Sending poetry to the world
sidewalk steams heat
up ’round ankles exposed by
rolled-up jeans and
on this side
Ohio lets her guard
slowly down….
just enough to miss
a creeping chill
approaching-
painted
five-day beard, cigarette
smoke curls
like a menace grin
a gnarled hand lurches sudden —
and Kentucky turns away
disgusted
there is no one
left to help.
outside greenlawn flowers brightly call sun to
come sit
be still
watch boats careen lazy, criss cross this way
to that
your chair,
a modern present nod to its creator.
http://www.hermanmiller.com/discover/herman-millers-home-marigold-lodge/
fly —
wing lights
straight towards the north star
and the lingering space of light
left from the annihilation of day
drive —
roads winding
past office parks generic concrete
then more dark trees slumbering
beneath stars slowly extinguished by fog
below me
red white blue crowds swell
crest cheer
down the boardwalk
firework finale booms over
waves crashing
my toes sandy on a balcony
the streetlights
humming hazy
with humid Patriotism.
Brooklyn
Began with Stella, and then
Led on
Belgian beers,
Colombian food
Scattered conversation
To an off-chance
“come home with me?”
Shrugged off
Brooklyn again
Seducing
To a game of secrets,
To a brownie,
Smooshed in between fingers
Licked clean.
Led
Alone
Surprising tree-lined streets,
Streets busy, dark, still,
To a stone bench
In front of strangers-
They watched intently.
He turned to me,
With a question
But I to a black sedan,
“To another!”
To a bottle of Proseco
Off-speed dancing,
Gossiping
My eyes shining
Like Brooklyn’s reputation,
The borough asking
Persistently
Again, again, Come home with me?
glimpes of streams
and teases of
jagged peaks behind
scarves – lace silk –
clouds, some
more like a corset.
the road curves ahead…
on either side
obscured mountain impressions
spruce – dark green tall thin –
and rain.
[written in 2003 within a sketch that i can’t reproduce here…]
high heel shoes
scattered across my floor,
I used to hate that height
but now I buy them
taller taller…
I like the feeling of
a head held high
I am who you imagine
on this new road
you see me
walking tall,
hips swaying,
lips glossy,
yet it fades when I return
empty the suitcase, scatter
heels across the floor…
i have returned full of Chinook salmon and pictures of mountains…. that Mt Rainier~ captured my imagination like none other (except perhaps Denali, but i don’t think i truly appreciated it then). so happy and can’t wait to return someday….
timber trucks whipser
legends of a mountain top
so serene and blue
capped white she rises
older than my brittle bones
prouder than Tatoosh.
hey all! currently traveling through the Pacific Northwest and won’t be updating much this week…. I love Seattle! [yesterday did Pike’s and the Underground tour] and today driving down to Portland and stopping at a few mountains on the way. Hopefully will be good fuel for poetry later on…..
talk of days before
as if lifetimes ago but
i’m still on the bus.
[NOTE: my cousin and i did the whirlwind American-style tour of Europe~ 8 countries in 12 days… the kind of bus tour that all Europeans make fun of. i was reminded of this when talking with a German friend the other night who, currently living here in the States, now understands why we do these fly-by-the-night breeze-throughs of Europe; we don’t get enough vacation time to do it any other way!! and let’s face it, when you have limited time, you want to see as much as possible. anyways, the feeling on our coach bus was like the scene out the window~ days blurred past us faster than we could dare process, yet somehow we were always back on the bus….]
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