N  a  p  a  l  m      H  e  a  l  t  h      S  p  a         R  e  p  o  r  t     2  0  0  5



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.










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





















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