I am pieces of quotes
From my favorite books
Stitched together by midnight conversations
And the sweet taste of Tea
I have this tendency
to fall apart suddenly
And i need you to be okay with this
Because am created by the souls
Who are brave enough
To gather all my tattered pieces
And put me back together!
A lost girl who can't find her way home?
A small girl crushed by words?
A strong emotionless woman who let's no one near her heart?
A strong girl who rips away the pain with blood and tears?
Am I Seran?
Am I Sevar?
Am I Sabrina?
Am I Casanna?
In the end
I'm all of them
Put into one small girl
But am I really all of them?
Or just one of them?
If so, which one am I?
Or am I someone else?
I don't know who I am?
Music from the church
at this distance, I will hear
only blended souls.
What would Gang of Four
say about this construction
between me and freeze?
Against unhappiness
paprika on potato
contends to the taste.
An intimate act
summoning optimism
that I’ll see the moon.
Not so much the wind
as the shutter cord’s tapping,
the ebb of sirens.
Mill that fine, grinders!
Out of this nightfall
two white trucks nose-to-nose, or
were they always there?
Two young women kiss
and just so, the storm passes…
the laughter and glass.
All my life I dreamed
of glory but I don’t know it
sitting awake.
Raindrops fill a pond
in the parking lot, size of
a lake, to an ant.
The edge of the storm
black, moving fast to the north,
sunlight past the hill.
Ice cream, 2 am
If the barrel rolls
and goes unmissed until spring
was it ever lost?
In wisteria,
the remains of a feline
she dies when we die
Hot sauce on pizza
the man’s wife died this morning,
chatter in Russian
The lost magician,
our supervisor runs out
to give directions.
I had not wanted
to give up on this ball-point,
almost New Year’s.
Black dog on a leash
This particular
shifting of the rain, I am
just in time for it.
Lemon-drop lamp
and its wavering life
reflected in the chai.
Scrawlings, backwards,
in the glass, in the sun,
downtown escalator
Red clouds catching sun,
the hole at Sixth Avenue
dark in minutes.
“Red cells save lives”
reads the bus for the blood drive–
black letters on white.
It’s happened again
Might this crane, stilled,
suggest a cat at attention,
triangular head?
Left hand like a starfish
watch it long enough, sensibly,
it may move an arm.
One cedar tree branch
bent like a worm, much older
than this argument
They call the busman
“driver”–that formality
cracks in my own throat.
Thick plaid headgear,
brown beard, thick glasses–a voice
like the end of the world.
She waves, the bus goes,
Summer sets…
stuffed red wagon
left at the curb
Summer sets…
toddlers churn
through the wading pool
Summer sets…
sweat on my left wrist dries
faster than my right
Summer sets…
fire truck howls
like a hollow tooth
From a sunken throne,
potentate breathes
in bubbles
Reticence
I lie still…
game breeze
combs my hair
I’m a poor host–
some of my books
can’t stand up straight
Rain…?
Or just wind
clacking the leaves?
Slow July…
water pauses
in the sink
Downtown Jesus…
spiderweb,
cheek to shoulder
Lying flat…
How might we know
when a star dies?
(they leave their lights on)
She giggles
at her grey pubic hair
through new glasses
An old film…
the youth’s curly leg hair
vanishes mid-thigh
An ambulance waits…
little girl rides a scooter
in ellipses
Coke bottles
clink in his square basket…
pedaling home
He pressure-washes
into the windstorm…
prancing spray-ghosts
Tuscon
Tiny the child,
sunscreen smooth on his cheeks
like clown white
Grateful, at last, at
(farting my way through Thursday)
…enforced hermitude
Like a taffy pull,
bumblebee clung to one side
of the clover
How forlorn,
the truck’s rumble
without the truck
Imagination
disconnected, I tune
in to the night
Profundities,