Tag Archives: Author

Sweet Dirt (Portrait 10)

You thought it would’ve been water and initially you were right. Then, the ocean changed. No one was surprised. After all, that’s what we do, change, survive, change again if we don’t die first. Not very poetic. What nipped us in the ass was the increasing storm surges and haunting fires. Beautiful when viewed from a computer screen, the greys of wind whipped sea, the coal red of fire eating its way through forests. Sometimes I think voyeurism is humanity’s best quality. We gaze at beauty and swallow it, holding it in, while it eats at us from the inside. Damn, if it wasn’t for beauty, we might’ve been better off.

And so, it came down to dirt, sweet dirt. This is what we had to learn to respect. Funny….learning how to respect something. You think we had already learned. Again, you’re wrong. No wait, I’m wrong. Because now I know. We needed to worship dirt, not carve it up, colonize it, bend it, treat it like infinity. I could wash my hands a thousand times and this dirt would always stain my fingers. I’m ingrained with the soil. You’re the same as me.

Now scarce, we look for the sweet spots, where the dirt is still alive, wormy, nutrient filled. We’re hunters of dirt.

 

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I Used To Swim The River

Columbia River Gorge, December 2017

I remember swimming against your current, only to find myself stuck, muscles not strong enough to make progress. I learned to swim with you.

I remember heading for your deepest channels, where the big ships travel, catching large wakes. Your cautions were always whispers. I learned to hear you.

I remember bumping into sandbars, frightened, thinking I had swum into a sea lion. You let me feel the gritty sand in my hands and upon realizing what it was, I stood upon those sandbars, acting like I was walking on water. No one noticed, except for you and me.

I’ve lain upon your shores in the heat, where your gritty beach stung my bare feet. I searched for the softest sand and a tall shrub to shade myself. Overheated, your kiss, a cooling, minute wade.

I sang songs about you as a child, taught to me in schools smelling of waxed floors. Songs of commerce, soul, and lives. Those melodies still swirl about you and me, as do their themes.

You’ve seen me reflect upon you with lover’s eyes from on top the gorge. Countless reflections. Your expression is so vast, few grasp its content. Yet, you and I know, all who look will reflect.

 

 

 I’m sorry our dust has been kicked up high and settles down inside you. I no longer swim. I hope you can forgive me.

Unfortunate Cookies

fortune-cookie-sayings-14190729-1Unfortunate Cookies – Complete With Translation Errors 

  • Something you lost will soon turn up, like your wife.
  • Fame and fortune will soon belong to somebody else.
  • You will be invited to an extremely boring event.
  • The one you love is closer than you think. Run!
  • Better to press shirt than to bench press.
  • Love is for the lucky and the brave, neither of which you belong.
  • You will live a short and miserable life.
  • Sun always shines brightest during a drought.
  • You will enjoy good health after a long series of illnesses.
  • Happiness is an inside job and you are standing on the outside.
  • Your present plans are finally going to succeed. Happy 102nd birthday.
  • Shit surrounds you because you create it.
  • You never hesitate to fuck up the most easiest problems.
  • Never count one’s toes while measuring one’s life.
  • You will gain something you always wanted, then lose it all.
  • You will have many friends who annoy you.
  • You will soon die, after living, maybe.
  • Your smile is a treasure for your dentist.
  • Long life awaits you in your storage space.
  • You will enjoy many a great poops.
  • You will enjoy a great many poops.
  • You have a deep interest in all that is perverted.
  • All you hard work will pay off, after taxes.
  • You have the ability to touch the livers of many people.
  • You will kill all your friends with your niceness.
  • It’s time to explore new interests, because the old ones are really boring.
  • You are able to juggle large heavy projects.
  • Take advantage of your parents while the opportunity persists.
  • Your creativity will take you to unexpected misery.
  • Luck is the resin of good pipe dreams
  • Doors will be slamming for you
  • If you continually give, soon you will be out of everything you own.
  • You will conquer all obstetricians.
  • Patience doesn’t wait in line.
  • The secret of getting ahead is saving all your decapitations.
  • It’s better to scramble a hen then to fry an egg in your face.
  • You have a repellent personality.
  • Friends are like chocolate chips. You can never stop eating them.
  • The current year will bring you much happiness. Happy New Year’s Eve!
  • Be prepared for big and small things to fall on your foot.
  • Birthdays are like friends. The more you have the more you wish would go away.
  • Anything is possible when you own a large bank account.
  • Wise are they who do not dumb down
  • Your ingenuity will ruin everything.
  • Laugh long and prosper

Your lucky numbers: Have all been used up

 

a list

Sweet Weed

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The flesh of my lover’s body

Still taut within memory’s touch

That distance shaped my femininity

Her sweet, sweet, large lips, appeared

As a succulent rooted plant

Which allowed me into her meadow

To traverse the yard, to stretch within the clover

Tasting her dandelion, a wine, sweet weed,

The fuzz of her stalk still stuck to my tongue

I was loved for gathering the morning dew

Loose in her garden, leaning with the spin of Earth

I couldn’t stop growing. This she knew.

but now, cut clean as a thistle, a ragwort

Decayed, clipped, mowed down to a level field—

Away from dirt, my girlhood crumbled into dirt clods.

The color of my blossom strained a shady purple

The spiny leaves of my effort condemned me

Now, In the compost bin, I spoke babble 

To ivy, buttercups, and sore, sore sorrels

Who claimed they were willing to stay

Upon dirt, clay and crust, providing, promising

The creation of love, (This is not falling in love)

Planted, Watered, Groomed, Nameless.

Lost is…

Her name, unmentionable, our relationship, banished

As I dried to my death, breasts sagging, she pushed

Beyond my twine, into the moist regions, luring my bite

Until my teeth became mush, I managed a mangled smile

In between old lipstick, gloss, and caked on rouge

Settled within the ridges of my wrinkles

My seeds, vanished, blown away by present breaths

My memory is a vine, wrapping itself

Around thoughts, perspectives, emotions

How my tears are hotter than I remember

Her yellowed flower, a faint scent of sex

Stuck on the end of my eternal nose

Unfortunately applied to the middle of my face

 

The book of my fall, recited by my children

From their throats, drones like bees

Sing and dance, play above the grass

Where they fly directionless

This is of no surprise, for

I never taught them where to find the blooms

How one comes to a flower

How one talks to a flower

How one becomes a flower

Why someone would want to become a flower

 

When she sees me, she bends the branches backwards in anger

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