Posts for June 17, 2023

when everyone and

every goddamn thing

has slipped into

my DNA and taken

out my codes

you come

in the fabled eighties

sunsets of pinks

crimsons and oranges

reflecting in a black ocean

fill those missing parts

with hope that I never had

in the first place

Guinevere

There’s a moment when the morning sun
makes everything look like clean white paper
The shiso, the beautiful truck, the street,
my hands, the blades of grass

Clover and blueberry nestle together in a pot of interesting river stones 

And another moment comes 
when it all yellows like old film
then surges with 
large pink bokeh dots

In all the pristine lines
breaths of air caress me

The garbage truck noises get further away
My stomach twists a little bit
My skin feels like baking cookies 

As I write myself into existence

(finally alive, no longer a lie)

I unwrite the lies I swallowed and did my best to embody as truth

(finally alive, no longer a lie)

I unwrite

• a misunderstanding of sexuality: I am allowed to be desirous, hungry, even unquenchable

I unwrite

• the lie that we must stand in either/or: I am both, I am neither. I am everything all at once, a paradox

I unwrite

• that my skin is too dark, freckled like a ripe strawberry: I will never rub it away

I unwrite

• the limitations of my Blackness: Everything I touch is Black, like Midas but make it Hoodoo

As I write myself into existence

I realize the truth

I re-member

I stitch together stars, the gases of Jupiter, Neptune

to make a body unbridled by fear

I unwrite to rewrite

long pauses
short walks
on a quest
to find
something
I can stare at
contemplating
existence
waiting for
Godot
or a bus
or something
for fifteen
minutes
before
schlepping
back to
flop in 
my comfy chair
with a hrmph
to then
remember
and rise
to return
to the prior
location
and grab
an incorrect
item

but the grandchildren,

who’ve never seen a paper,

have no idea what… 

There are men out there 
Who claim the title
Of “father” and “dad” 
They talk, all that talk 
But never really 
Walk the Walk 
They “pay” their dues
But you never see them 
Those men don’t show 
Their faces in crowds 
Or in the stands 
They are always late 
Even when they set the time
Their entitlement supersedes all else
But you….You, always show up. 
If you’re late, there’s a reason 
That is never your own
You let it be known why
Apologies are something you aren’t afraid of 
Tender words and kind eyes
Are never far away
Every band practice, recital, 
Concert, skinned knee and parent pick up 
Every friend tift, broken heart, awards ceremony 
Thank you for everything 
Most of all…
For being so deserving 
Of such a holiday.
You’re the best 
We could have ever hoped for, 
And so much more.

I’ll put this sage by the rosemary. 
Despite the shade from the elm tree,
they should get plenty of sun. 
And the new dahlia
tubers, I worry,
are they too deep,
so precious,
I lose 
sleep. 

Sometimes poetry leaps 
from my pen, whale breaching 
brine, but today it is an idle
goldfish trapped in my mind,
circling the confines
of its glass bowl, too feeble
to realize freedom
hovers inches above its empty
head, if only its bulging eyes
would look up.