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Archive for July, 2014

Just Sayin’

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , on July 19, 2014| 2 Comments »

all those stars
not a single one
out of place
but your hand, darling,
belongs right here

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The Dream I Woke With

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , on July 17, 2014| 2 Comments »

in my red briefcase
no notebook, no calendar,
no laptop, no pen

only stones, rocks, dust
the things I know will last

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Who Knows What’s Inside the Seeds?

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on July 16, 2014| 2 Comments »

after knocking on so many doors,
beggar’s bowl in hand, I put down
the empty bowl, and my hands
lost their desire to knock
and began to plant a garden instead

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Walking on the Road

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , on July 16, 2014| 2 Comments »

rain comes at last
and wrings the air clean
and every green thing greens—
so little of what I do
is important

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Reversing Leda

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on July 15, 2014| 2 Comments »

It never belonged to me,
the blue heron. At least not
in the way that one might own
a sweater or a tea cup or a car.
Still, I had that feeling of ownership,
the kind that one has when
she finds wild berries growing
in her yard and eats them by the purple handful,
giddy with her good luck. Or the feeling
you might have when the marigolds bloom,
and because you have planted them
from seed you feel in some way responsible
for the mounds of yellow and orange.
Not that I was responsible for the heron,
stoic and elegant standing in the shallows or
rising slowly as it did above the river on great
blue wings, though I did take it personally
each time I saw it, and I did love to give
it my whole attention, stilling my body
and following it with my eyes,
as if through appreciation I could create
a greater connection, a connection that went
beyond woman and bird.
It is so funny, this longing to own
what we adore, to call it ours. My love,
my darling, my precious, my dear.
This morning, after a year without seeing
a single blue heron, I found one resting
on a branch outside my front door.
We were both equally startled, though it
moved first, gathering air in its angles,
reaching away from me with its neck,
disappearing beyond the tops of the cottonwood trees.
As always, I gave it everything I had to offer—
the only things I really own, my adoration,
my attention, my gratitude, my wonder.

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Going Camping with Audrey Hepburn

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on July 15, 2014| 3 Comments »

It is not fancy, the campground,
with the bathroom down the road.
Gravel covers the tent site,
and the number 13 hangs akimbo off
the fence that was once painted brown.
I’m embarrassed to bring Audrey here,
but she sits at the red picnic table
in her simple black dress and diamond tiara
and sips her tea, looking at me over the cup
with her enormous doe eyes and she says
in a voice equal parts romantic and matter of fact:
“Everyone wants to be loved, don’t we?
Everyone looks for a way of finding love.
It’s a constant search for affection
in every walk of life.”

The box elder beetles are not as bad
this year as they were two years ago.
Still, they seem to be everywhere
and one climbs across the table
toward Audrey’s tea. She laughs
and brushes its red body away. I want to tell her
yes, yes I want to be loved. And
I have done terrible things in the name
of love, never wanting to hurt anyone.
But I am too nervous to treat her
like a friend. I have her on a pedestal,
though I am beginning to sense
that it is getting in the way. She senses it, too.
“I never think of myself as an icon,”
she says. “What is in other people’s minds
is not in my mind. I just do my thing.”

A low rider goes by on the dirt road
beside us, and Eminem smacks the air
with more talk about his mother.
I don’t know why it makes both of us laugh,
but we do, perhaps just because it is fun
to laugh. A mosquito lands in the middle
of her forehead, and I hesitate before
giving Audrey a slap, but I do.
And knock over her tea. What is there
to do but offer to make her another cup.
She says yes, and slaps me back.

“When you have nobody you can make
a cup of tea for, when nobody needs you,
that’s when I think life is over,” she says.
God, she is beautiful, I think, looking
straight into her eyes. That’s how I notice
the pedestal is lower, now. Before
I could not see how clear they were,
star-piercing, twin doors long since opened
by love knocking from the inside.

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Though I Don’t Really Believe in Fairies, Still …

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on July 12, 2014| 2 Comments »

fairy house on the san miguel

Will it work? says the girl,
when I hand her the magic dust
to sprinkle on the fairy house we’re building
out of sticks and stems and rocks.

Why wouldn’t it work? I say, dropping
more of the tiny red weed seeds
into her open hand. She doesn’t argue with me then,
only keeps her hand extended so I will sprinkle

more magic dust into her palm.
I can tell she doesn’t totally believe me.
I can tell that I wish she did. Oh the sad advent
of being purely practical. I am open

to believing improbable things.
I am tired of math and the same problem
never adding up. I could use a little magic.
I don’t mind if I need to make it up myself.

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I Pushed Him Away

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on July 11, 2014| 4 Comments »

I pushed him away
until the loneliness in me
recognized the loneliness

in him, two awkward birds
still afraid of sky

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Look Around

Posted in Uncategorized on July 10, 2014| Leave a Comment »

and for your amusement … I made a video of my first alphabet menagerie poem in honor of the illustrator Lian Canty’s opening of her work in Crested Butte tonight. I sure wished I could have been there in person …

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There’s an Orchard Down There

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on July 10, 2014| 1 Comment »

driving past that dirt road
my mind takes the turn
while my body goes sixty

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