Wednesday, March 30, 2011

A Glass of Wine in the Darkness

no one sees your tears glisten in the darkness
unless the moon is full and the past is present-
ly in the future, reach for a glass of wine 
nearby, stand tall, open the heavy
curtains and let the moon shine on
your dazzling face.

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

A Bad Margarita

 the tall man with spectacles at the bar
didn’t know how to make a margarita;
the lush sitting across from me took a
single sip and watched the ice melt into
too many ounces of margarita mix,
the cheap stuff made with corn syrup
from some farm back in Illinois subsidized
by the U.S. government to force her to
drink bad margaritas to replenish her
fluids after an evening of hot yoga.

Monday, March 28, 2011

Black dots on a page

a young man entombed in a wooden frame, 
Father tending his acre farm,
a woman and her dog watching a
man paint from a distance,
four brunettes wearing sweaters and jackets
in a chilly house, eating chocolate and pistachio
nuts, drinking tea, talking about the
girl finding the young man under the
eaves, the wife feeling as if she has
swallowed paint, a daughter
enjoying her pruning shears,
the clock ticks in the quiet room
three poets and a teacher rise
to attend the real world of children,
shopping and schedules to keep,
leaving behind small black dots
on white paper on the kitchen table.

Sunday, March 27, 2011

The Young Man in the Wooden Frame

at the top of the stairs
behind a small door only large enough
for a child to disappear into the musty interior,
he waited patiently, for her, for someone,
leaning against the rafters amidst
piles of chewed-up newspaper bits,
and dessicated mouse turds.
she crawled towards a patch of sunlight
towards the back corner, past tattered school notebooks
filled with exquisite cursive penmanship,
stacks of old bills with stamped letterhead
towards a young man frozen in time,
now a mere collection of silver spheres
arranged across a yellowing canvas.
they sat there together in the shimmering dust
in the heat of summer under the eaves
as best friends do until her mother called
her back to cookies and play dates
and other such things.

Saturday, March 26, 2011

Poem Anxiety

Monday is the day after tomorrow.
they will come here, wine in hand to relieve my anxiety
that I must offer something on paper, composed of
letters, words, perhaps even sentences with occasional
punctuation marks as they will offer theirs so
well formed and beautifully arranged on the page
with deft usage of image and words that I perhaps
cannot understand and sit speechlessly.
Let it be a large bottle of wine, to drink, then
to capture my free-floating anxiety.

Thursday, March 24, 2011


they were away
while I baked, knowing full well I was
tempting them with chocolate, sugar, butter, baked to the
most exquisite crispy brown on the outside, melted delirium on the inside,
the aroma filling the house waiting for them
I took down the glasses for cold milk
and hid the scale in the basement for
another day.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Small Revelations

in that room, I spoke
words only for your ears
that listen so intently, without judgment,
as solid as a stone in a rushing river,
beautifully worn over our time together,
by my words which flow over, around and through
over months, years, decades of listening,
you only pause to reach over to touch my hand
or caress my cheek.

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Spring in Boulder: Spring in Japan

the mountains are shrouded in frosty
clouds bang against my window as I sleep
restlessly, only waking to see my neighbor
tumble across the road from his car, the man
from Namibia can’t pedal fast enough,
even the small plants of spring are battered
by plastic sheet ripped from the carefully
tilled soil, now shredding the small life
beneath them, such is the story of this season.

Monday, March 21, 2011


they schemed while sitting at the picnic bench
over lunch, eating some cottage cheese delicately balanced
on the container cover, an apple, one small cookie
as a reward for eating healthy, somehow missing
that hate is an unhealthy state on such a sunny day.
out on the picnic table,
two women spitting poison between them
rapid-fire, claws being sharpened on their
acid tongues, all while the unfortunate target
sits blissfully unaware in a sunny location
that fits her personality, oblivious to the 
winds of bitterness blowing across the land.

Sunday, March 20, 2011

Daisy in the Golden Room

a rabbit with golden ears
licks my blue jeans not knowing
what else to do in these days
and nights of old age.
glassy blue eyes that no longer see,
her small groans and gentle
sighs punctuate the night
waking me from a light sleep
like that of a new mother
not yet sure her new baby
will get through the night.

Friday, March 18, 2011

Sorting Laundry

whites go with whites
darks with darks
carefully selected from an ever growing colorful pile of laundry
except the well worn jeans can go with
the whites after all they’re on top of
the pile which dwindles so
much more rapidly
if no sorting is

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Her Garden

he and the carpenter stood together in the back yard
discussing the future of her garden, the position of
the berry brambles that tended to lean over the stone
path leading to the backyard, whether the tin roof
should be replaced with cheap plastic that would let
the sun in until it turned yellow and stained.
she would never forgive them when the berries
no longer draped themselves over the stones
as offerings from the gods, when the tapping
of rain drops was against cracked plastic that
needed to be replaced every five years, the
shards decorating some distant landfill.
this is her garden of flowers scattered among
the stones, where black ravens bow their heads
to drink clear water amidst irises pushing up
from a long winter sleep.

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

The Crooks in the Financial Sector

Sum$ of money flowing from my taxes
to the U.S. Dept of the Treasury
for the bailouts for the millionaires
now resting in one of their five homes
as they retire from their strenuous
undertakings defrauding the American
taxpayers, may they rot in hell.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Japan Catastrophy vs What's Trending Now

homes now heaps of broken timber
streets canals of mud and debris
broken hearts, screaming for those
that cannot be found, perhaps never found,
nuclear plants on the brink of meltdown.
we watch for a bit and get back
to our real concerns, what’s trending now
Alyssa Milano, Snooki or Clint.
Break from the crowd: Donate now:

Monday, March 14, 2011

Prompt (Ana): Green: The Man from Namibia II

When the Chinook winds blow
from the west he starts riding to nowhere
while I sleep fitfully against an acoustic backdrop
of groaning tree trunks, wildly jangling wind chimes,
the sirens of fire trucks woohwaah in their search
for the non-existent entrance to our neighborhood.
his green flag whips in the wind, his wheels
wobble as they spin; in all this din all he can do
is helplessly spin in the wind, like so many
tumbleweeds rolling this way and that
across the lonely highway.

Friday, March 11, 2011

The Insurance Man

he looks like the insurance man
you always wanted to feel safe with,
kind faced with grey hair, a traditional gold
wedding band gracing his large hands,
he leans his head back as he gazes
at the computer screen, a dead give-way
he is sporting bi-focals, as expected.
he stays late on a Friday night just
to accommodate your procrastination
over the last three years, recognizing
that if you don’t do it now, you
never will, regretting it deeply when
flood waters fill your basement,
your newly baked chocolate chip cookies
burning in the oven as you head for
high ground.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

To E.M.

she looks so familiar
after twelve years in a way
never before recognized in
the roundness in her face, her soft
cheeks, thin brown hair,
that mysterious smile that
draws millions of visitors
a year yet I get her to myself
here in the late afternoon
where we talk as always
but this time I see her in
a different light.

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Doing Science

the experiment did not go as planned
and I wondered if science betrayed me
or my mind just could not comprehend
its beauty so close I could feel the humming
inside my skull waiting to wake up
in the morning to meet it again.

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Three Glasses

one glass shared with a girlfriend
at Laudisio, a Malbec squeezed in between
two middle aged men ogling her,
their wedding rings glinting

one glass shared over buckwheat noodles
with spicy sesame sauce after our eyes
stop crying over onions and other
undisclosed sorrows

one glass shared on a winters night
when one thinks hopefully of spring, of
daffodils, only to reluctantly
unlock the bike on a snowy night
to ride home in darkness.

Monday, March 7, 2011

Renovation: Casey Middle School

the cracked cement patio squares from the front of the school are gone,
replaced by eco-friendly, but unidentifiable, paving materials

a cold wind out of the west no longer blows loose papers across the library,
double-paned, e-star windows keep the library cool in summer, warm in winter

the front door closes behind itself securely and there are no extra keys circulating among
mischievous students who would break it at night to remove all the blackboard chalk

the Mexican kids still congregate on the north side by the soccer field
and the Caucasians to the south closer to the parking lot where mom drops them off

until the bell rings and black and white, Hispanic, asian all melt into
a continuous stream heading inside. 

Sunday, March 6, 2011

Tangled Limbs

stuffed into two seats
in the back row where
there is no recline

nor place to put your feet
as the carts roll by
the endless stream of
passengers stumbling
over our feet on their way
to the loo

and so we entangle
arms over shoulders,
 legs over thighs,
feet under bags for two
endless hours, finally
standing on senseless feet,
with crooked necks, the
last ones to wave good-bye
to the cheery stewardess.

Friday, March 4, 2011

a child on a man's shoulders

they faced away from us towards the river,
each ripple shimmering in reflected light.
we knew their eyes were bright watching the
ducks dancing nearby, her arms reaching out
to touch them from high up on his shoulders
until he lifts her from his shoulders and then
holds her close by the water, her small arms
still reaching to the ducks, calling them,
the light shimmering on the water, the ducks
and the man and the girl all one in the night
as we watched from above.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Found Object:s: Condoms

still packaged
in blue, pink and red wrappers
left behind for whom, I wonder
as I put them into a small pile
next to the plastic democratic elephant
and the cheap silver painted earrings.
will they come back to get them, I wonder,
noting that in the hot afternoon sun on the sill
they would soon be baked and I’m not ready
to be a grandmother.
still packaged, I swept them into the
trash bin.  there’s more where those
came from, I’m sure.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

A Hard Working Dog

at night he collapses with exhaustion
after a hard day’s work pulling his weight
in this household of bums, those two-legged
slackers who sigh as they go off to their easy jobs
leaving him to guard the house, bark at the mailman,
keep the couch warm, watch his little sister, all
that after carrying the little red plastic fire hydrant
stuffed with poopie bags, how embarrassing.

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

On the Table

relaxed under a sheet
on a warm heating pad
his hands caressing me with skill,
nothing in return but a credit card
after the session
how simple,
how lovely.