The day was bright like wash on the line,
Cold like an ice cream headache,
Crowded like a jar of jellybeans.
He has forgotten me like an overdue bill.
His mom is as giggly as a girl on prom night.
My house is messy as the inside of a pumpkin.
Christmas Eve was empty like the endpapers of a book.
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 3:55 PM UTC
I want to go back to that place
The one I wandered away from
The house of pleasure, warmth, joy
The place where affection is natural, easy
All sheathe their weapons at the door
(Instead of keeping them within easy reach
on the dining room table)
When you close and bar the door at night
You're locked in with a friend, partner, ally
Not a trickster hiding a dagger.
I want to go back to the haven, sanctuary, long house,
hearthstone, table, bed, and garden
Where love is rooted
And flourishes in safety.
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 3:54 PM UTC
I am a cat curled in front of the fire
chin extended, resting on back leg
tail curled like a fat piping cord around my edge.
I am a cat gazing out a window
watching movement
safe behind glass
but interested.
I am a cat prowling through grass
suddenly still
sharply focused on two birds above my head.
I am content
and I also desire.
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 3:53 PM UTC
A country I have resisted traveling to
Stopped at the border
Didn't even want to read the brochures or maps
Don't pack clothes
Everyone here is naked.
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 5:29 PM UTC
I
In the sunny backyard, all was motion.
The grass, flowers, trees, fountain, birds, cats,
Flies, earthworms, and small snakes,
All moving.
Only one thing was not moving:
Buddy.
II
Sleep, nap, or doze.
Buddy could not choose,
So he did all three
III
At dusk all over the neighborhood
Dogs were coming to their owners
With hope in their eyes.
Buddy was no different.
I picked up the leash.
IV
Buddy does not know whether to prefer lying in front of the back door
Or lying in front of the front door.
When lying in front of the front door
Buddy does not know whether to prefer
The anticipation of the mailman’s arrival
Or the satisfaction of chasing him away with savage barking.
V
Rain falls from the sky and from the porch roof.
Buddy stares.
He needs to go out and ***
It is a conundrum.
VI
O thin, starving dogs of the street
Do not give up.
You can have a bed of your own, a doggie pal,
And cats to lick.
They will all worship you, and you will grow fat with contentment.
VII
The grass grows.
The clouds move across the sky.
A shallow hole in the dirt is cool and relaxing.
Buddy knows this.
VIII
Buddy turned and turned and turned on the carpet
When he lay down
The circles remained.
IX
As Buddy walks down the street
From every house, barking,
Heralding, warning, entreating, scolding.
The cacophony swells to the treetops.
X
In the dark night
On the way to get a drink of water
I stepped on a pile of clothes on the floor.
Alas, it was Buddy.
XI
Buddy and the kitten lie side by side at the front door.
Dog is in his heaven.
XII
Buddy shook all night during the thunderstorm
When the sun came out, he slept,
Exhausted.
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 5:26 PM UTC
I gave you a blue stone
You said it was green
It was special to me
You laid it aside
Now I miss the stone
But you have forgotten about it.
I brought you a jar of peppers
Some special mustard
Imported ham
You had already eaten dinner
A week later, the ham was spoiled
You never opened the peppers and mustard.
I brought you a handful of straw,
Buttercream-colored like a baby's hair
Soft, spun from past loves and hope,
Wine pressed in my heart by my own hands.
You gave me a room, unfurnished,
A garden, dead and brown,
A well, neglected and brackish.
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 5:21 PM UTC
I want to gather your darkness
To cup it in my hands
To bury my face in it
To spread my fingers
so it expands between them, web-like
To drape it over my body
To wrap it around myself
Lie down
Sleep
and awaken inside of you.
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 5:20 PM UTC
(Apologies to T.S. Eliot)
I
The scorching noonday settles down,
The scent of Coppertone on naked backs.
At the beach.
The lukewarm beer and paper sacks
Of gritty snacks
Packed early when the day began
Are now declined by sunburnt throngs
Who toss the refuse toward the can
But miss,
Delighting eager gulls that plunge
Headlong
To dive in screeching glee for treats
Not caring that the eats
Are full of grunge.
They feast in bliss
On rye and Swiss.
Soon, hungry, blistered bathers stiffly stand
Now mindful of the quantity of sand
Inside their shorts and thongs.
And then the stiff walk to the pier
To find a shower and cold beer.
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 5:18 PM UTC