poem memorandum
poem memo
poemmemo
poememo
pomemo
poemo
poemo: noun / pōɛmō /
a written memo disguised as a poem
a written poem disguised as a memo/memorandum —
or as “business correspondence“
Author: ©️K.T.2026
Earthling, poet, crone. In planetary hospice.
memo to a particular poet
i am going to bed, now
at 7:08
to lessen the ache
of being awake
this is a poem
this is the business
of us — “artists”,
this is our “business correspondence”
inform a collaborator,
a “coworker”- if you will,
of your passwords and processes
before taking those pills
my corazón has nearly bled-out
migrating across my torso, my limbs,
and my crown
settling into my cornflower blue eyes
bloodshot — with or without, drops and disguise
corazónal ink
you imprinted on my heart,
a tattoo — concealed.
play possum
i’m fine
no, nothing’s wrong.
i just really love this song,
gives me the blues sometimes, is all.
a snake, a possum, a doe and fawn
on the roadside killed again, i saw.
i heard the breaking news story
and, i’m awfully raw,
just please ignore me.
this world can be so cruel and wicked
so,
of course, my tender heart’s afflicted.
you see my glistened eyes, lumped throat, and quivering lip
and, you think they’re for you??
well, sir or ma’am: that’s rich —
all, lies.
but also,
all true.
the sea of inez
i feel the gravity
of
the love,
the loss,
so close || this close.
almost, almost, almost
buoyed, then anchored
an internal saltwater aquifer suffusing me
with a congestive heartbreak
it, swelling and stiffening my limbs
and, i cant walk to you or anyone,
i am beached in my own body
my eyes fill my mouth, my throat
and, i can’t talk to you or anyone,
i am muted by our illicit drug
so i
swallow,
swallow,
swallow
the sea inside of me
else, i
drown, drown, drown
in it,
i am not a mermaid
i am merely a human woman
yet my belly’s pregnant
with an Ocean
and, you know that
she’s y/ours
Continue reading “the sea of inez”sleep
sleep keeps you from me
you, unconscious and at rest
with my newfound enemy:
the Succubus
she eats your dreams of me, love
that’s why you can’t remember them
then, this great Lake
like a cold floor
between our warm
twin beds in winter
get out of bed, love,
come, sail to mine,
risk it
simpler, open your hazel eyes, please
thumbs, please dance in the blue light
say more, tell more, please
anything satisfies, love,
everything does
Exposition
If ever I fall to dementia or Alzheimer’s
I might blurt out all my
deepest secrets and desires
and my darkest shames
Let me tell you my truest truths now
so you won’t feel
bewildered, surprised, stunned, shocked, repulsed, or devastated
Continue reading “Exposition”how are you?
the phone rings
i step myself off the ledge,
fall back into the window,
onto the hard floor,
crawl across the rug,
back into my bed
& answer:
oh, hello!
“…”
i’m fine, how are you?
someone
i feel like someone
you last loved on a wednesday,
earlier this week
i feel like someone who was once your intense singular joy/ but now and once again,
just an invisible naturalist, poet, neologist and crone
i feel like someone you forgot to mention the Hilma Af Klint show to
i feel like someone losing “our” intimacy
exponentially, by the second, against a shot clock in an un-united center
i feel like someone whose forehead you won’t kiss; whose hollows you’ll never touch with hands, tongue or tip; like someone who’ll never truly climax again
i feel like someone who upset you with
Dream[ing] and that’s where it all ended; like someone who never listened to your diatribe about Waco, or heard of your plane rituals and four-part fruition
i feel like someone whose mystery you’ll let be; like someone whose content was consumed without gnosis; scarfed down like cold “leftovers”
i don’t feel like someone you will walk across a frozen Lake or dry Lake bed to get to, during the apocalypse, Station Eleven-style Continue reading “someone”
Cardinal
ones
who stick
that stick
directions
virtues
numbers
sins
rules
& the hypocrites
whose pretentious cloaks
inspired the red birds’ name
cardinals are the ones
who won’t waiver
the birds who
stay
and stay
and stay
and show you
red in the green trees
red in the white snow
red in the gray rain
red in the yellow light
when
the rest
in the Great Lakes,
the Middle West
have moved on
after using/plundering
land, hearts, bodies, souls
for
migration,
they stay on
humbly
undemanding
count the red birds
count on them
they stay.
She was not a Grandmother
She was nearing 70 years, She said
She grew up poor, elsewhere, She said
And moved to a city
on the Great Lakes, She said
She had small talk
to match her limited, incurious mind
She had a wide, open mouth with sharp teeth
her ears closed
except to gossip
her eyes closed
except to covet
her biting, venomous speech
poisoning innocent, impressionable hearts
With a tail as big as a kite. With a tail as big as a kite.
she strained her eyes
what is that dark lump
in the road
traveling into her throat
Out she went
sighting the black beauty
from fifty paces
nearer, the bright blood
pooling beneath ki’s face
Did he even try to brake
or swerve?
“no”, the tracks and trees say
Maybe the driver didn’t see
the pitch black, moving body
against the snowy white, otherwise red dirt road?
Maybe ki darted out,
in front of the royal blue truck
a truck fit for a rural king
[doubt of the beneficent on Christmas]
machines
everywhere
machines
carssawsgunsplowsshipsplanesmillstractorsthrowersdozerstruckscombines
boatsturbinesrigsdredgerstrainsbargesroadsrailharborspipeshousesbridges
wellshighwayssewersstructuresquarriesreactorspowerlinesstreetslotsculde
sacsfencessatelliteslockscelltowerssignsculvertswallsdockslandfillsdams
she gently pincers the end of ki’s gorgeous black tail
gingerly pulling kin off the road
redundantly committing ki’s spirit
to the universe, aloud
with apologies for humankind, silently
purposefully committing kin’s body
to a safer spot
for mourning
and carrion feast
Ki’s body was unexpectedly heavy
full of walnuts and seeds
fat and strong for a long winter ahead
so alive just minutes ago, I saw out the window
I’m sorry
I’m sorry
for me
for my kind
for our machines
for our structures
for our carelessness
for our selfishness
for all this,
engineered, manufactured, destroyed
the falling snow christens quick
she wanted to go inside
and sob
selfishly,
because the possibility
of an aberrantly painless holyday
ceased with the dead black squirrel Continue reading “With a tail as big as a kite. With a tail as big as a kite.”
Crown
my hair holds memory,
i know this because
i cut my own hair today
as i held the ends
in my hands
i said
did you touch the Merced with me and my boy?
i said,
do you remember my father?
and my other precious loss?
i said,
do you remember the first dog?
i said,
were you here when
i still loved
and was loved?
i said,
you were there when my mother was so near death’s door
i said,
and when i found and lost,
and lost and found, my Self again?
smiles
sighs
cries
laughs
rage
wail
and
song
i still have possessions from all those times
and places,
but no skin,
my skin long shed, my bone resorbed
but my long hair is still me from many years ago
that is why hair is so precious,
i thought,
this is the genesis
of what i have always
mistook as phobia
but no,
i know today
that
physical memory is held particularly, and only, in my hair
more than Samsonian
or vanity
or femininity
my long hair
is
my body
my health
my energy
my sensation
my emotion
my years
my identity
my essence
thank you
for growing
for remembering
for showing
for staying
for flowing
for tangling
for blowing
for graying
for glowing
for floating
for knowing
with me
all these years
no more cuts
without ceremony
and,
i promise
i will never agree to lose you
One-derlust
I go weeks
months
even
without noting
your presence
or absence
but then
there You are
in my awareness again,
wandering
around in me
and then
there I am
wondering
what You are
or aren’t
[going to be]
to me
