Life, Poems

and honeyed carrots too

while I waited I was mindful of the mushrooms
;wild and washed, uncooked on the privacy
of my cutting
board.
I let them congregate there
;while I was missing him,
their gray heads huddled
while I muddled with the garlic,
and onion lovers
sautéing while I sashayed to my rhythm
;right hand raising a knife to the air
;cutting
a majestic air-shaped breast and tasty ass.
I was mindful of the curvature
of my feet, heavy on the floor,
while I chopped loose leaf parsley,
and waited another hour while the lid
domed the chicken, while the sherry cooked in.
what grand thing have I made for him?
;what tale while I was waiting

[for this prompt]

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Poems

Jupiter has 62 moons

Mozart is a seduction.  I believe in it.
Yet hardly any eye has absorbed the biggest
philosophical mystery of whole hog madness.
Jupiter has 62 moons, you know,

A crooning oboe is a scratchy misfit.
The violent violin is what you want
it to be– ripped Plums or Propositions.
G minor holds out a very tickly truth
in edges ruffled by spherical storms.

If something’s too large, we can’t see it.

[may be a metaphor thrown in for d’Verse]

Poems

Induced

What did you dream?
I have waited for your deduction.
When you couldn’t
cull the choice-iest parts,
did your slippery grip
socks with smiley faces
remind you to relax?
Did you think to save yourself?
If you don’t mind, I think
I’d have climbed right up
on top of you
on the table top–
pressed you into forever.
It’s alright.
We’re both concussed,
and all too human; waking
up in Love all over again.

[for this twiglet]

Poems

Cradle

Today I transcribed a guided meditation,
and I thought of the yoga and wine class
over by the pink house on the corner, and
of my shorthand dream with pretty hands.

“Come back to your breath,” she said, “choose
warring self or infinite self.”  And I thought,
holy fuck, she’s talking poetry. So I tried to
soak up some of the water-dwelling words.

Reclaimed love. No breath of fire. Soft hands.
Soft as the back of a plum. “Breathe. One
conscious breath.” My exhalation fell then
into the cradle of my chest (where it stirred).