I’m publishing a tiny poem here that I wrote six months ago. In October, my neighbor and friend Mo Mo committed suicide. And in November when they were cleaning out her apartment, I adopted her furniture as my own. When I brought it home, I cleaned it off and opened the drawers and found a few odds and ends… I took inventory in my journal…
Things in Mo Mo’s Drawers
A sunflower
seed. Some dry
grass. A broken, fake
nail. Two wooden
blocks duct-taped
together.
Filed under Poetry
In honor of the third annual Down the Rabbit Hole, I’m reposting my Alice poem from last year, inspired by this magical event! Can’t wait to get all Aliced up and wiggle it!
(Photo by Timmy Wildgoose) (Event Info)
Fall Down Alice
***
The rabbit with pink eyes is
calling you now, away from the dingy
ol’ gutter, the crowd, from the ticking,
the chores and the grayer of things,
from your dimes and your diamonds, from
have to’s and needings, to wander
a night, into something so dark
and so deep you might think
you don’t know where you are… did you
drive? No, you followed the rabbit and
fell, where he went with his pocket-watch
I’ll never tell…
Down, down, down, you will go…
It’s a dream and a show!
Come now, take a sly bite or a small
little sip, eat me, drink me, you shrink,
you grow gorgeously big. Let’s all
run in a circle, and eat tiny cakes
hear the music and see all the flowers
and shapes, let our story take over,
as you take your tea and the mad hatter’s
riddle echoes in our frenzy. We dance
til the queen stands up with her face
red and she turns to us all and says
“OFF WITH THEIR HEADS!”
Let’s sing “Beautiful Soup” and
play games with the gryphon
surrounded by creatures incredibly
vivid, with big eyes and ears and
with smiles so wide you’ll see
galaxies in them and tumble inside.
Play a game of croquet with the king
of the hearts, you can play with the
queen, but you can’t steal her tarts.
Let us smoke with the blue caterpillar
and dance with our limbs changing
size in kaleidoscope trance. Take
a stroll through our Crystal Ballroom
and see what a whimsical
wonderland Portland can be…
Oh the Cheshire cat’s King-unsettling grin
will expand and contort in the radiant din,
a transfiguring smile makes pleasures unreal,
unless you can recapture your power and
kneel to the creatures unknown and
the mystical presence. And watch Alice, fall down
with the wide eyes of innocence
into the rabbit hole, sealing her youth
come fall down with our rabbit, discover your truth.
Filed under Poetry
Oh these are the days we are made to remember. These are the days that will glow
Like a flame in my heart in the cold of December. Still burning when I’m feeling low.
Don’t you know that these are the walks on jagged old sidewalks, as trees break through concrete beneath,
These are the times I’ll keep fresh in my mind for my dreariest hour’s relief.
These are the smells of flowers and grass, as rain showers contest raging fires,
At a bonfire pit, as we laugh around it til the very last ember expires.
These are the flocks that all fly to the docks to feel warm river breath on their faces
At the season’s return, oh how each body yearns and each anticipating heart races.
In the swell of the heat with straps ‘cross my feet, I will wander and wonder and dream, I Look for young love or for some great adventure not knowing which one I will meet.
There’s no need to be brave or to even be bold to converse and convene with new strangers
For with each new spring start we reopen our hearts and forget apprehension of danger.
The skin on my back turns a bbq tan and my cheeks burn deep red with delight
My every pore sweats, then the drenching sun sets, and my butterflies enter the night.
It’s the thrill of unknown with the comfort of home, like a gust of warm wind in the tree. It’s the starlight parade and then watching it fade. It’s the swings and the scraping of knees.
Picnics in parks and bright stars in the dark with a passionate love or alone.
Walking through petal puddles, in wet freezing huddles, and suddenly finding we’ve grown.
From the love and the loss, through the cold winter frost, and now into renewal we
blossom.
We will try something new. I’ll learn something from you. And in awe we re-learn life is awesome.
These are times I forget to behave or to fret over money, and future, and goals.
My past dies with the chill, eyes wide open and filled, each new moment a some beauty unfolds.
The song of the summer is not soon forgotten, like carnival candy, on my tongue still sweet.
It’s the music that plays for the rest of our days, in each soul with a sweltering
beat.
A song that we dance, as we seek out romance, in a glance, or a hand, or a voice.
And we lose all our clothes to the strong current flows of a time we’ll always rejoice.
We divinely lay back in a world free of lack, for the season, the day, now the hour…
Til our world gets so hot that our gardens may rot, so it’s blessed again by cool rain showers.
That day ends not the song, but our lovers are gone, and the gardens have turned to compost.
We cover our feet as the summer retreats and we run out of mallows to roast.
Each one of these days is a magical haze in the minds of the old and the gray.
They can still feel the kiss that was pressed to their lips the arms that they wanted
to stay.
These are the days that we’re made to reach back for. These are the years that will glow
with the song of the summer in my life’s December. Behind eyes where age doesn’t show.
Filed under Poetry
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