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and wondering
says
no, as things are ambling along, should they, should he, get a dog, I
should, find a way to survive in San Bernardino, far enough away from Los
Angeles to be in another state, to be in Nevada or West Africa, even, which
is why I moved here. too, it is simple, nothing ostentatious, at all, my
neighbors are just living, and I'm doing more of the same but writing as
well as working and dealing with the garbage, a few cacti up on the wall
under the prayer flags. 39 years old, I wonder what and how I got here, am
I loved or am I mistaken though it all clears up with the rain or the sun
emerging, tranquil, the cities, the real cities in my mind are far, far
away & this one is perfumed this evening with southern california winter
and mud, poppies which came up after the sun came out, the sun that lives
here like a royal beast, a brocade, a memory bringing us all together, to
wonder.
M,
Where once was gravitas
now, a tree falls, into the highway, and me,I go up and down the stairs, I
figure I may as well be humble, finally under the grief of homeownership,
far from the stars, the skies I've looked to, now, it's the foundation,
seeing how the house is put together, a world away from my heart or is it
the same, a garden, a multiple thing, always, coming up from underneath,
almost always without warning, a midwinter gift, grasping, calling it love,
again, pulling the screwdriver out, the saw, the electricity
we sd. we get it
other poems you sd you understand which are more
straightforward like these guys, they're really nice are drilling into the
wall by the fridge now, makes you think, they come in from the rain,
smoking, they solve the problem, my boyfriend is into it too, gets along
great, no problem, has lots to say, it's the ordinary as complex, a comedy
where we play with chaos and the result is a solution, not an open ended
question about blossoms, a snowflake or anything, anything like that.
choosing
one’s way outside for J
inside this highland house is like my mind today, the
light is what is coming in, light but my mind simmers, it goes towards the
cinders, my bones are glowing, they are asking to open up to let movement
be the way I see the world, am I able to, go on, don't know, syllables
wander through my lips, they ground my ideas about love while my bones sink
down closer to the midwinter earth, muddy but firm, dog barking all night,
my heart was racing, blood going into and out of the ventricles in this don
season just before the year of the chicken
into emptiness
saw
all of a sudden that the colors were the same, the same grey granite, the
same orange and green, lined up differently, historically not-the-same, but
could be Buffalo, or Minneapolis or Madagascar, Italy, railroad tracks, who
is looking through the garbage, selling balloons, ice cream, cars, even my
VW Fox is here, 24 hours in the air later, running along 19th century
streets, built by slaves, how else, and the songs, and the colors, the navy
blues, the mangoes, the eggs and the bread, stacking up, making it make
sense, it drifts away
in particular
motorcycles
running through, threading through the traffic going up into the mountains,
finally, sunset, awakens calm forgotten, oranges, it's the oranges Thanks for the painting. I'm writing it
down. love k
impartiality
to come and to be impartial to blue, anything moving,
across the road near the sky, thoughts, birds and incidents, lovers, any
children, their birthdays the oceans, the old things that come back, the
new things along the street waiting to be seen, caressed, identified or
listened to like this
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