everything i can think of to say comes in poems, that happens to me sometimes, i'm not saying they are good poems, but there they are---
the grass out back is burnt
turning it's rosy wheats to the sky
like the bottoms of my daughter's feet
the kittens three
pounce through the toes of sprout
chewing silently on a brother's tail
the birds are chorusing
so loudly today, the sky is pale faced
and bald, my spirit could be soothed
but i am too fragile
my nerves rock in clumsy rows
like boats left out in storm
i am eager for life
and also hiding in the closet
' very well, i contradict myself '
some journals
don't like poems that say ' i '
so much as this
the same journals,
probably, that would
have thought Walt's poems were subversive
and not in a good way.
---
are you sleeping, brother john?
everything is metaphorical
when my mind opens all drawers
at once, i am tumbling in old clothes
stained and smelling of mold
sicked up and cleaned, to be kept
here, where you keep items you'd
like to forget, but refuse to be forgotten.
the phrase WORD VOMIT comes to mind.
coo coo.
the bird cleans itself
hard knocks into the plume.
he shakes his red
head, the cat swings her eye.
he nods to her, hello
what a very polite fellow.
mme
My Published Memoir
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"What would happen if one woman told the truth about her life? The world would split open " M.R.
she's precocious / and she knows just what it takes / to make the pros blush
The Mr. & Mrs.
what i thought love was is so much less than what it is
Our Pack: Dakota Wolf, Lola Moon, Ian Oliver and our baby, Ever Elizabeth
Someone may have stolen your dream when it was young and fresh and you were innocent. Anger is natural. Grief is appropriate. Healing is mandatory. Restoration is possible. -Jane Rubietta
you can stand under my umbrella
the light is on for you
My dear child, who can tell? One can only tell that, by remembering something which happened where we lived before; and as we remember nothing, we know nothing about it; and no book, and no man, can ever tell us certainly.
Some couples don’t ask much of one another after they’ve worked out the fundamentals of jobs and children. Some live separate intellectual and cultural lives, and survive, but the most intense, most fulfilling marriages need, I think, to struggle toward some kind of ideological convergence. Norman Rush
Pray For Kate McRae
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I Believe In Nationwide Health Care
E Pluribus Unum ( Out of Many, One )
"I pay no attention whatever to anybody's praise or blame. I simply follow my own feelings." - Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
I love this about you.
"but i am too fragile
my nerves rock in clumsy rows
like boats left out in storm"
I like this part. I worked on a marina--and I can see it as well as feel it as it is a familiar condition for me.
Thanks for sharing.
love this:
but i am too fragile
my nerves rock in clumsy rows
like boats left out in storm
I love the figuration of the mind opening all drawers at once. There's a careful anxiety in this poem.
You said it. Poems come uninvited. And without labor pains.
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