down. Mantis had moved while the rotor blades roared.
It perched upside down mindful, head bowed,
tiny insect arms set in prayer. Steady as the sirens followed
like clockwork. Steady as we thought of our neighbors, knowing not a single one.
Written 7/11/16
Time and its relativity are clear now.
The animals and I keep a same schedule, and like them,
I believe I still matter. Hours are meaningful
Although they carry no cash.
Instead of colleagues, I converse with a cold front.
Clouds dash by at a pace I
Don’t know. Underneath, fears lap like
a flooding creek. I let them go;
tossing pieces of grass with gravity.
Time is stretched by gratitude.
I no longer rush. Let’s throw a ball
for the dog. I choose my adventures and
look up when I like.
There is space to expand and contract. To be.
We are now our own universe.
Tomorrow, a concept, just out of reach.
Back then, we had sunburned tips of noses,
sand permanently stuck to feet.
Dinner, a pig pulled and dressed,
Sat abandoned on paper plates.
Sacrifice meant nothing as waves
Crashed near, and the skim of the pool
Wobbled gently.
A standing speaker lept alive.
Soulful beats familiar thanks to dad.
But I was afraid.
Afraid of my height, of my body and how it would
Move wrong or freeze. Afraid of an empty, chlorinated
Dance floor that could swallow me whole.
Did you know this fear? We never saw.
Instead, you charged ahead.
A dancer first on the floor,
celebrity in style, grace and light.
You the heartbeat and we now rushing cells.
How we danced! Your bronzed arms
Swinging front to back. Legs in rhythmic
Steps side to side. Husband across
Matching each joyful bounce. Your ever-widening
Smile an invitation to join
a life of frequency spun open like a feast.
Each song was a gift
and I suddenly lifted from the puddles.
There in North Carolina,
You taught me to be free.
How to harness a deep energy and then, pass it along.
We like ripples danced
until music became goodbye.
Us cousins, tired and sated, followed
like ducklings back over the boards
to a home temporarily by the sea.
written 4.1.20
i’m with the fishing people.
the big clouds didn’t scare us tonight
instead they blushed graciously at our compliments,
such a nice day!
below the harbor water is black and
waxed fine like a waiting ballroom floor
i have no watch, no phone, no one knows i’m here
one man catches a small one,
throws it back
to skid along the surface
soft Latin music brings on a deepening,
blues and reds,
i watch him catch the same fish again
it dances this time, dies,
one star brightens to accept it, ripples settle out across the sky.
written 10.8.13
one time your green energy
was so vibrant it sang straight to
heaven in a summery heat
then, as chill settled in your bones,
you gracefully
blushed, embarrassed by this new
weakness in your spine,
until a capricious wind,
sudden,
one grey November day,
gave you the push to let go, and you did
oh so gently making your way
to a shallow grave
on the wet pavement, reflecting back
to your roots.
written 11.23.11
White flowers floating on their faces
in a green-scaled harbor, they are
searching for a bottom they’ll never find.
Fish them out with childish hands
leave to dry on a scorching brick walk,
their petals disintegrated but volant.
written 7.31.12
the smell of Old Bay blue crabs
fizzles down the spine
of an electric storm cloud
and humidity
seeps up around the ankles
of a city steeped in promise:
he reluctantly pulls back a broken screen door
and lets it shut with a bang.
inside another door a pool table is a
vivid green
field of dreams
spiked by whiskey breath
as each man leans close to take a shot.
written 6.29.11
outside
winds rattle in their Song
glory to themselves
basking in their chill, their roar,
their natural state
of movement —
We- the page- the vessel
the form that gives
the winds their form
as they move
rattle, dance,
their self-assured
Songs of them-selves.
oh wind,
you fearsome friend,
always with the
troubling advice:
“move, keep moving”
written 4.12.11
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