One can still day dream when out of the dream,
When that one being seems glued to your skin
like plaster on a wall, while washed gloves
remain layered on velvet hands and feet.
Yours are perfect.
I have always known, perhaps–
because you are the one who visited my dreams
first, the one that pushed me along in green fields.
I saw through you;
you smiled because you knew.
You knew the passage we would take,
the nature at stake, the vows we would break…
October 24, 2013
Fill a simile with time and you’ll be granted my American in:
you’ll fly high like rain coming down, like that man
who shovels like a mountain and continues like my sister
at dawn with nothing like it used to be, who you knew–
like all that is great in this greater world– like a dog
at supper time or a grandma-like smell or a laugh sung
with sun-like light upon windows and sills, like a load of gasoline
delivered too– like, so very– slow if you know, like my mother
used to say, when I’m going to the store at like 8 AM
and sticking my finger out like a teenaged girl gone bad,
like perhaps she is 18? 19? No matter the number,
it is like we are all in but one time, like no one is watching,
and like no one is hearing our “likes” at all…
October 4, 2013
Remember that girl– it’s nice, if only
for a moment. Feeling her gaze in the right
direction, the right way, better yet seeing her
look into the mirror and smile– not sigh–
onto my bedroom floor. I can soak up
that energy with two eyes, two hands,
but only one heart.
Because I know that girl looking back
all the time– I know her all too well.
Perhaps she is raw and flat, but up and coming;
gray and aggressive, yet calm and flaunting.
She is the most brown-haired, brown-eyed girl
you’ve ever seen around these hills–
she is me.
September 17, 2012
The ocean’s tide draws nearer, now.
My toes have waited patiently, feet sink
deeper and deeper until they just give in
and submerge, never coming up for air.
The horizon ahead whispers happy thoughts
to the sun above, melting frowns off faces that forgot
to check the mirror this morning but instead plunged
in, waist deep in blue, smiling into those waves
that I now crave: my summer lullaby
sung low, in high tide.
February 6, 2012