The Movie Theatre
Rows full of seats
In a dark room
Silence fills
Until laughter erupts
A cinematic masterpiece—
When did everyone stop clapping at the end of a movie?
Rows full of seats
In a dark room
Silence fills
Until laughter erupts
A cinematic masterpiece—
When did everyone stop clapping at the end of a movie?
Underneath a familiar night sky
In Moon, Kentucky, with the stars above
We gathered around a fire
Laughed and talked and cooked
Made new memories to look back on
Shared dreams and aspirations
Hopes for the future and for our children
A time to cherish and celebrate
A time we will always remember
A time we will forever hold dear.
I’ve reached that point in my life
where I can’t see far away,
and I can’t see up close.
The optometrist tells me
I need bifocals,
but calls them progressives
as if that would somehow
soften the blow.
It’s no blow to me,
this aging of my body.
I like this version
better than the ones before.
hold my hand along the midway
waltz with me past the carousel
smile in time to its calliope as we
toss rings at slender soda bottles,
ride the swing round and round
until, giddy, we fall madly in love
I remember a silence
filled with chirping insects,
a far off screech owl on
silent wings among the
white pines.
A constant rhythmic
humming of spring peepers
occasionally seen, bright eyes
a glow on the tree bark
of the maple in the front yard.
Wind in the leaves,
a whip poor will call
but no cars, no air conditioners
overwhelming the peace
of natural symphonic
night music.
Silence as delicate as
the clear black sky
sparkling with stars or fireflies,
one fading into the other.
I remember the distant
heat lightning, illuminating
a summer evening,
soundless and magical.
I remember silence
and peace.
KW
6/28/24
i’m always riding shotgun in your roommates car
i’m always crying because all of my favorite songs are ours
he’s in the backseat and you’re always driving
you won’t even bum
one cig or a stick of gum
so you can’t owe me anything of yours
we both know i’m not the one
my food stuck to the paper
like i stuck to your side
you paid my way but
you wouldn’t stay i tried i tried i tried
once you cracked two eggs into the same pan
sometimes i think i’m still your biggest fan
i didn’t like onions until you caramelized them for me
i can’t do anything without thinking of you it’s so embarrassing
if i say i’m eating for two i mean cold leftovers of me and you
whether the glass is empty or full it’s still only half
and i’ll always gladly take the scraps
You’re a candle in a dark room
A proud defiance of the way you’re expected to be
Perceived by many, understood by few
Your persistence is unlike anything I’ve ever known
How do you fit such tenacity inside of you?
Your honesty, a cool spring in humid heat
The love that pours out of you is warm and sweet
Your hate is something I hope I never taste
Truthfully, I know it in my heart, I was made for you
I Guess This Is It Now
Forever after it ended wouldn’t
have been slow. Enough. My
muse, my everything-even-after.
Even after, forever is so slow.
Virginia At The Ballet
Woolf works in a way
because, about this life, we can say
so many overlapping, aching waves.
Each tendu a laser, each word a ray.
—after American Ballet Theatre’s performance of Wayne McGregor’s Woolf Works—
Heel Strike Hits Hard Today
My ovaries feel like peanuts
Popping in my pelvis.
Being a woman is so very,
Very weird.
Collect
Chinatown, Manhattan
Subway rabbits.
Pigeons and bread.
Whisker vase.
Hand-pulled noodle.
you float in the shadow of Al Capone’s last home,
largest natural island in California’s San Francisco Bay,
a blessing to our choppy freezing Pacific,
a candle of promise,
a stone’s throw to freedom,
an island harboring souls who lost in a fight to survive,
some legit, some wrong place wrong time,
some turning a cheek to the harsh smack of Capitalism,
some born on the wrong side of the tracks,
some caught in a hobo’s Great Depression dream,
some reaching for the gold ring as the merry-go-round goes round and round
and the organ plays ‘life is just a dream!’
Miwoks
kicked off their Angel Island,
Chinese hard labor contributed to the coffers of railroad millionaires,
forcing incarcerated space for WWII Japanese prisoners,
Japanese precision made money for the Man,
as they sought refuge and swore not to organize in Solidarity
But the Big Guys don’t fall easy,
privilege has taught them gluttonous getting is never enough,
the Miwok Angels
were kicked off their island,
the ones who knew how to live respectfully with nature and
proliferate their land
We shame those who appear different,
Say they are wet behind the ears,
immigrants were simply seeking a future
not an Angel Island Prison
Angel Island you have earned your reputation
as
Ellis Island of the West
