oh, june
she crushes me
these roses warmed in her Sun
today, tomorrow, and yesterday, at least
it’s not enough
to see them, touch them,
smell them, now
i want to swallow them down warm
into my heart
and keep them forever
oh, june
Tag: love
worth
i measure my worth
in deer so at ease they’ll eat kale from the garden, less than five meters from my door
by a home-cooked meal eaten together, while still hot
in heritage Jimson weed blooms, all lemony on summer nights
& harvested, unblemished squash on autumn afternoons
in brown bats, sighted overhead at dusk from the stoop
in thriving houseplants, all properly named and specifically watered
in clean sinks, sheets, floors and birdbaths
by pages read, no matter
by the number of rabbits who see me and then, still choose to ignore my presence
in folks, walking exhausted, in heat, rain, cold or snow, who accept my offer, and climb into my truck with their groceries or booze — for a lift home
in miles walked with the dog, and in my stilled-patience as he endlessly interprets the “news” thoroughly with his nose,
in native prairie plants restored, by my own hand, New England asters, ironweed, sweetgrass, coneflower, have all the mercy,
in minutes spent on the phone with my son,
my golden boy. across two time zones
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
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 have been 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
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”
Gnostic Gospel of Transition
All light
That’s what you are
That’s what you always were
But, you’ve got to move on, now
Ready to go home, true.
They’re waiting for you.
All light,
I promise; it’s alright
the limineen | earthling, poet & crone 