down an uneven stretch of stockton boulevard in summer, south of sacramento, i came across a classy broken broad, remarkably postured like a runway girl, walking bubblegum pink stilettos, long tan legs up to daisy dukes, a halter top, don’t stop, the mechanical boyish stroll, dry heat tempered by a bottle blue parasol angled off her skinny shoulder blade, urban electric milkmaid conjuring the ghost, to the tomb of some unknown soldier
the group became tighter
careful about who they let in and who they let out
some wanted in but could not get in
some wanted out but could not get out
those who died
you can do what’s undone. other things are out of your power. what is done you cannot undo. what a gift to be able to stay calm when you are subjected to great pressures and unable to manage. what a talent to quietly go about your work. what a blessing you are when you reach your potential. don’t give up. we need you.
the colorless moments of stressed inhibition
must i be always backed into a corner before i come
a sea of bad news and brake lights
even tears and smiles
were a stretch
from that place of half flag summer fatigue
arose a current from the far
we would not know until we opened two walls
life came into the trees
i awoke feeling different
all the colors returned
time was no longer just a waiting for work
there was meaning
it was personal
it was yours
it was mine
i reinvented myself in motion yet stillness was my hallmark. i used to stare into the eyes of hurricanes until they closed. now i am underneath them, plotting a course for open ocean. still they settle into land by choice and suicidal tendency.
i wonder how i survive the oppositions. chaos wants me for my calm. the depressions look to me for uplift. they both know i have survived them. i have survived my self. know me for family. for i have lived there, too.
you read the lips of a dyslexicon backwards up against the mirror this evening. they told you books are dead. you found life there in a raindrop bead you rehydrated by a cry. your therapist shouldered insulin in tweed. the sugar cube came with a business card and why? because you were in pain. unheard, unseen. now the plant is watered, turning green. unlock the doors. remove the screen. jump out into an earth sky. don’t forget your no name sneakers.
relocating yourself is hard. i was all wound up and so tightly there was no room for a catch, twenty two, or a finger to inch its way between the string and the spool. the risk was decapitation of an innocent digit, say number two, flat on the ground without its curly-q. the tale had a tail. i saw the end of it, too. it was bushy like a cat’s just washed, having dried. the cat was my tiger approaching me now on the bed, after another long night moving more stuff from point a to point b. all crying in his cage earlier, soaking wet. feeling scared and mistreated. now it was long after my usual bedtime and i was the one hurt and crying after the longest of days. finally lying down @ point b. suddenly letting go. the wind took the kite and all, pulling the spool and the string right out of my hand. now we are free. my tiger and his brother approach me. blondie comes up and nestles his head under my ribs. his brother, pitbull aka bunny, settles down on the blanket by my feet. these are the only kids i have. i am suddenly unwound and so happy. the breeze draws in from the window. we are home. we are flying.