February 2012
1 post
I never skipped the stone far enough
that walking on water miracle that everyone else could play on repeat
I wondered why the miracles always chose them
the last to wish a whistle form
the last to pedal against gravity, scraped and bruised
the last to summon a snap between thumbs
the washing-toes-water tickles
as i think - I always sink
before the other stones reach the opposite bank
...
January 2012
14 posts
you smiled like I was your salvation you were the new world beautiful like all my shining dreams of freedom
I wanted to put you up on my shoulders so you might be a little closer to our universe
I knew something was wrong the first time my hand to your cheek saw fear in your eyes fear of this place
I promised to make it better
our baby was beauty you held her with shaking arms and...
break brack crack back
dislocated rotated spindle spine
spinning slow pulling pressure
pushing palms
towards contending vertebrae limits
controlled contortion
connected descent
i’ve gotta sundried, sunburnt puerto rican mutt she’s gotta a snout that rubs stink in the corners with love licks ferociously like she would eat you if she was big enough waddles with pride.
he wears a red shirt that matches her scarf. it’s not on purpose, they weren’t on purpose. i read a silly poem at their wedding. it ended with
“why??”
everyone patted my head and said it was cute.
now, back-seat-sitting, still nine at heart i don’t ask questions.
she makes a borrowed joke about his bad driving, and his chin’s-a-dublin laugh sets in, starts...
i can’t decide how to hide. i wish it wasn’t dark inside
i told my insides to wait a while until the outside could reconcile the is and was and is not me
to find her a him that knows how to be
to share the night and know the day
and wonder why we always pray
ramble, love.
blondie
burning, blue five-year-old tells me:
its not about me.
she wraps her giggling toes round silly fingers and rocks me back
chin tucked in
i’m coming home
i sit with heavy hands
cradle topped candy crying;
a sound you’ve never heard before
its like rain drops when deaf lightening strikes
neon trees falling free
able to hold any host of guests
able to cup you up in knarled...
i want to wrap up my inside thoughts inside a small brown paper package
and send them to a wrinkled paper bag woman who understands
she speaks a language so few people understand
she can count them on both hands
they are all family.
in theology class we learned about guardian angels
my father gave me silver saint christopher for driving safety
i never believed in angels until i met you
stripped of wings and miracles
you found all my ripped jean blue days
and laced courage into soul
you taught me what happiness sounds like
closing my eyes, i knew it was you
“i’m not worth your time” he says.
but she says it at the same time -
so they don’t hear each other.
“i don’t know how to be just yet” she says.
“i don’t know what you mean.”
she squirms.
“you make me smile?” he says.
she wants to keep him smiling.
that is something certain.
i want to see if he’s real.
i want him to...
all the thoughts in my head met.
and they sat down at the funeral home to mourn.
but it was so loud outside
outside
people kept walking
in and out of their lives
the stop light kept changing
red.
green.
stop.
go.
stop.
go.
please stop.
happy hand holders
happier when not holding hands
there’s a boy with a sharp smile and twinkle in his eye
he carries a toy briefcase and waits for real life
he sings in the shower
and soapsud, toy-rubber-ducky dry
he ignores the dead
the dead born dead
i’m talking about crip walk play grounds where crippled kids laugh
not knowing their laughing bellies will soon be shot at bullets
and they’ll bleed out onto the pavement
red...
simple him and simple her
simply side tracked with the hum
of havers holding heads so high…
she wears turquoise and silver
her hair flirts with your fingers
as she weaves her words around your neck
collar tight she holds you
but all you can think is how beautiful