Posts for June 2, 2022 (page 2)

I’ve never lived in a place that has four traditional seasons. Raised in Southern California, I’ve spent the last 43 years in the Arizona Sonoran Desert.  We  don’t have snow in winter, nor do we have many deciduous trees that dazzle with colorful leaves in the fall.What we do have, though, are palo verde trees. The name palo verde translates from Spanish to “green stick”.The most common palo verdes have distinctive, bright green bark–this bark is green because of chlorophyll. Photosynthesis occurs through the bark to feed the trees, as well as through the leaves. They form a canopy of feathery green leaves, providing dappled, much appreciated shade in the desert heat.To me, the most amazing aspect of palo verdes is when they bloom near the end of spring–scads of bright yellow flowers adorn the stretching branches. Our desert breezes dislodge the flowers, which float and swirl in the air, creating yellow carpets on streets, sidewalks, and lawns. To see a palo verde in full bloom, against a brilliant azure Arizona sky, and, if you’re lucky, a rock formation, is breathtaking. It also is a sign to Arizonans that summer is just around the corner.

Colors of Spring
Palo Verde tree
Blooms eddying in the air
Harbinger of heat.

Mornings are damp

with hot cat breath

and sheds of fur

twinkling through the air

before being sucked up

by the rounded purifier

stationed quietly in our nook.

The hum of the machine harmonizes

with the purrs of the stinky beast

who looks to me not as caretaker

but rather food dispenser,

giver of scritches, flinger of hair ties

previously lost between bedsheets

and holder of warm lap.

There will be no thanks,

nor praise for a job well done,

but the connection remains

simple and symbiotic,

payments given by head nuzzles.

And despite what the paperwork says

we all know who owns who.

I cried at a yard sale this mornin’.
Flat out bawled in front of a bunch 
of bent-backed, soft-hearted strangers 
at the senior center the next town over. 
I bought a puke green polka dot dress
and a brass elephant for a buck.
I handed out peppermint soap with a smile
and a pile of jigsaw puzzles 
knocked a knot in my stomach, 
but I kept my shit together pretty good.
‘Till one of them asked about my people 
and put her hand on my back. 
Right dead in between my shoulders 
like my Mamaw used to do, 
knuckles knotted with arthritis and memory. 
The ghost of a touch turned tears loose 
and I choked and swallowed
and smiled some more at a room
full of grannies who can’t compare
and can’t help it ’cause they ain’t her.
Bless their hearts. 

sweet, sour
your mind dwells on my hours
tomato juice, running up my arm

estranged, rearranged
your movement makes me feel strange
spring mix, sticking in my teeth

learn, go
it’s funny that i don’t know
knife sharp words
my body grows

how do you live like you?

how do you scrape so deeply into your bones, pull out nothing, then move on?

how do you leave a piece of you alone to fend for itself for days on end?

i can’t imagine being so self important that my own thorns wrap around tight enough to pinch me.

i can’t imagine being so trapped in my brain that i dont care about the world burning around me.

i can’t imagine stabbing a loved one and pouring coffee on the wounds like that heals it.

i can’t imagine you’ll be able to bring yourself to reality.

i can’t imagine you apologizing with sincerity.

i can’t imagine a you that isn’t vain.

i just seriously can’t imagine.

you’re just like your sister.

A show, set in the past,
to remind us of what we used to be.
The lights go down
and come back up somewhere else,
and we go willingly,
ignoring all the coughs and mutters and phones
and everything else tugging us back
to the world we were in just a moment ago.

The lights go down
and come back up where we started,
and we stand up, file out and say
“Thank God we’re not like that anymore,”
as we return to our real world.

In all of this, not once do we stop
to consider the idea 
that we never left our world 
in the first place.

Laughing at me
on the way home from work
strutting a new cut
Sureal perfection taunting
Everything is better over here!

it is a neon love i toss
in between my cat
and i. a cheap spinless
pipe cleaner singing 
with a silver bell
learning pleasure
of lost and found. 

quiet on the surface
turbulent mind
steady heart
there is purpose

record in analogue
static screen
buttoned up
silent dialogue 

somebody there
to hear you
keep peace amid
permanent warfare

the data is stark
ones and zeroes
a reason to be
afraid of the dark

there has been a void
some deep scar
now is the time
to be paranoid

is everyone wrong
or everyone right
when can we decide
to no longer belong

Taken  

Fireflies float
in Mason jars
glow guilty 
stolen light
not ours.