30. boop
Powdered sugar and painted light, I wish us all a warm-soul night. Painted dream, and powdered day, I wish us all a love-blessed way. Continue reading 30. boop
Category: poetry
23. the bake pan’s dream
The blue bake pan catches the rainbow. The blue bake pan holds the rainbow. The blue bake pan bakes the rainbow. Makes a dozen. Makes baker’s dozen. Makes a million more. The blue bake pan gives a rainbow to every raindrop. Every raindrop sends it back to the kitchen. They like to share. The blue bake pan puts the rainbows together. Builds one the world … Continue reading 23. the bake pan’s dream
7. sick day
A longjohn day.A long yawn day.A jaw-pop, face-crunchyawn day. A long day. A full-body-ice-packsore bone day. A sorbet day.A stay-in-bedand lean-off-the-edge-to-scoop-the-cold-day. A cold-turkeyback-away-from-the-ledgeday. A back-against-the-wall day,a hide-from-the-grind day, a body and mind day. Your throat is a littlehoarse.Your awake,a little tired.You don’t have a feveryet,but your body holdsthe heat over you like theSword of Damocles. You wait for the fall.This happens in the autumn. It’s … Continue reading 7. sick day
salute
The last ring my husband made for me still fits. We lived in our car then.Outside the world,molded to core and bone. The ring sits differently now,slides only halfway downa finger so paddedit sometimes forgets what it’s made of. The ring never forgetswhere it came from. It fits now, a widow’s ring,always at half mast. Continue reading salute
for the littles who were
For little Ji-Ho who loved hula hoops and dinosaurs Jenna Jenna Joolyjoopsloved to the play with hula hoops.Then one day she hooped so fastshe made a portal to the past!And though time travel was a shockereven THAT did not stop her,and on she hooped, and farther back,and farther back,until one day she was snackfor a dinosaur.Oops. For little Efraim who loved Climbing Trees This tree … Continue reading for the littles who were
mournings
Because the things I have to do are sea monsters lurking,my bed is lost at sea.On the boat with me is the weight of a grieving mother anddeep in the water a bell sings the story of her lost child. The soft waves of the music make it hard to move. If I lay down flat and close tight my eyes,I can feel the deep … Continue reading mournings
but soft
Nothing should autocorrect to suicide,and the soft tissues of my bodycould stand to be harder,and the rules of physics should applyto even the hard things of lifethat stack beyond the math of it.I like to ask everyone who livesin the future to tell me the truth.Does the soft of this body make it there?Does love? Yes, yes, yes, they say. Love is waiting.The soft survives. Continue reading but soft
not a day for the beauty of my unloves
My 4th grade teacher’s husband is color-blind,and together they tell us how, in the forest,he shows herall the hidden animals she loves,and only those. I knew even then I wanted that. I knew even then I wanted toforever-love a soul unconfused by the camouflages of life.A soul who sees every beautiful thingI’ve walked right past,and sometimes, but only sometimes, points it out. Prompt: What grown … Continue reading not a day for the beauty of my unloves
rarasaur 