Loving a kite

Watching with envy
This kite spinning above
Dancing in the quiet
Speeding across vistas I will never see
Tugging and diving
I want so much to feel the tug of your strings
I want so much to dance with you

You are coasting already high
When I grab hold
Did I steal this spool
And I laugh as you dip and soar
And we run
And you drop
And I am terrified
And you soar again and we are laughing again

And when I let you go you can go higher
But you cannot stop yourself from falling

And it was never you and I
It was your nature and the wind
The wind lifted you, the wind dropped you, and my hands simply carried you for a time

I couldn’t see the wind, I didn’t see the wind, and I never saw you.

My fingers are burned from pulling you.
The ache in my fingers is what remains.
I am grateful for these burns.

— 1 month ago
a haiku that must fit inside a house

you never clean the 

tea leaves from the drain I know

when you are running

— 7 months ago
what will you call who?

i will call you missing

what is this thing you will call this person?

it is a stillness, it is a black well

it is a nothing less than

it is the opposite of nothing

it is completely full

but not of you

— 1 year ago

so fuck

i had two books and one was a novel i was reading

and the other was a book of poetry

i was reading, but that doesn’t matter those poems

don’t go in a line

and they were making out the books, the poetry

holding the place in the line of the novel (did you ever notice

that lots of novels

are more of a line than the not-novels)


and i took a book out of the makeout to read a poem

and i lost my place in line

— 1 year ago
merging traffic

if you stop and the car behind you didn’t wait, if you stop and i am the car behind you, if i am a piece of hair in a fishbone braid and you look over there for a minute, we all get lost and starting over is ok when you are a piece or a head of hair but motherhood, that’s not a car even, its much, much more complicated than traffic and you can’t ever stop, even if there is an accident or the police are coming you just slow down or let someone take the wheel (having a passenger may save lives of other passengers) i remember braiding your hair and you would look out the window or move your head, which is like stopping. i want you to move again and again and again.

— 1 year ago
He never gives us more than we can handle even though sometimes it seems hard to go on

God has a plan and it includes your dog eating the comforter and shitting on your new pillows.

You know that it’s not a burned dessert, it’s just God calling back his pie.

We all have a time, and don’t worry about stepping on the tulips, their time has come.

— 1 year ago
My doctor says this is normal

I slept with my student. She is married, she is old enough to make these kinds of decisions. She likes to run her hands through the hair on my back and she tells me I have a mole that looks suspicious. This doesn’t happen all the time but it happens.

This is normal.

I miss my train and maybe it is on purpose because I hate Connecticut. I don’t get drunk at the bar at Grand Central. I go to Junior’s and buy two each of three kinds of cheesecake and a red velvet cupcake. On the train ride home I eat chocolate mousse cheesecake and lemon coconut layer cake and half of the carrot cheesecake, which I don’t even really like. And then I eat the rest of the damn carrot cheesecake because I can’t bear to throw it away and I can’t leave any evidence, no sorrowful sweating slices eyeing me from refrigerated purgatory. I will give its twin away as if it was on purpose, a gift I didn’t forget, and the red velvet cupcake is my reward for not eating all of the cake on the train. I love “dinner.”

This is normal.

On Saturday mornings I run. I run for one hour, I run until my face is red and my sweat burns my eyes. And then I run more until I feel a little sick, or honestly really pretty sick if I don’t feel sick it doesn’t count. And then I turn around and run home and when I get there take my shoes and socks off outside and leave them there, in wet wormy pile.  I take a shower and put my pajamas back on and lie with a smush face cat under the duvet and I make us both tuna fish sandwiches and I eat until I fall asleep.

This is normal.

Sometimes on a first date if the girl seems stuck up or boring or too attractive I will drink three martinis as fast as possible, and then I will excuse myself to wash my hands before our dinner arrives. In the bathroom I will vomit and then I will order more martinis. If tell my date that I was born with two very large livers, that my mother is part inuit and when she was pregnant with me she got into a minor car accident and we’re not sure but we think the xrays were probably not too helpful. If she even kind of believes for a tiny second that my gut is a super gut and not a regular old fat guy gut then I win. I like martinis, especially with blue-cheese in the olives.

This is normal.

I’m in love with my doctor. She saw me at the mall, in my new pants that I wore out of the store because my old pants fit my legs like a python fits a goat. I’m in love with my doctor. She said she liked my pants. 

— 1 year ago

That summer you flipped the sailboat, and the mast stuck, stuck in the mud of the pond underneath. I should have known then.

— 1 year ago

sea-rats, that’s what we called ‘em
they’d take anything shine, anything good to eat

it was dead hot, so hot you could smell gum off the sidewalk ‘cross the street and be happy it was peppermint
and the gulls overhead were screaming
if’n they were real rats, screaming like they babies was being eaten by foxes
or running in mangy grey rivers
the last apocalyptic sign of rising waters

these gulls were just screaming
screaming across the asphalt acres between three superstores
megafoods megawoods megawines
or some such

and before the storm really hit
a lot of things happened
but they’re all a jumble and I couldn’t tell you what was what much less when
so that’s really the last thing I remember
the asphalt shimmering
a faint longing for a stick of doublemint
and sea-rats screaming

— 1 year ago

the sand covered ground is blanketed

with shrill screaming toddlers

sticks and grass and limbs akimbo

and me, on the swing, silently pumping away

singing a song of rusty chains and rubber seats

a squeak amongst the squeaking

until I hear it, that same song, my song

and you are next to me, perfectly, flying

— 2 years ago
you win

you win the ride you win the prize

you must take it and you’ll never get it

the waiting is the hardest part

the waiting is the only way

the waiting doesn’t matter

the waiting is everything

the waiting is the only thing

there was never any thing

and nothing else will do

— 2 years ago
stillness (2)

the rain keeps the reds at bay

from green wet to black wet and barren

stealing even the sound

of the light blanched leaves

shaking in the wind

my four year old arms pumping

I would twirl my body into hysterics

laughing wildly with grass at my back

the spinning world an ecstasy

somewhere between

the patience of our company

and acceptance of her cold hand

there was a silence in the waiting

it passed by on tiptoes

inertia is the mother of a god

that is apparent but not existent

a ride spins faster than I can run

the only notice of movement

is the stick of my body to the wall

a floor that creaks and drops

— 2 years ago

is something to write about in an airport in the morning
sometimes coffee is better than food
catholic mass in the chapel in 5 minutes…
I’m traveling with an indian
who says he will catch up with god in december
he’ll make an appointment for a time that’s later
in a place that’s warmer
(the man behind me is praying that his bags arrive when he does)

— 2 years ago
alone with the rest of us (3)

on the inside or on the outside

the line is drawn still

vibrating across planes

a cut, so thin across

a million points of light

i keep it at my back

but close at hand

— 2 years ago