Friday, September 23, 2016

the everyday

I went to work
listening to the latest commentary on Hillary versus Trump
as the wheels of my bike turned round and round
like the wheels on the bus
I loved that song.
I smeared peanut butter into a slot cut out of plastic sheet
to simulate smearing silicone adhesive into a 3-d printed
template on the surface of a heat pipe
deep inside a telescope.
they may laugh at me, but I saved them money.
Fast spinning asteroids don't pull apart -
just like columns of flour don't collapse.
we know this from experiments on the kitchen table.
when the propane tank is empty, the salmon didn't cook anymore.
the flute exercises are hard and discourging so I take lots
of breaks and write poetry.

Thursday, September 22, 2016

Empowering Women

we are empowered to wear ridiculously tight jeans
and high heels for all our outfits,
from stillettos for suits 
wedge sandals for summer
and high heeled boots for fall
we are liberated with our beautiful calves
and tight butts, our aching backs,
bunions and corns on our feet
all in the name of womens' lib we
compete with each other for the best botox,
how many colors we can weave through our hair,
makeup and face lifts
we are so beautifully liberated.

Wednesday, September 21, 2016

the art of calligraphy, the beauty of a name

I scribbled my name
illegibly with my beloved fountain pen
I bought it in Paris.
he cradled his cheap ball point pen,
waving it in the air like a conductor working
her orchestra, the glitter of her gown
temporarily blinding us
thus I watched him, transfixed
as the tip of his pen touched the paper
in great circular motions to form 
the first letter of my given name,
my name, which had never seemed so
beautiful as then, finishing with a 
grand flourish, releasing his pen
from paper at the same moment
as the conductor
lowered her baton 
to roaring applause.

Tuesday, September 20, 2016

three x three

very short poems
use few words
late at night

Monday, September 19, 2016

on being lesbian

I wouldn't know but I read about it
in a poetry book,
about a woman wearing 6 inch stilletto heels
on the arm of her white butch.
she was beautiful, the sheen of her black skin
dark against a glittering white sheath gown.
the whole room turned and gaped
in the biggest small town between
Chicago and L.A.
I would have stared, too,
breaking away from my white balding husband.
I know what he looks like 24/7
and I still love him.
But that would have been something to
imagine them together, the white butch
and her black lover, skin on skin under
flashing lights, who knows what they
could do.

Sunday, September 18, 2016

Droplets on Saran wrap

how amazing.
and mysterious
that the condensed droplets near the 
edge of the bowl were so tiny
(steam having risen up from within,
each molecule landing on the inner surface,
migrating across to join another and another,
forming islands of droplets,
I want to know why the middle ones are bigger,
it must because the molecules are more mobile
perhaps the molecules close to the bowl edges
are chilly, a cold breeze blowing off 
the glass bowl.

Friday, September 16, 2016

Dictator and Slave

the house is cleaner
because I am the only one who can walk.
the piles of clothes and pillows, books, phone,
computer, and assorted various
have one less vector to spread them throughout.
I pick up after myself when it's just my clutter
for reasons unknown.
As dictator, I feed him what I think he should have, and how much.
As slave, I feed him what he needs, how much he wants and when he needs it.
I do the dishes and pick up before work
and after dinner.
he's starting to move out of the bed and 
pillows, and lawn chairs are migrating,
papers are showing up on the floor 
and my time as dictator and slave may be ending.
I'll kind of miss it.