FIFTEEN

I remember looking up at the ceiling
noticing peeling paint and water
stains for the first time
and dreaming I was an ant and I could
crawl through that. I remember
looking up the road as it led uphill
from the bus stop and deciding to climb
up the steep forest slopes, my backpack
sliding side to side as I lunged
for skinny trees to get a handhold.
More and more the pages
of the tear-off calendar accumulated
new dimensions. They wound up
rolled into tubes or cones, or folded
into intricate animal shapes,
and the days they represented
seemed capable of similar
transformations. I was looking
through the dog's face,
into Friday night. At fifteen, I felt
like a sculptor who had been asked
to design models of imaginary cities
out of the raw materials of ordinary
afternoons. On TV, Gargoyles,
Batman, Duck Tales, and in the air,
the distant looping of a solitary
turkey vulture, measuring
the reach of her quiet appetite
by pretending there was nothing
she couldn't see,
nothing she couldn't have.

1/1/2010

In the New Decade Terminal
3 men dress like trees,1 woman
holds belly like a basket,
all marble eyed at life

The messages go through

Some people seem so sure,
their hair always falls the same

But the cowlicks of the year visit here at takeoff -

in the corner of the country
water covers the black, flat tarmac and
up splits the cotton sky.

Resolutions

Resolutions

He'll floss more
I'll eat less sugar
He'll write more
I'll judge less
He'll eat more vegetables
I'll be less needy
and somewhere in the middle
of his increase
and my decrease
we'll balance.

























"The Man in the Vegetables" by Giuseppe Arcimboldo

Affirmation 22

In scouring the excess of answers that precludes fresh questioning,
in separating what's contemporary from what's creepy,
gradually you will come to feel that you have made a right decision.

day 1

Circles under my eyes and cracks at the corners of my mouth.
And besides, it has to happen and someday it'll all be so funny
don't you think?

But it's true, you know:
a river runs through me, too.

Un-unravelable

Words want body -
tie themselves to particles
that have weight
or smell
or make you sink just by looking.

The hands slide through the crook of the arm,
pull closer.

Cast your line out,
send hooks with hope
of a throbbing thing soon entwined.

bones of the day

i am retreating
into the bones of the day

the skeletal remains of the hours passed
display themselves without disguise
as sleep prepares to
feast on the muscles of morning
and fat of the afternoon

as night spends its hours
building for us a new day
to slowly strip away

ring it in.

Whatsgoodwithyoutonightma?
Do you want to do something?
wat you doing?
I'm in the house. I don't feel like going out.
PREGAME AT OUR HOUSE!
That sounds like the perfect thing to do.
LET'S DANCE!!!
are you coming here?
Let me know!
Dunno...still negotiating...just a couple of us here and we're shaving David
ThirDaugo. PleaseSate
I have a bottle of champagne. Find us!
Oh. well i'm bored. gonna pee and leave.
where you at?
decided to go home after watching a guy mop up someone else's puke

be gentle, she's tender...

there's a tightness in my chest.
it makes my heart pound.
makes my mortality so much closer.
but, i'm getting used to it now.

that's a lie.
sort of.

"the emotion is valid,
let it pass."
i watch it fly by,
it whooshes out the window...

along with gravity
and oxygen.

maybe there's no getting used to this-
my unending unraveling.
there is growth, though.
and strength and self love...

and beauty
in every little thing.

tightness. like holding a baby close to my chest.
like hugging someone who loves me.
makes my mortality sweeter.
makes my tenderness easier to bear.

it's ok to be boring in twenty-ten / what was that thing about cyborgs?

I haven't been doing much lately and twenty-five is a weird age around the holidays

so, I keep telling people how my grandma can video chat now and at the family reunion we all took turns talking to her on the computer

she couldn't come because she doesn't fly anymore

I say things about how she is really in great shape for ninety-three and there were four generations in the same room, if you count pregnancy and digital images

it's like one of those little culture stories on NPR or morning television, pointing out in a boring way the intersection of technology and whatever

"and my cousin held her belly up to the screen"

Comfort Zone

My comfort zone has lovely soft cushions

and walls painted the color of sand

 The windows are always open

so I can watch the people who dare to live deliberately

And cheer them on in their quest for glory in games

I am too old or afraid to play

I drink my tea and dunk my toast to maintain equilibrium

I rest in the afternoon.

Sounds so dull, but secretly I am very happy

To be the anchor of my sofa,

Cooker of meals,

Walker of dogs

Reader of stories

Washer of clothes