Two Goofy Poems for a Goofy Super-Friend

I told you I would do this, and now you are about to see the fantastically absurd results...

A Poem for Ever-Transcending Emily

Where
are you?
(I ask, from the other side
of the low wall of the kitchen)

I can hear you but
I can’t see you.
(I peer over the low wall,
but see no one standing on the other side,
then—)

comes, a reply—

I’ve transcended my body.

Actually, I left my body
in the bathtub

and am now omnipresent—

I mean, I’m sitting on the kitchen floor.



For all of Those With a Condition With a Strange Name Pertaining to the Inability to Smell

I know!
A flash of inspiration, clear
like the smell of coffee (inappropriate metaphor, sorry)

I will bring you flowers,
fennel and rue,
I will bring you things
that taste like they smell.

A look of confusion
I catch a whiff of the raincloud
that passes over your brow (what does taste like a raincloud?)

And then a grateful smile-
I see how you appreciate this
kind gesture, born of an inspired mind,
and you answer, sweetly—

“You really need to smell my pants-
here, have a bite of this bagel.”

Improvements, Changes, a Few Poems, the Mamas and the Papas

Well, I'm pulling this poor neglected journal out of the cupboard, dusting it off, and imbuing it with new soul and sense of purpose. It is now a creative space. Please, leave comments, share creativeness or quotes or stories in response to these posts (or just randomly). Here is some work that I haven't had much chance to share, because it came about in that weird interim between my portfolio and the work I've done while in this magical Scottish city. I'm leaving out some of my pieces from Japan, because they're too springy and will have to wait for a more appropriate season (such as spring).



Ca ra mel corn coffee

I unfold my legs,
                                                 out
and let the sun toast me,
honey in my coffee
liquid, golden, the sun so
warmly
               stops to say hello.

(Chicago, May '09)

And one for the season we are passing into...

The Shore of December Night

I might think of how barely
I know you-
word after word stumbles
forth from you
as if nothing could
stave off what is to come.

The bed creaks a little
as I shift my weight,
next to you, knees
propping up my chin,
I rock in the slight
swells of blankets and
building sobs, riding them out.

Your eyes never leave the floor-
you are transfixed,
pinned and struggling by the invisible,
helpless in its arms.
I can hear when you are near
the breaking-
the tightness of your voice
stretched almost to snapping,
I wait for the lurch of the mattress
and the cracking and the flash and
salt water torrents
to sweep us into unknown and
turbulent waters.

But when it crumbles
I am dragged down by the
pull and weight of the undertow—
I am afraid of you;
raw and cold
but I have no control,
I am touching your
face; hot, shaking,
jittering, explosive
I am looking for your tender places.

I see my own face,
wide and white and blank,
reflected against
the blackness in your eyes—
my eyes huge and drinking
up all the dark with the light.
I gather you,
piece by piece,
one coiling seizing
sinew after another,
I gather you,
rattling knees,
fevered skin,
I gather you;
ferocious,
but still I pull you in—
the marrow cage of
a thousand nightmares I
cannot cradle.

Breath in, out,
rasp of steady surf over the
sloped sand;
breathe in the sea,
out the sea.
I breathe while you weep,
a small boy in the
arms of a stranger.

There is so much violence
in you—
part of me recoils,
my stomach clenches and
wants to reject,
but my arms are steely and
will not uncurl and I
can feel your wild heart
and my steady throbbing one
warring with each other,
and I don’t want to let go—
so we ride it out,

and I wish I didn’t love
impossible things so,
and I wish you
weren’t afraid of me,
and eventually the tears
slow and the
seconds between the flash
and the rumbling groan
grow,

and the stillness settles upon us—
you take a deep, wet, swallowing breath
and get up to light
another cigarette,
while I lay
stranded on the shore,
emptied and gently
rocking myself.

(Tokyo, December '08)