Hell

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Next Year !!!

Frida 4 !

She places the gray rectangle of shadow
above her chin, delicately as a name card
at a dinner setting. It is a simple truth –
that the sun's angle would darken this pattern -

a math she calculates steadily, the way
she pulls silver through her earlobes.

This face invents her –
From it the audience can guess
of her spine, of her hips and wide toes -
It is a face that she’s chosen, a freedom
Known only to painters, to poets and creators.

She sits potted
before the mirror, tracing
over and over, her own contours
until the whole thing is blurred
and strange. Until it is time to reinvent
each line. She paints
the endless Mexican desert
behind her pupils. She sculpts her chin,
purses the red tin of her lips.


As she works she imagines
tomorrow’s costume, the piles
of color that beg her to let them fall
over her frame at a party,
that want their weight draped around her ankles
that want to hide her whole thing
behind a shadowless, shapeless yellow.

Found Things

I forget the difference:
Birds and People

The people in the other room
Whose faces I never see, I hear
That they have nose rings
Or blonde hair, features that hold
a swift confidence, a light and flexible neck
Whatever their faces, I know
Their voices; muffled squeaks and squabbles
that come quickly beneath the door
And through whatever spaces
our walls allow.

I forget the difference:
Birds and People
Sewing nests out of found things like
shoe lace or poetry or feathers or melody.

What It Is

God sprinkles
wheat sprigs
from heaven
and birds use them
to make nests in my hair
and they also use
down feathers
from Spencer's bed.

Spring ends and eggs hatch and winter eats them and my silence grows.

I forget the difference:
Birds and People.
It is like dreadlocks
It is like branches
It is like woven leather
It is like barbed iron
It is like a beehive it is like a tumbler.

The Sea Is Calm

I got off a few blocks early, today, and walked down Larchwood, home. It smelled like honeysuckles. That made me think of the honeysuckles that used to be in our backyard, that our neighbors tore down. I remembered racing Sarah to get at their sweetness - who could find a flower that hadn't been emptied of it's nectar? It reminded me of summer. Summer reminded me of smoke from grills and barbecues. I can't wait for this summer's barbecues. This summer's fresh lemonade. This summer's air rushing through the car window, on the ride to Detroit, Memphis, Austin, Mexico.

... I think this sounds like I'm comforting an overweight friend

We stood together on thirteenth and spruce
Analyzing the physics of riding
On handlebars, how your weight
Means less the closer we are to each other.