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

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

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.

a poem from october

This past October was a busy one for Lady Jams benefit performances. A good pal of ours, fondly referred to as "band dad" put together a huge benefit evening to raise money to support the Austin Breast Cancer Resource Center, an organization that provides all manner of support to women and their families during breast cancer treatments.I had a number of long conversations with Travis leading up to the event, and eventually, he asked me if I would write a poem to read at the event. I tossed the idea around for a while and then sat down and wrote the text copied below. It's fictional; it's sort of what I hope I would be strong enough to do for someone someday if they needed it. It's also an homage to all of the people I know who went through this with courage and tenacity.

It takes a lot for me to get angry, and to really accept it and feel it, but cancer is on my short list. Thinking about it-- the randomness, the suffering of all involved, the whole thing, makes me so angry and makes me feel so powerless. I've learned to channel anger and sadness into writing, and sometimes, songwriting. I've been meaning to share this poem with a wider audience for a while after that night in October where I read it aloud, and thought it was finally time. The holidays aren't always the easiest time for a lot of people, and in my little corner of the world I've been feeling a lot of love this holiday season, but also a lot of grief. It's been a weird year, full of great adventures but also major losses. Reflecting back on this little poem, with its bit of anger, but also its resolution to remain steadfast and loyal in the face of the unknown and un-fixable, is a source of strength for me. It's times like these when we should gather our loved ones even closer, and forgive and forget in order to love with our whole selves. That's easier said than done. Maybe this is my reminder to myself to stay connected, maybe it's a reminder for whoever might read this. Either way, blessings and peace to you and yours.

A poem for breast cancer awareness month, October 2016

Do you know what it feels like?

Do you know its name?

Do you know where to find it,

Do you know its birthday?

We don’t like mysteries anymore.

Not the human race. We’re civilized now,

We live at a busier pace.

No time for nights spent asking the stars

What they think about all day

And what their dreams are

We don’t look for answers that way, or in the wind

We don’t reach out to hold an unsteady hand.

So then it comes to you.

This sickness,

This sickness that sickens you.

How do I fix a problem that I cannot fully understand?

How do I help you--

I cannot feel your pain.

I don't know what thoughts are yelling themselves hoarse

Inside your brain.

How do I know you’ll still be here

when I come back again?

Day after day sitting here together,

We are the still point

Of the turning whirring people-healing machinery

But we both know

Sometimes the people come, and sometimes they don’t go.

But we know at least one thing for sure.

Not the length or time frame of all this.

Not a plan or maneuver to avoid cancer’s iron fist.

No, no, it’s just this--

Every day at a quarter to four

I’ll be the one to walk through that door.

How bout I try each time, to make it close softlier than before

So not even a single click wakes you.

We both know you haven’t slept a wink.

I’ll deal out the cards for four,

One for Terry in heaven

And one for Sasha’s mom too

One for me, and one for you.

You’ll shoot the moon, I’ll rack up the points,

And we’ll laugh and laugh

And maybe you’ll have your jello, after all.

Nothing else may be, but know this to be true:

No matter the sickness, no matter the looks,

We’re in this together

And oh, how I love you.

A Bedford Christmas

We drive to the countryside in volkswagons and subarus
to raid the fridge for Cabot cheddar cheese and havarti with dill
Our quick trips to Marshalls through frosted streets
result in glorious shopping victories and thrills

Some of us prefer to start the holiday morn
with dark coffee and an egg or two
others hit the cheerios and off they go
for a solitary walk in the New England snow

The wreath needs decorating
Something fragrant and festive is baking
Bundle up now, it'll take at least three
to rearrange the living room and finally,
finally, bring in the tree

In the afternoon we'll await the Smiths
with Fiddler playing in their van and cousins galore
There'll be presents to open and roast for feasting
Music too, for violins, flute, piano, guitar, voices, clarinets and more

After every song is done, over cake and chocolates
We'll sip espresso and tea in beloved earthen mugs
Laughing and speaking of the beautiful times past,
loved ones we miss and famous shut-up sticks,
We'll feel again that warmth of family, together on Christmas, at last.


Merry Christmas, y'all.

monday in austin

Tonight jamie jams invited me to go with her to a friend's house for some food and music-making. Naturally i said, sure!, and we headed over to find a truly rad group of families and friends, young and old, playing blues tunes and good ole texan ones and bright eyes and we even rapped about getting lost in the forest. And something about wood and boy scouts.

We talked some about writing, and about moving to different parts of the country and how messed up light changes can be. I'm glad I'm not the only one who's experienced that. Coming from New England to Austin was super at first, I was a beetle soaking up all that hot rich sunshine and bursting forth into a million splendid colors. But it wore off...I had a grey day, in my head and heart, and it was abrasive to go out into that brilliant sunny day. It felt like I was doing it wrong, and I started piling guilt on myself on the days I couldn't muster my own sunshine. My rest was disturbed and my schedule went wonky, I became the most nocturnal I've ever been, only calming down and feeling focused and safe to work and write once the sun went down.

When I wrote that last song, "sunny blue", I was feeling perhaps the worst I've ever felt in response to a shit storm of life hitting the fan of that particular week. For some reason, my bad days are always Thursdays. I've almost managed to limp through the whole week, and then Thursday night it all comes crashing down. I was terribly sad and heartbroken and also pretty sick with a cold when I wrote this song. Thinking about it now, I'm amazed I was singing at all that night, but it was exactly what I needed, and this is a song I love to sing. It is melancholy and emotional but also simple and true. I could canonize the characteristics of a person I cared about, but also, be able to walk away from it knowing I had been me through the whole thing. Sometimes I get so involved with a human that myself gets lost a bit in the shuffle.

Eventually, I figured out that I would call it "sunny blue". It makes me feel okay about walking outside in the glittering sunshine when I feel a bit doom and gloom inside. The song lightens me, makes me feel hopeful, and also glad, that I got to care about a person in a real and honest way for a little while. That kind of love, or whatever you call it, is big and scary and sacred.

I hope I get to touch the edges of more of it, that big, wild love thing.

I dunno, this whole holiday season, with trees and lights and children singing, it makes me feel like there is so much love out there to grab hold of, and swing around with, laughing and laughing.

sunny blue (lyrics)

journey's over
sung all the songs that needed singin'
back to driving home every night
just a-wondering--
wondering-- wondering
why i'm still so--
blue

it's not the way you made me feel
or the way you listened
it's not the conversations i miss
oh no, it's you
it's you

my heart points north
but my wheels spin east
my brain won't stop ticking
can't find no release
i'll work all day and then the night too
if maybe, oh maybe i'll
stop thinking about you--
stop thinking about you

it's not the advice i'd seek or the
questions i know you'd answer
it's not what you gave to me that i miss
oh no -- it's you

(it's you

your blue eyes burnt pale by the snow
your calm gentle way and the love that you'd quietly show
you are a thousand simple kind gestures
wrapped up in a compact frame
and though you've experienced great pain
you still get up each morning and try
try to let new people in
--i saw that, i saw it on your face
i wanted you; i knew you were something i couldn't replace)

it's not your arms i miss
or how warm i felt with you around
oh babe, it's none of that!
none of that it's just you
just
you