Smiling at the smack

waiting for 

the bus, nut 

smacks the oblivious

street, black 

feathers furl 

down, black 

beak pinches 

nearly indestructible 

treat, retreats to 

bold black wire 

safety, smiling 

still, waiting  

for the smack...

 

contemplative tea

 

sipping tea once

a sunny morning.

radiant tree zoo.

vert quiet island

 

very quiet island, episodic sitting, sometimes still, sometimes raspberries, cooking with chopin, the sky did not threaten, depending upon your perspective, to rain all day like a fifties striptease  gets so close without ever getting there, wordling myself into clouds again, abstract erotic hopeful poetry, suddenly the idea communes, tiramisu & tea-dirty chai, the champion of potatoes loves me again but only halfway, my day wore a tight t-shirt & the cockiest black jeans they have, cute babe reclines outside the pirate ship takes a surreptitious drag of me, 

i am writing because i care.

Evidence of Rain

 

Wednesday puddles

in slow motion 

explosions of

fuchsia & lilac 

ruffled rhododendrons 

swirl a little girl 

circles the aftermath

singing I am not

welcome but

I am not trapped.

grateful for blossom

and new wave on the grass.

evidence of rain.

Grateful for the clouds

 

Grateful for 

the clouds. I remember 

the morning behind the blinds, 

darkening. We say 

took the day off but 

never gave the day away. 

thick and malty, a day of 

dark teas. Grateful for 

the clouds after all 

that sun. I have 

begun to tan makes

all my scars 

glow. 

Cascadian Colonization

 

 

 

 

 

and now you don't belong

because you've been here

too long out of place in

the place I've been

all along.

 

Saying The Quiet Part Out Loud

 

cannot see them where they sit 

do not know them but i know 

the trees bloom above where 

a man who is black has been 

shot again she says to the other

like kicking a dog it’s probably 

wrong he probably shouldn’t 

have died she concedes but 

breaking windows is what’s 

really wrong she says

as the trees bloom above. 

found face

 

 

 

 

 

fallen or discarded

wept where she lay

arrested in dream

 

 

 

 

 

busker

 

 

 

no matter how 

overcast you 

can never really 

see his eyes 

glassed against even 

the possibility of 

sun, leans 

hooded & camouflaged 

against the rail on 

5th & Washington 

summons a quiet 

storm through song.