Posts for June 20, 2017 (page 4)

My daughter lives way far away
Tho says by plane, it’s not
She wants me to ‘come on down’
And says it’s really hot

She tells me that when I come
I can go and see
A real true live volcano
Spewing up at me

       And when you look
       Down it’s top
       You can see
       Melting rock

What if it gets hiccups?
Oh mom, you’re in such luck
Before you take a trip up there
‘they’ teach you how to duck

What if it erupts? I say
Well mom, no cares anyway…

What else down there would interest me? (pause)

Well we have these cockroaches
About the size of drums
And if you’re really lucky
My cats will catch you one

Then you scream and run away
It’s how we exercise
Gets the adrenalin pumping
And really trims your thighs

What else down there would interest me? (pause)

The food down here is really good
If you like beans and rice
You can have it all the time
It’s very. very nice

But what if I get tired of it
The same thing every day?
Oh mom, just think about it
all the money you will save!

And don’t forget a passport
I’ll need one of those?
Yes you do, but don’t forget
You won’t need many clothes

Well, there’s a reason I’d come down
Cause you’re such a pearl
And I do love and miss you so
My Nicaraguan Girl!

I love having my attention
hijacked

The unpredictable word
engaging me

A rabbit running across a city street
in the dark 

Someone I love
grabbing my hand

Finding one of my cats at the door
to greet me

A student sending me
a thank you

Running into a forgotten friend
who remembers me

Coming to the end of a poem to find a
twist

Reading the Book of Knowledge
“Wonder Questions”

Discovering what our daughter had planned
each day of our trip

In a comedy club,
laughing at joke after joke

After decades of turkey, rediscovering
liverwurst

Reading up on menopause, then learning
I was pregnant

Lately, when my anxiety’s peaking,
I’ve taken to keeping notes
in my pocket when I leave the harbour.  

Mostly lists:
.mail card .clean bathroom .take shower
.start laundry .run tonight .Rx  

Just in case
the EMTs or doctors are ever disgusted
at the uncleanliness of my dead or unconscious body,  

a folded slip of paper
that might first flutter to the ground when pulled
from the back of my jeans, but then retrieved, and unfolded,  

to be read with tender curiosity:
I really was eventually going to shower,
and probably even wash my hair—I swear  

(though maybe wearing flip-flops without cleaning the tub)
—in the place where the hanging
pink and white razor never does anything  

but nick bony, unshaven knees.

                                                     Bardo

In the middle of the night
before the second sleep
we float in a different realm
own a changed consciousness,
voices of truth come to us,
understandings clarify,
a ghostly presence inhabits us.
We become an altered presence–
transparent, ethereal.

We are very young there–
small, peering into the darkness,
chipmunks cowering.
In the low-light,
we watch for what will manifest.
We’re tender, easily hurt,
a child in a fantasy world.

We are boats going slowly
through dense fog.
Things are silent
in the bado
except for the heart
which pounds.

Red bricks become dominos

—a dot per splat—

and miraculously change numbers.

I read the signs given. 

Bricks turn from red to gray 

reflecting the slate sky.  

from observation on friend’s side porch

What were you supposed to teach me?
Rent ranges from four to two-handed dollars?
Buy everything you land on before somebody else?
Every once in a while, you’re going to jail without clear reasons? 
Everyone starts off with the exact same amount of money?
That I win when other people are bankrupt,
and probably starving?
I’ll see twice as many jails as instances of Free Parking?
And four times as many railroads?
Having twins costs $100? But inheritance is $50?

What world were you modeled after?
What understanding chiseled your rules
into lore? 

 
Unscrew blue glass vial, draw deep breath smell smoke.
Pub’s turf fire in county Clare? Nothing nearly so cozy
nor comforting:; instead distrubing, earthy, potent, honest,
doesn’t promise me a rose garden, rather burnt manure.
Just the facts, ma’am.

Is this why I crave a whiff before bed and on waking?
Because vetiver clears my head, gets me real?  So I’m damn
sure that whatever I meet asleep or on the street has to be
gentler, simpler, sweeter than this?

(Subtext)
(After Christopher McCurry)

Has your gym membership expired?
Can you still wear a size 36 pants?
I remember when your hair and beard were red.
I need to lose weight too.
Why don’t you start walking every morning with me?

your actions contradict
everything you said, yet  

it takes me longer
to realize. Discovery  

pierces my heart.
Brows furrowed, I  

take time to search.
Truth is only relative  

when it’s understood.
I’m confused. What’s  

worse? I was sincere.