I'm ready I'm ready I'm ready I'm ready I'm
she sang
and she wasn't, no, she wasn't
I'm ready I'm ready I'm ready I'm
she said
and she was maybe, but who could tell?
I'm ready I'm ready I'm ready I'M READY
SHE SHOUTED
& cried
& hoped
& hollered
& prayed
& doubted
& worried
& finally fell asleep
Friday, July 27, 2018
penpals
the only kind
of love I ever want to
fall into is the kind of love that begins
slowly and creeps over you until you can't wait
to wake up in the morning to check the mail it used to come
in the hands of a mailperson & now it comes in my handular device
i don't even get out of bed & my dog wants to be let into the backyard
but i want to know if you were thinking about me when you woke up
if you told me something new about your childhood
abroad & which college you thought i went to
and i want to know if i'm allowed
to send you another
letter now
or not
of love I ever want to
fall into is the kind of love that begins
slowly and creeps over you until you can't wait
to wake up in the morning to check the mail it used to come
in the hands of a mailperson & now it comes in my handular device
i don't even get out of bed & my dog wants to be let into the backyard
but i want to know if you were thinking about me when you woke up
if you told me something new about your childhood
abroad & which college you thought i went to
and i want to know if i'm allowed
to send you another
letter now
or not
patience
waiting and waiting and waiting and wanting
not to be waiting
and wanting to be wanting
and waiting to not be wanting
and waiting for the wanting and the waiting to turn into
being
not to be waiting
and wanting to be wanting
and waiting to not be wanting
and waiting for the wanting and the waiting to turn into
being
Saturday, July 14, 2018
KD
july eleventh
today I'll plant lettuces
and a new round of dill
two kinds of peas, golden sweet and English wonder
some milkweed and purple annuals
laundry's put away,
sheets are in the dryer
dishes have all been stacked,
leftover pie crust baked
into small crescent moons
savory-- with mushrooms and thyme
I'll try not to wonder if you like mushrooms.
Later I could fold dish towels
and iron a few shirts
there's a pedagogy book to read
and stacks of music to practice
a candle to light, a prayer or two to send out
leftover pho for lunch
I'll do all this, and more too
to put off thinking about you
The Swedish sourdough cinnamon cardamom buns will take
ten or twelve hours-- that'll get me through
til tomorrow
unless
if I stop and remember this Christmas
when you told me about the design on my clogs
painted by hand by those damn Swedes
and how I found you so damn sweet
and you told me this spring how music was a reason to live
and I said, and so are clogs!
and you said, and so are mittens!
and oh, how I would make you so many pairs
of mittens
for your precious hands.
But I'm not thinking about this today,
or tomorrow, maybe not even until Saturday,
but it would be best to wait until Sunday.
yes, Sunday, I'll think about you then, perhaps.
today I'll plant lettuces
and a new round of dill
two kinds of peas, golden sweet and English wonder
some milkweed and purple annuals
laundry's put away,
sheets are in the dryer
dishes have all been stacked,
leftover pie crust baked
into small crescent moons
savory-- with mushrooms and thyme
I'll try not to wonder if you like mushrooms.
Later I could fold dish towels
and iron a few shirts
there's a pedagogy book to read
and stacks of music to practice
a candle to light, a prayer or two to send out
leftover pho for lunch
I'll do all this, and more too
to put off thinking about you
The Swedish sourdough cinnamon cardamom buns will take
ten or twelve hours-- that'll get me through
til tomorrow
unless
if I stop and remember this Christmas
when you told me about the design on my clogs
painted by hand by those damn Swedes
and how I found you so damn sweet
and you told me this spring how music was a reason to live
and I said, and so are clogs!
and you said, and so are mittens!
and oh, how I would make you so many pairs
of mittens
for your precious hands.
But I'm not thinking about this today,
or tomorrow, maybe not even until Saturday,
but it would be best to wait until Sunday.
yes, Sunday, I'll think about you then, perhaps.
v. the porch bed
it was respectable
to flop onto the porch bed
after a grueling summer day's activity
legs buckling from the strain of waterski, swim, bike,
volleyball, repeat, repeat, repeat
you were the coveted spot
the afternoon nap with waves and breeze
whispering through the screens
how many years of childhood
spent tearing up the lawn
dripping and yelping in delight
only to fall
silent
in line with the edge of the house
knowing you were there
and that you were occupied by a slumbering
grandmother
a most fearful creature,
neither to be awoken nor approached
strange, now,
to be allowed to walk
in the front door
sopping wet and grinning
but to go around back instead,
carefully, quietly,
peeing in to see if you are
still there
to flop onto the porch bed
after a grueling summer day's activity
legs buckling from the strain of waterski, swim, bike,
volleyball, repeat, repeat, repeat
you were the coveted spot
the afternoon nap with waves and breeze
whispering through the screens
how many years of childhood
spent tearing up the lawn
dripping and yelping in delight
only to fall
silent
in line with the edge of the house
knowing you were there
and that you were occupied by a slumbering
grandmother
a most fearful creature,
neither to be awoken nor approached
strange, now,
to be allowed to walk
in the front door
sopping wet and grinning
but to go around back instead,
carefully, quietly,
peeing in to see if you are
still there
ii. long wharf
the first of the new poems I'll share today is this one, I wrote it in 2014 after my friend P.L. dumped me (we'd only dated a month, not a huge deal). The original version is pretty frustrated and bitter, and I never liked it much, but I revisited it this week, after getting to say hello to some old stomping grounds in Boston earlier this month. I like it better now. Enjoy...
ii. long wharf
long wharf up ahead
I've made it.
it's shittily dark already and I'm cursing the flimsy
fashionable leather boots I chose this morning
I cannot slip again--
the surgeon didn't have an answer
for why both sides of the ankle broke
clearly,
when it should have been a sprain.
let's take a moment
watch the planes come and go
departures and arrivals
it's why I came here
breath in, two, three, four
exhale
I tell my students, this exercise,
you can do anywhere.
The sailboats wait at their moorings; it's just us.
Battened down against the wind
and winter.
No one else was stubborn
or foolish enough
to join for the early sunset.
It's 2002, I'm twelve, and mom dragged me here sailing.
It's cold, we stop by rowes wharf not rose wharf but rowes wharf
how terrible is that
but we stop and she hands me something to drink
called chai and
it's spiced
warm
it makes me feel a hundred years old
and something like wild wonder
I've searched for it, for that shop,
but I've never found it quite like that
day, and before we were sailing, just
me, alone with my mother, but more
each of us alone with our thoughts
quietly sipping our paper cups
full of memories
some I've only lately come to remember
twelve years old and twenty-four years
young and I recoil at the jellyfish and
sweet brine scent of barnacles
matted rope at the dockside
but draw myself up against the wind
and grin
the planes glide up and down
I'm here
breathing
counting
waiting
safe
ii. long wharf
long wharf up ahead
I've made it.
it's shittily dark already and I'm cursing the flimsy
fashionable leather boots I chose this morning
I cannot slip again--
the surgeon didn't have an answer
for why both sides of the ankle broke
clearly,
when it should have been a sprain.
let's take a moment
watch the planes come and go
departures and arrivals
it's why I came here
breath in, two, three, four
exhale
I tell my students, this exercise,
you can do anywhere.
The sailboats wait at their moorings; it's just us.
Battened down against the wind
and winter.
No one else was stubborn
or foolish enough
to join for the early sunset.
It's 2002, I'm twelve, and mom dragged me here sailing.
It's cold, we stop by rowes wharf not rose wharf but rowes wharf
how terrible is that
but we stop and she hands me something to drink
called chai and
it's spiced
warm
it makes me feel a hundred years old
and something like wild wonder
I've searched for it, for that shop,
but I've never found it quite like that
day, and before we were sailing, just
me, alone with my mother, but more
each of us alone with our thoughts
quietly sipping our paper cups
full of memories
some I've only lately come to remember
twelve years old and twenty-four years
young and I recoil at the jellyfish and
sweet brine scent of barnacles
matted rope at the dockside
but draw myself up against the wind
and grin
the planes glide up and down
I'm here
breathing
counting
waiting
safe
new shit
...been a while... but I'm back to writing poems, one every week or so, and feeling brave enough to put them out to the universe again. This year already, I've read poems aloud twice, which is a lot for me. Songs are easy, I can sing my way through any story and heartache, but just saying words aloud...aye, there's the rub.
it's been a tumultuous few weeks in my summetime life...and this week I've been back home in Austin taking naps with Honey dog by my side and letting all of the happenings and emotions swirl around settle into what they really are to me. Only some of them are really that important, the others fall to the sidelines. But it all takes time. Sleep helps. So does a little beer. And rom coms.
Anyhoo, it's good to be back on the blog. To all you dear readers out there, hello, and thanks for journeying with me.
it's been a tumultuous few weeks in my summetime life...and this week I've been back home in Austin taking naps with Honey dog by my side and letting all of the happenings and emotions swirl around settle into what they really are to me. Only some of them are really that important, the others fall to the sidelines. But it all takes time. Sleep helps. So does a little beer. And rom coms.
Anyhoo, it's good to be back on the blog. To all you dear readers out there, hello, and thanks for journeying with me.
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