Homeness/Grace

Homeness

And there is one place, a small space
that deserves the name home.
Here: you, me
the homeness of us.

Grace

On days when:
my pants are too short
my feet are too big
I have all the wrong words


I think of the beauty of imperfection.

Yin I & II

Yin I

I am a white moon
cold, suspended in black
dreaming of the dawn.

There are sad stories
hidden in my bones, my blood
now, will you listen?

Yin II

I'm all
off-balance, out of sync
the cold moon side of me taking over

I'm so
incomplete, empty-handed
my feet stepping just out of rhythm

It's very
dangerous, peculiar
how dark, how dizzying the world is
when you are gone
I'm afraid

Thanksgiving Day/The Question

Thanksgiving Day

It smells like autumn
down by the corner store
I linger just long enough
to miss home.

The Question

And the question, no--the Question is:
What nonchalant adventures
what lazy, meaningful afternoons
what wild conversations
what poignant moments
what is IT, really, that everyone else is so engaged in, while I flit about, gripping my to-do lists, my comfort, my pen, with white-knuckled angst?

What door should I be knocking on? Where is Inside? Where is everyone else, and what on earth are they doing?

2:00PM/11.16.09

2:00PM

2:00PM, the sun's just rising
dead plants unfurling their leaves
I blow smoke into the new air,
it clouds my face
the afternoon smolders, waits
for night to cover its blemishes.

11.16.09

So much to feel and so little time
for the angry skies
the too-quiet afternoons
for joy that is oh so far away
the spaces where a hand, a shoulder should be
tears, tears.

08.05.09/Feel

08.05.09

It rains when you leave.
I melt, become unrecognizable
waiting for the salvation of sun,
of you.

Feel

Feel the season
coming up from under your
brown feet
a rumble, a dance
coming up to shake your
tired body

Feel the way
you move without trying
you dance without music
free and shaking and
full of change

Sometimes You Freak Out

Sometimes You Freak Out

It's the entrapment, the reality of no escape from:
the noise of off-key singing
my sluggish body
the shyness that pulls me inside
the assault of stares, grazing fingers
foreign idioms
a city running itself to death, chasing its own mangy tail.

It's not knowing who I am, having no sense of grounding, of being known, of being someone. I am nameless; I am every name (except ones I know). I am leaning against the air, against memories, shadows, dreams. And they aren't strong enough. They don't hold me. I am alone.

Reckless/Rain

Reckless

It is such a reckless stillness
the way it crowds out, makes space for
nothing but itself
expands inside me, crashing into my
body, changing its shape
without making a sound

Rains

The rains teach me
remind me
that sometimes we need to let ourselves be
dirty, grit between our toes, mud splashing up
to our hands, outsretched
to receive the gift of the clouds
sometimes we need to be reminded
that we were never really clean
to begin with