Hi Seattle
I'm back and
I've got a sunburn.

Most mornings I stay up late.
Most mornings I regret.
The pattern persists.

ART IS _.
#ilovemydog #selfie #blessings #progress #goodthings #fortune #goodhealth #itsnotjustfitness #itslife #mdw2013
ten tries to get a good shot

the words, the feel, the scene, its meaning:
A slave stood whispering
"all glory is fleeting."

News at 6...
vacationer paraglides into window of own hotel.
lol.

We are the land
of the free because of
the brave.  

Best.
BBQ.
Ever.

3 easy steps
race, class, gender intersect
Words cannot express

Gratitude for those
who have given.  If I only had one more day.
I really want a pair of roller blades.

Find out why
(I wish) I could
Love his smile

Fun Friday ride
be up five hundy
by midnight

LAX - NYC - IAD
police pursuit
sweet deal, high five

some things never change
test driving the second story
when it rained

create, authentic,
strained
the day ended perfectly

awesome cake
a little bird told me
so blessed to have you, baby

Escape for the weekend
michael jackson, queen
ride like the addicted

go, diego, go

Nobody left, the old girl screamed
to skyscraper apartments,
and shopping malls

sittercity is the source
Suggested post.  
Like page.

After the end
she wore the beige bra that she bought for him
because he liked plain things  
under a dark turtleneck that meant she was mourning
their loss even if maybe he wasn't

she shivered into the street
and watched the palm drop on the moon,
the stars pop out like street lights whose bulbs you couldn't change,
their high up light bleached the night,
falling over the Prius, bouncing off the half-bumpered Honda, sliding down the metal window connector of the neighborhood's only El Dorado before ending up on pavement like most things do
the garage seemed to radiate and
other people's windows glowed yellow

as she turned to go
a cat rolled across the four lane road
like it was a meadow

Round, the kumquats grow
Sharp-leaved,  they green the sky
The gate opens wide

You toss superlatives at me
like a short order cook
flings eggs at a griddle


I love you more than any man has loved a woman.
A ring, a daughter's name, a retirement plan.
I love you the max.

You are
the water bottle I take to work
the jars of canned fish hiding in the cupboard
the baking supplies unused on the kitchen table
the night that falls
the patch of green that joins the sidewalk to the street
the bedspread I crawl under
alone and waiting when I can't sleep.

You are for me.  
You are.  You can't not be.

In winter's first September
A black horse rides the white wall
Poor men lie on rich carpets
Allah's smoke envelops all

The blonde gypsy gestures
To Jerusalem, her empty room
"I am waiting for my father,
Have you seen him - he's coming soon."

A ride.
Nighttime.

Big like a man but
wrapped like a present
in paisley spandex
she wails at the world.

ain’t life Good.  
Ain’t life good to me.

Rain stains her cheeks
As I walk by she shrieks

You ain't all that.
you Ain't all that to me.

Executives smile
before they pull out the knife -
stressful way of life.

Born in hell, died in the swell
When his mother fell

Into the promised land; now ain’t life grand
Kids pick berries, momma washes pans
Daddy raises a knife to chop his hand

Boy, you are the hero come to save us all
Tie your shoes; smile as I fall

Her cough got thicker, her boy got bigger
Wanted to come home but instead he crossed the river

Back in Sacramento, his father died
The boy, too late, walked as he cried

Dead man smiled, his boy looked down
In all his life, he’d never learned to frown

Momma, he said, I’ll buy you a house to own
With all my money we’ll never be alone

My mom only three
Not a single memory
Of that big tall soldier
Used to bounce her on his knee

The Irish man gone,
Grace raised her little girls.
She pierced their ears and
she brushed their curls

And every month she bought two bonds.
Told them stories so they could go beyond
the iron in the ground, the lumber on the hill.
That small town two girls watched out the window sill

Between the man’s death and hers
Grace lived 50 years
But still she loved him
And the daughters they held dear

Words are letters only,
The sounds they disappear
It’s the sadness in our hearts
That will keep our grandma near

Insider.  
Like, shop, save
outrun tornadoes in your Ford Escape.

Man woman break
apart
the end before the start

Timing belt wails
He bails, she trails
another sad tale

Time marches on
and still she dreams of
dawn

Sears owns
twenty five
million
square feet

Create
beautiful
perfect
repeat.

The trees duck and sway
A branch thrown here, a leaf dropped there
A trunk flung across the walk

The cars drift as
their neon headlights scratch the black
To find traffic lines
To guide their climb

(not finished)
I sit in a window behind a curtain that looks like bark
I water my plants, I sit on finished wood
And I wait
For nature to run away