I want this poem
to make love
to you
to un-
tether
you
welcome
you
in
I want it to
tickle &
tease
tingle
inside
your
ear
tantalize
I want this
poem to wax
& wane
go
whimsy &
wild
words
falling
line
after
line
your
limbs
lengthen
your
breath
quickened
This poem wants
to call
you
by your
true
name
Tomorrow is Juneteenth
And this is a reminder of
How many days have passed
Since you’ve asked yourself,
How can I make you any prouder
Of me
Than you were the last time I checked in
There’s only one way
To find out
Amherst, Massachusetts
Between this ship’s soft, swayed sides, I’m born again
to dance. The body—already a form—
gives way, repeats the phrase.
The movements keel,
doubled in time, space:
first, right then, left & then, again.
The light outside of my apartment
casts everything orange–shadows fall,
paint ascetic stripes along lone wall.
I wonder, can we fully ever know another
person’s heart
or is it all imago–
I feel like I call out
all the time, unheard
a little, my big body
all want and swell,
my voice somehow both
loud and unseen
like the echo of a child
yelling into a river gorge
or the buzz of a dryer
in a dying laundromat–
the gleaming
halogen outside my window
gives me these lonely thoughts.
Oh
what I’m saying is
if I could melt into the shade sometimes
and be on the other side
of everywhere, I would
be such a fan of the entire world, it’s many
corners: enhabit every pocket
of the place:
the dots on i-s, the narrow
under each Venetian blind.
there’s a litany of disappointments
that plague me, budded with
hope
born in naivety & now
have withered & blackened,
burnt, dead, & unable to be
revitalized
tomorrow, my love, don’t worry,
the shepard’s coming to prune you,
your dreams will flourish again,
& we’re not creatures destined to an eternity of death
Rainbow ring
Around the moon last night
Tonight, perfectly reflecting
Off a metal rooftop
Through the tree, it looks like the glow from it’s rising
Petite Fleur
By Henri Salvador
Un homme et une femme Francis Lai
intstrumental version
Kabocha, sweet potato, asparagus, green bean
Tempura
With hot mustard, raspberry sesame, the white or pink rabbit which reminded me of thousand island but was actually a concoction of parsnip and white carrots, ginger…
Kale salad, with white rabbit and cilantro
And the spicy mayo on the avocado mango salad drizzled with blackberry ginger vinegar and lemon
Malade D’amour by Salvador again makes me feel like my heart has roosted in it’s place
Solstice season is the most beautiful time
Je ne suis la Pour Personne
Again
A Person is a Sometime Thing– Masekela
“Memorize a poem you love; both poem and poet will be alive in you.”
~Greg Pape
Memorize a poem
you love;
both poem and poet
will stay alive
in you.
my father told me
with his hat pushed back
cigarette hanging from his lip
green leaves and orange sky
serving as a backdrop
he sat at a picnic table
he built
with his own hands
that a man
will work himself to death
he didn’t tell me
that if that man
knew how to say how he felt
he wouldn’t have had an aneurysm
shingling a roof
or that he might have
caught the cancer
before it ate up his brain
though they weren’t the last words
my father ever said
they serve as a warning
that those aching muscles
torn skin
stained clothes
won’t fix anything
that’s broke
On the hellish days
when this damned disease
feels as though it might take me
feels like I might give in…
You will me back to life somehow
with a simple cup of tea
put on a tune, and ever so slowly
whirl me around the kitchen
impressing me with the best scuffled waltz
my aching legs can muster
all while taking my temperature
tonight I’ll push through
another exhausting episode
if it means I’ll wake up next to you.
I don’t want to write a poem today
I want to go to sleep
and think about the boy I like
good night
