Saturday, January 31, 2009

"What`s that noise up the stairs, babe?
Is that Christmas morning creaks?
&I said I know it well,
I know it well."

Friday, January 23, 2009

The Nap

Red cap, red cap, red cap,
Snug on your curled hair.

Blue eyes, brown eyes, green eyes,
All close eventually, lashes flutter.

Red plaid, red plaid, red plaid,
Loose round your soft waist.

Folded hands, folded hands, folded hands,
‘Cross your murmuring chest.

Blue jeans, blue jeans, blue jeans.
Sun-faded and torn on a barbed wire fence.

White shoes, white shoes, white shoes,
Mildewed laces dribbled in rain-puddles.

Lazy hammock, lazy hammock, lazy hammock,
Inspired the taciturn dreamer to sleep.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

lest we forget...

Dear G,
Welcome home! We`re so glad you made it. Now, please get some rest.
Breakfast will be waiting in the morning.

Wednesday, January 14, 2009


I want to be famous in the way a pulley is famous,
or a buttonhole, not because it did anything spectacular,
but because it never forgot what it could do.
-Naomi Shihab Nye (B. 1952)

Saturday, January 3, 2009


We forget the need &the desire &the comfort of communal solitude. how it comes so easily to our little bones to stay &work &work&work-ad nauseum.
but you wake up a little bit too early, &drop off your dear at the plane station [you secretly hope it leaves without them], &drive back home, &fall back asleep.
&wake up again.
then you drive&drive&drive some a significantly inconsequential town that had a winning high school baseball team in 1999 or 2000. &you make jokes about the paved road in the middle of the red, packed down dirt-clay road that "someone had gotten a little too ambitious over."
&then you wait&wait&wait for a greying Vietnam veteran to explain to you that wolves are not, in fact, agressive. &then you watch one jump on your little sister. because she had gum in her pocket.
&then you walk&walk&walk to the coons, foxes, &skunks. &it has been overcast all day, &secretly you have been worrying that it is going to start pouring and ruin your shoes.
&then you sit down and someone hands you a skunk. So you hold her. Because she is sleepy. [&for the most part, she does not smell bad.]
&most of this time you are wondering how your plane-flying dear is.
But then you remember how you are.
So you ask the woman if it`s legal to own a pet skunk.
"In Florida..."