Posts for June 13, 2019 (page 4)

She touched my chin and my heart
in one fell swoop,
kidnapped my thoughts and took over my
life in three weeks and four days–
her peach pink lips pulled into a grin
when I stumbled over words and cracks in the road–
My God, she loved that, me lookin’ the fool,
and I loved playin’ it just for her–
I’d’ve spooned my brain out and sold it for a penny
if it’d make her pretty face light up or I could hear her
loud laugh just one last time–
But it was never meant to be,
and I shoulda known my Momma and my Brother
wouldn’t let me be happy–
I shoulda known before Big Brother raised his gun
and Momma aimed it for ‘im
and my Pretty Peach Girlie got a hole right in the middle of her
sweet head–
I got a matchin’ one right in my heart,
but no piece were raised against me–
So when Momma and Big Brother were hanged
like willow branches I ain’t seen since I were just little–
I gotta admit,
it felt damn good to watch ‘em swing.

Okay
gather 1st
your supplies
into the shaded spot that reminds you of your great grandmother’s hands

she was
(is)
the sunny edge of the forest

It’ll be hard to spin the dial
deep:

flight paths & barking dogs and & creaking swings $

there it is
just below your narrative smirk

there is only just enough time to be so genuine now

–crush the pokeberries between your fingers–
(avoiding the nose & mouth)

drop the dark purple mash into the inflatable kiddie pool, full up
to the sea turtle rim with water & vinegar
& hope

(the hope can be borrowed if you can’t produce your own)

wiggle toes through
the water, in
the berries, on
the soft plastic on
sacred earth

drop. each. stitch.
of cloth into the pool

you might smell
pipe tobacco
& hear
the clatter of an old screen door

listen

–you were always exactly as the universe needs you
–quit squalling
–the biscuits need done

You won’t be able to wear sandals for days
&everything you possess will be immune to your own poisons

Did you know that flowers
can hear?
That the shiver of bee wings
thrills the primrose
of Tel Aviv
as the vibrations rummage
around in their bowl-
shaped petals
tickling vein and hood
stigma and anther
under a vagrant moon?
That the anticipation of apiary
embrace instigates their pink
lust     causes a cascade
of nectar     a surge
of sweetness
amid the swelter
of a July day?
Flowers quiver
sway
teeter
on windless afternoons—
the savvy bees
hover in delight
then tumble
into the depths
only to climb out later
gilded and glazed.
The next day they shed
the gilt glow
from their furry bodies
while concave flowers in another
pasture wait
for the susurration
of wings.

She has chosen wisely,
safe place, curl of drainpipe
against garage wall.
She weaves string and twig
into a cupped palm 
for the bright, blue eggs 
that will surely come.

Storms approach and I worry
about all her hard work,
these chores of motherhood.
But she knows what she is doing.
Finally, she settles in, 
down. Plumbs out her body,
spreads her feathers wide.
This incubator of warmth
and love.
 

planted on the corner of Maxwell and Lime
his sock hat and sunken eyes discomfort
his cardboard sign a handwritten assault
on the boundaries of private property  

trapped at a red light I’m forced to endure
sad accusing eyes I try to disarm
by turning away and looking hard
at something I pretend commands my attention  

angry angry angry he makes me feel
angry angry angry that he wants what’s mine
I fear his begging will wrestle away
my hoarded emptiness so full it’s about to spill  

and when the traffic light turns green
I creep down the road seeing red  

This is all about rebirth     I look in

the mirror and see a bird on fire

a sprout in spring     a cocoon split

down the center with a monarch

erupting into the room     my wings

in high contrast     this is all about

rebirth     a fresh lunar cycle beaming

down upon dark rich soil     the

climax of a circle     a revolution in

heartbeats     this is all about rebirth

about expanding into a much larger

frame     about dipping my hands in

my own ashes and creating whatever

comes to mind     whatever I wish

I watched them during his prayer.
Unseen by him and by everyone

with closed eyes.  Ballet dancers,
they were sensitive–

grappling to communicate,
struggling with every ounce

of their life’s force, to convey
what they saw, grasped.

I tried to hold them once
when we were young

and I saw their vulnerability,
I wanted to comfort,

be with them.  It’s the voice
of the prophet

that captivates me,
that for which I aim.

Initiation
matrix coalescence core
lustrous glowing beams

Divergent photons
polarization design
periodic shift

Alignment confines
fragments simulate crystal
like lattice structures

Imprisoned particles
may exercise migration
quantum tunneling

The world has stopped spinning

It has before.

Cars keep moving outside my window 

while I wonder what it’s like to live in a world that doesn’t stop 

or go dark every now and again.

The first time my mom comes in,

she asks if it’s one of the dark days. 

I tell her yes through layers of blankets and shame 

one much heavier than the other.

These days have come so often that I’m beginning to think no others exist.

Two hours pass 

slow and thick as the air.

My mom comes in a second time 

and opens the blinds like she’s found 

a cure for this fire I am consumed by 

this thirst that will not go away 

It’s like God himself is talking to me when she speaks 

“Raise ya window, honey. It rained.”