KI AND PI

Ki and Pi.

Combined you represent

my greatest loitering times.

Double Libra to balance out

my double braided mess.

With you all I am a wrapped up column

expired lust morphed into

something better – a sister of sorts,

a good right hand man.

Ki and Pi.

The boys in black

with small slant script.

Pioneers of loathing, certainty

and I’m the loudmouth driver here.

Ki navigates with daisy gestures

and Pi just says “this way is right”.

Combined we don’t 

stay lost for long. 

COUNTRY SONG

Wanna know the feeling

of waiting for a girl

to come along

and make me better  -

the paper flower plant

is curling like onions

the rain is back

and making songs

as comforting as rice - 

wanna know the feeling

of never being ready

until you are

FAR OUT

bruised beyond dirt
because dirt
would feel good
bending, shoveling
anything but dust
swimming out into
the lake of complaint
so far past the rope
that no life guard
can care to care
that’s the depth
I fear you flail in
that’s the depth
I dare not go

NORTHERN PERSON THAT I AM

Here, at my country’s corner
here, at my country’s edge - 
dream of a cloud carrying icicles
that drop into the sea,
make waves too big
to run from.
The earth, she’s just 
a rocky mound, 
cobalt poured 
into her cracks 
and crevices
until she's
barely there. 

CLIMBING TO LOOKOUT

Prettier here
out in the ice,
the blue of the world
eating my way
through the deer trail
hot with the incline
hot from escape

RETURNING

The place is a longing vessel, a grandfather house that we give fake tours in, mix eggs in coffee mugs, and other snacks. The kids throw grass into the sky and let the clumps rain dirt. There is always a dip in comfort, serotonin – because the place is of incarnation, and you and I and we are bodies just embodying. Leaves and snow, dead animals on the road, green Kmart long john. There will always be new things. Signs to tell you how. She will have her baby in June, you will be a great-grandmother. For the birthday there will be: cake and pie and ice cream. All piled on top of each other?
If I came back I would go to church, learn to sing, be a lighter martyr –
a stretcher – standing tall next to the cauldron and serving up
huge portions. 

EASTER BRUNCH

Today was Easter, so we wore 
pastels to work, served eggs, coffee, 
waffles, balanced little syrups 
and cups of butter, turned our palms 
to the heavens, arms loaded 
and levitating.

A lot of people were dressed 
like flowers today - 
the choir came in and sang 
hallelujah, we stuffed bills into 
our aprons, cleared each other’s tables, 
smiled across the room to catch
the grass-sun-power
drifting through.

Even the parking lot looked 
glorious, so we  took our drinks 
out there, looked at each other 
in the total light, 
for once. 

Omega

Years ago I thought I might hide in the pantry
as my children burst through the door
shouting for pudding snacks.
Now, seeing your splotchy face, teeth stretching out for air,
your eyes averting mine,
I know to fear a smothering love
that might take me over,
as I try to peel the stripes from your shirt.

The numbers fleeing your mouth
-small, grimacing-
 are
a forest of fog.
One mind at a time
the titles say,
but you could one day be
a Man in a Meeting
and the gutter punks drink church coffee
outside my apartment door.

Dough folded into notes
your mother passes from the back of the kitchen
grow your hair out long-
shutter the gates tomorrow -
Plump lips,
pillowy ears
passed down to you,
pressed on to you
in some cloud before time.

East

In the stairwell
with pearls:
your heaving
your lost inventory
your secret taxi routes
your park bench days.
I'd outline
the shape of you
in india ink
if you weren't so paranoid.

Anchor

Are you out there with your

soft hair and hair brush?

We sat by the creek but it was too loud to hear each other.

We walked arm in arm through meadows.

We rolled on carpets, cleaned nightly by men.

I loved your lisp

the last time I saw you, when i didn't know how to be proper.

It made you seem like an old friend, new.

You were a master of: the sloppy bun,

stepping on the backs of my shoes 

as we headed back in from the yard,

reporting to me from the table just feet 

away from where I sat

the purple eyeshadow makes it look like someone punched you.

Now you are a mother

I think.

Before you came over, I made a list 

of reasons why we should be friends

and you thought it was strange 

that my house had no curtains.