Sitting in the after-sun of a chair freshly rained on
Just starting to dry
Wet jeans, who cares, it's nice out
I'm going to read about Odysseus
And all his series of unfortunate events.
I was at the part in the underworld where
all the souls are drinking the blood offering and
giving their past-life histories
When I heard a crinkling,
And peering under the table, saw
a red squirrel (the kind only those who hate non-native species can truly dislike with a passion)
shuffling a cumbersome
brown candy, a milky way
in his handsome claws,
Whiskers twitching as he munched,
Like bouncing eyebrows,
Stuck with
Strands of chewy caramel.
He clutched at his high-calorie treasure,
spitting out gold and silver foil,
black, beady eyes, glistening greedily
as if to say "My precious"
Till he snatches up the last crumble
of chocolate.
I've sat watching-still so long
He approaches my foot
At which I call him a fat little squirrel
And he runs off, indignant
Leaving behind,
His
Desecrated Christmas package.

taste
like the feeling of walking out the door
and taking in that clean, bright air
slightly scented with chlorine
by the hot poolside
deep, sky blue water
so cool
wade in

green beans snapping in your mouth

sound
like that last step
meant to be stealthy
touching down on a landmine of twigs,
the falling
of a thousand miniature trees, in sequence
with an axe.
almost,
the juicy crackling of a
campfire, after it's consumed
that accidently drooping marshmallow.
forgive it
as it blackens, warps, and crumbles
it tried to hold on.

green beans snapping in your mouth

smell like dry
ice vapors, that float, free
as a spirit, undefined,
like glass shard cuts
of freshly mowed grass,
breathe in that vibrant green,
discarded and scattered
like an answer blowing in the wind
through the waves of a spring
field, full of thin whistling reeds,
hanging wind bells
on the eave,
dripping with rain.
Listen to the
sweet, nothing-tang tones
delicious
silent-music

can't quite describe
the sensation--
green beans snapping in your mouth

The cheery, bronze bell heralds our coming--
A stout, brown man, a happy Buddha wearing my father’s vest
And his diminutive daughter, a caramel girl with inquisitive eyes
Marveling over the lush painted settings
The tapestries of women with slanted eyes,
Sitting precariously on rocks, surrounded by wild ocean-foam
Mermaid mistresses I imagine
With long golden nails,
A holy temple atop each brow, an adorning crown

Past the multicolored, patterned elephants
And silk orchid flowers,
Gliding across dark, cherry-chocolate wood
Lacquered, glossy as her watching eyes
As if all were coated with amber honey-sap

They take their thrones.

The windows are draped in lace and purple
The color of monarchs, even the plump, crystal glasses
Shine pale maroon, like African violets, in their elegance
And a Bengal Sugar Sweet Tiger, swims in each cup
Dusky orange, as a faded sunset
Belly up he is curled, exposing white soft cream…

And florescent rice crackers
Lie popped in a porcelain dish
Stiff and bright,
Like skeleton jellyfish, frozen
In mid-propelled undulation,
About to escape
Before they are dipped and broken
In sticky pepper, gold-gilded sauce

Rich curries; satay, with alien names
Are laid before them, feast upon feast
Savory meats and vegetables soaked in vinegars;
A parade of colors and textures and tastes
Every plate garnished, an artwork…

And while she surveys this domain,
In all its tiny grandeur, a feeling of
Dignity creeps down her shoulder, straightens her spine
To think that part of her is from such a kingdom
Though she might never see it
To still feel like royalty,
The Queen of Siam.

Aaaa
       aaaa
                   aaah…
Little Claire’s last words before she went
Turned phantom, lost forever from the touchable world
I know her as the ghost who hides in the kitchen cabinets,
Haunting our tea saucers,
And other good china…
Unable to cross over that fine river
Searching, incomplete, she is
Unsatisfied in some way
If only she could remember why

I am forgetful too
Mother is mad at me
I didn’t dust the cabinet linings
Like she asked
But Claire is so grateful, because I forgot
Just long enough, for the dust to
Gather
What she left unfinished,
A simple sneeze,
She really didn’t have a clue.

Finally…
Choo!
No more unfinished business.

*God bless you, Claire.

Find a funny phrase
               A flighty feather
                         Let it tumble, twirl
                                Wonder, whirl
          Settle, softly on your nose
       To slip and fall,
        The loosed petal of a rose
             A skeleton autumn leaf
                             **** it with your toe
                                                  Pick it up and blow
                                                                up to the wind
                                                         No fickle feeling
                   Empty sentiment could understand
                 That breeze
                    When your feet
                           finally leave the ground