Saturday, November 10, 2018
Wednesday, November 7, 2018
Sunday, November 4, 2018
serve me up, piece by piece
what good am I to myself
take my hand and write the words that will untether hearts and minds
take my feet and lead the refugees out of war, furthermore
take my arms, open them
take my shoulders and lift the young women above the oppression experienced by their mothers and grandmothers
take my head and place it on a lunch tray because it is of no use to me
as it has not commanded my hand, my feet, my arms, my shoulders
to do what needs to be done
serve me up, piece by piece
A prompt from imaginary garden with real toads
Sunday, June 10, 2018
Saturday, June 2, 2018
Sunday, May 20, 2018
often in the spring, scent
of freshly fertilized fields
wafting softly over morning dew.
My nose instinctively crinkles and my emotions turn instinctively annoyed,
but I let the fertilized earth fill my lungs and I am filled with love
and a sense of protection over this place.
The smell of the earth reminds me
of what is real, of what is not
curated for our consumption.
The midwest farmers are real.
The midwest farmers are everything.
The midwest farmers are everything I am not.
I love them for this.
If you are not familiar with the midwest life
then you may not understand what it is
to be made of contradictions.
To all at once be judge and protector.
To all at once be thick and permeable.
Like the soil, the conditions have to be right.
Tillable, the desire to be turned over
Monday, May 14, 2018
Away from what
I don't know
from where we came.
I have amnesia
a different day but maybe not.
Suspended in jelly
my slow thoughts
follow my tendons visibly moving under my skin.
I am made of puppets
I don't understand.
This jelly is red
I don't understand my pores.
the world in
to my skull I am sorry I did not protect you.
I should have
manipulated these hands
into the earth every day I go.
Sunday, May 6, 2018
makes her feel more real to me
like back in ninety three
we were so silly
our future planning
years together spanning
still now I'm weeping
together broken feelings
of someone gone but never dead to me
trying to find the remedy
too blind to ever see
the love in front of me
Wednesday, April 25, 2018
cup the base of your neck in my hand
and pull you to meet me, breath to breath
your mouth to mine
I might be able to experience you
all of you at once, instead of in pieces.
But only after we share
a cup of loose-leaf tea and gentle smirks.
Can we float outside these walls, hand in hand.
the trees are purple against a sepia sky
and nothing is moving except the tips of the purple grass
under our worn sneakers, pointed toes, grazing.
But did I mention the floating. That's important.
Like in those movies where an unseen force
is pulling, pulling
the toes again, grazing the purple grass.