Monday, July 25, 2011

i'll have half a diet pretzel: T-DOME Do's and T-DOME Don'ts (for mackenzie)

don't wear a shirt or shoes or have problems.
do give good directions.
don't call yourself everybody's uncle.

do wear a twenty dollar cowboy hat and a corona shirt. do sing vibrato. don't lose the keys to your big truck in tacoma.

do have this tattoo.

do bring a buddy.

don't complement your tramp stamp with a tiny leather vest.

don't get this tattoo.

do wear a belt buckle to avoid looking like you are going to a "jack johnson concert"

do let your country/ kenny flag fly. don't let your hair get in the way.

do wear purple.

don't and don't.

do get comfortable.

do get off your butt and sing along.

do stay svelte. do wear cut off sleeves. do introduce your songs with "this one is for that person in your life..."

Monday, July 11, 2011

some people make me want to puke with happiness


river float happy


my bedroom wall is a back drop

the boys weren't in the picture

because we didn't want them in it

Friday, July 8, 2011

for kori

I’m happy today

with poached eggs on biscuits,
saying to you: let’s do the strange
things we would never do.
Like leave the ice cream to melt
on the coffee table, travel
Spain one week with the boy
who will buy you anything,
turn down the job or kiss him
against the door frame
with the neighbors watching.
It’s partly cloudy,
yet your cheeks are flush.
Open the windows and the air  
circulates the apartment.
The walls are whistling,
and here we are again: done                                   
with sadness, our hearts rolled
out on the breakfast table, like
pie crust waitin on filling.

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Monday, July 4, 2011

i can't think of titles for my poems anymore

In spring, the kerria ate the rose,
and bush-tits gathered upside  down
and right side up.  But I barely noticed
the gray bodies against all that yellow.

Summer has ripened and you are gone.
It is warm in the apartment
and the forgotten rose has bloomed,
is wafting through the open door.

I don’t know if it is the thought
of you, or the height of the blushing
flower, but my skin is burning,
says I want you here.

Maybe that's why I keep looking
out the window to catch the lone
yellow warbler in the kerria,
which has surrendered color. Which 
ate the rose and gave it up again.

Saturday, July 2, 2011

so what if i took a lot of pictures of your dog: my friday in a nutshell

Judge is scared.

Judge discovers Royal

Judge enjoys the park

Friday, July 1, 2011

plants of the pacific

Heart pressed like a lily
in your field guide.
Queen’s cup and pink fawn lily,
blue-bead lily with a wolf’s berry.
The pricked ears of a deer
and a bitter milky taste.
I’m yellow glacier lily,
petal pressed to be permanent.