The One

Maya
Anyango Story—
Your birth overcame the odds.
Any other couple may have turned back

After two rounds of egg extraction
Not yielding more than five possibilities.
Your egg became the only option.
Any other couple may have turned back.
Number of eggs: one.
God smiled down on us;
One egg was enough.

So here you are,
Tenacious one.
One egg conceived when it seemed impossible.
Rejoice in your life, little one;
You are the reason we didn’t turn back.

—29 Apr 23

A Moment for Life

We’re only holding on.

I struggle between
Grace {my soul} nearly dismembered
Shivering from drugs and shock
Needing someone else’s blood to try to stop the machines from

beep

ing

And
Maya {her name is Maya} barely knowing
Crying from a brutal separation
Needing someone else’s touch to try to stop the hunger—

So much suffering for such a happy occasion.

And we call this the miracle of life.
We call this the special joy and
The blessing.
Congratulations, it’s anxiety!
Best wishes.
Go home.
We need this bed now.

The line that separates life and death is almost non-existent.

-14 Apr 23

Poetry

I can write poetry and
do all the time if
only in my head. It
often doesn't make it out.

I can create lines at
the drop of a hat.
Just like that.
But, if you dropped your
hat, I would likely reach
to pick it up for you
and not
waste your time with
poetic ramblings.

That's the thing
                              about idioms.

If you told me, “I
need nine poems from you
by Thursday,”
I'd pick up my pen and
write until Friday, because
I'm not good
                               with deadlines.

But sure, nine poems
or ninety-nine, no
problem.

I can write about what is around right now:

          poems titled:

          Trash (or, Plastic Pickup)
          Parked Cars (or, Serenity Standing By)
          City Tree (or, Loneliness) (or, Isolation)
          School Crossing Sign (or, Don't Shoot)
          Lamppost (or, Post, Electric)
          Front Stoop (or, Safe)
          Walton Avenue (or, One Way to Go)
          Construction Barriers (or, Cuidado)
          The Number Four (or, Parking Spot) (or, Subway?)

What depth might be explored?
What humanity illuminated?
What ink arranged?
Meaning conflated?

The trick
                   is getting it out.

Darn me

Ignite the air around me

Gasoline
          I can't breathe

Vapors sweet and
                    noxious

          Head is floating but
Body is heavy

               Leave me on this earth
Like a worn out sock
     Stretched beyond my limit

(w)Hol(e)y in the wrong ways

          Feet in
                    Toes our
Ankle hairs itching

     Defeated


I embrace the love that once was
In order to love again

Feelings

What we share
the rain     the air
the way the wind goes dancing through your hair

the doubt     the fear
the feeling when you're near
the sound of heartbeats pounding in your ear

the rainy day
the pain    delayed
the hate that anyone might feel betrayed

the smell of time
the sense of wine
the way it feels to call somebody mine.

(22 Aug 18)

The Invitation

Caught in a moment where
                                        my self
had separated from
                             my body,

    perhaps only slightly, and
  perhaps imperceptibly. You
invited me to take part whenever---

not to even call ahead.

                                    But
I was too undone to say
much more than
                         thanks.

(28 Nov 17)

It's not my fault

   It's not my fault
      The racism of others
The greed
         The hate—

            These things I did not create.

   I am not THEM.



               and yet...

Here I bear the mark of Cain
Born of a system that oppresses Others

   for no GOOD reason.

   I tip toe
         I guard
I let others speak

   Does oppression of self (ac)count for anything?

Wait!
   I have been oppressed, too!
The System™ oppresses everyone.

Is the argument that I get to CHOOSE
         to be oppressed?
That true oppression means
      LACK of CHOICES?

I wish I had the money to prove you wrong.
All I can do is create art.

Titania

Let me swim inside your sweetness for a while,
Basking in the glory of your smile,
Chanting little praises in your ear;
In these arms you have no fear.
Let me stroke the softness of your cheek—
A midsummer's dream; I might yet gleek.
You, fairy princess, and I, the ass.
(I know, you'd say I have more class.)
Let us sit in fields of flowers and gaze.
In dew-dripped ground, in golden rays,
These days will seem so long, too short.
That's how it is when spirits court.

Bully

What is there to argue?
You already think you've won.
No sense in wasting breath,
Except you won't stop your bulldozer,
And you seem to be mistaken
On the definition of consent.

Why do you need to argue?
You already know you're right,
Although your statements are untrue
And your morals don't seem good.
Are you hearing what the world is saying?
Are you open to some change?

It's said to “be the change you want to see.”
Is what you want to see just more disharmony?

Cold Pint

Eggs and cream frozen into confection
Eliciting confession in flavored bliss
Mint presents cool but not that fake green kind
Which lies and says that anything green must be good

The mint is balanced by the crunch of
Cookies
Chocolate
Creamy
Feeling a bit forbidden
Perhaps even salty amongst the sugary sweet
The frozen feast

I am eaten in one directly from the container
Forcing warm tear-covered hands to ice over
Providing comfort where others have failed

Perhaps I can be their one true friend

Scene on a Set of Stairs

She in her red dress.
She in her black top.
She and she sharing space and
Atoms.

She with her energy.
She with her strength.
She and she in each other and
The world.

She in her insecurity.
She in her apology.
She and she politely living and
In love.

Antipathy

We washed and dried the last full load
As night washed out the day.
Our silence felt like warmth between
The walls of green and grey.
We danced there once among the stars,
Two fire lights at play.
Between the curtains, books, and keys,
None knew you would betray.

These longed-for nights of quiet bliss,
The moonlight on the bay,
The shelves I built and gave to you,
The candles in the tray,
The hopeful days before the storm
That caused you once to stray—
All these things could not have known
That you would walk away.

How could that silence feel so right
When all we knew would fray?
You strayed again and more again
Until you would not stay.
You snuffed the flames that fed our love.
Was that the only way?
How could we dance then? How could we
Have nothing left to say?

Electric Blue

The electric-blue-haired goddess smiled yellow sunbeams down,
Down on wherever she looked: on
The ruddy-bearded men in cloth hats,
Tirelessly working; on
The fair and dark children in summer dresses and overalls,
Fearlessly laughing; on
The mothers and fathers leaning on tree trunks,
Whispering, knowing; on
The young lovers tripping through the forest paths,
Breathless, gay; on
The grey-headed elders with their canes and candies,
Humming, waiting.
All these, she smiled on, giving blessing to thought and comfort to pain,
Granting wishes and hoping for change,
Singing silently and praying earnestly.
All these she smiled to, she lifted up beyond the heavens,
Where human minds only hope to wander.
All these she lifted up in joy and harmony,
Electric-blue hair, and love.

Star Maps

Counting the stars from my Los Angeles balcony—
Nine, I think, tonight;
Just enough for one constellation or
Two, if you're creative.
There are one or two stars
Only seen if you
Remember where they might be.

There is the off-chance you're hallucinating.

Tonight's constellation is Poodle,
After the canine god of Beverly Hills—
Ferociously pouffy.

Remember planets shouldn't twinkle.
Horizon is misleading—
There are towers upon the unseen mountains.
A tribe in Costa Rica saw a postcard from New York and said
They lined up all the stars in
Neat little rows:
Their understanding of cities.

Remember the moving lights are airplanes.

From where I am those stars of Poodle
Point south toward those hollow hills
Where fame and fortune fashion
Empty lives.
After all,
The poodle without fur is just another dog.

Remember stargazing as a youngster—
Backs upon the dewy lawn;
Cool summer nights,
Carefree and wistful,
In the woods away from cities,
Far from pollution—a purer place;
Imagining why ancients thought that
Dippers looked like bears;
Hoping that the bears would know to stay away,
Excited that they might not;
Hoping that a girl you liked would
Like to stargaze too.

Remember that you're hoping still.

An empty person is just waiting to be filled.


22aug15

Alike

Synonyms are an interesting thing in that two words which are the same are really not.
“Quiet” lacks the static of “silence”,
As “unnerved” lacks the crinkle of “disquieted”.
“Laugh” is quite pedestrian beside “chuckle”, “titter”, “giggle”, “guffaw”, and “roar”;
Though “roar” can also be like “yell” or “bellow” or “shout”.
“Rain” can be a “downpour” or a “drizzle”,
And “sleep” can be “repose” or simply “rest”.
Though alike, they carry different weights and measures,
Different characters and tones.
There is “green”, but each shade has its own purpose on the painter's palette,
As each word has on the speaker's;
“Chartreuse” and “forest” and “olive” each color the world in its own way,
Just as the humans who created them.
All alike, yet unique.

Monday, December 29, 2014

To Cassandra.

Flying over Kansas, I
Thought of you down there
Enjoying your holidays while I
Went off to enjoy mine. I
Thought of how funny it would be to
Interrupt yours by
Diverting the plane, but
Thought you and/or the TSA would
Not approve.
Hope you're having fun!

Us in Alaska

standing in the arctic wind I'm
wrapped with insecurities like you're
wrapped up in your scarf;
perhaps it un-becomes me.

meaning only kindness but I'm
leaning out of balance as you're
leaning on his arm;
seems to be the chill.

landing on a light-shy truth I'm
bundled fraying nerves while you're
bundled in your coat
a hundred cares away.

so you could

I endured the ordeal of your mama's death

       so you could have an affair.

I held your hand through E.R. trips

       so you could say you don't care.

I moved with you so far away,

I did some work for little pay,

I helped you find a job you like

       so you could take a hike.

(dec 2013)

Adages

Start running when you wake up
Not to make up for lost time, but to
Get a jump on the time that is now.
The time you've lost
Is the cost of admission.
No permission is needed, just be prepared to ask for
Forgiveness.
Live necessarily, out of necessity.
Find breathlessity.
Your moments become vivider.
Live less livider.
Contentment is less bentment,
But get bent when it's
Meant for good.
You're in charge of that, it's understood.
Live life to the fullest, but
Don't be the foolest.
Yes, sometimes you'll be the elf;
No mess unmesses itself.
The penny you save might mean
The day you don't shave.
It could get worse, but
The universe has got you
Even when you've not.

Stopped time

I said that I had a wandering faith
That weekday night we closed the bar and
Accidentally went on that date together.
At some point you said you wanted to marry a Jew.
Am I close enough? I wondered to myself as we
Sipped our whisky, yours Irish and mine American.
Your faith wanders, too, you said.
I thought we might wander together a while, but
You had other plans.