i know this blooming

1. dreams:
greyhound nighttime bus station
and the waiting
the waiting
something about disaster
and gurnies
haiti meets katrina

2. floorboard creak
alerts couchbird
i have risen
and am leaning into day

3. yesterdays 2.700 feet
lodging itself
in todays hips
and ribs

4. brick and rail
under upturned asphalt
return visits on two wheels
it never gets old

5. milky peppermint tea
steeping in azure pot
the vision
glittering ribbons
a typewriter
and binder clips

6. spring drifting in cracked open windows
while corinne sweeps living room
some ancient version of me
shaking itself from sleep
i know this
i know this smell
i know this blooming
i have
been here

7. hawthorne and 35th
shiz and i
arms linked
one chocolate covered hazelnut
for the road

8. it finally occurs to me
to look up
from peeled apart road
to find a moon
the size of the giant peach
as in james and the

9. moon outperforming streetlights
moon passing through thin strip of gauze cloud
moon pulling me out to grade school playground for a
fuller quieter more dark-cloaked view
moon behind weeping willow silhouette

10. gift
cupped in palms
at the bottom of the staircase

11. leaning into it
i miss you

backpacks big enough to pack a week into

1. ninethirty am
scrambled breakfast awaits
with a side of
breakfast cereal
in the clouds
of burnt bacon

2. gotta’ hava’ java
espresso drive thru
highway 14
somewhere between
the bridge of the gods
and dog mountain
far enough from portland
to have decimated
a bag of
honey dijon chips
on the way

3. it’s too bad
your bum shoulder
is on my side
in the car
when you say
must be tall
to you

4. discovery of the
left-behind raincoat
and the
dead-battery camera

5. the sweetest
most crisp
fuji apple
passed back and forth
between our
forest-cold hands

6. keep going
this is what the tree
bends low
to whisper in my ear

7. with an elevation gain of 2,700 feet
in 3.7 miles
we come across the crankiest
and most over-geared hikers
i’ve ever met
walking sticks
backpacks big enough to pack a week into
my legwarmers (that’s gators to you)
and tennisshoes
become the new joke

8. ascending
to snow
through clouds

9. tempeh tuna salad
and rice crackers
crouching into snow
to eat
.1 misread as 1
more mile to go

10. bad-hair day trees
near the summit
as if
the wind
is always

11. icefrost on branches
like lines from a chisel-tip
in the same bad-hair tree day
melting from the heat
of our breath

12. from sundown on friday
to sundown on saturday…

corinne finishes the sentence:
sweetie unplugs

13. handheld
in front seat
south on 1-84
with chocolate in our mouths
we navigate

14. content
in this hardworked body
i stay home

regarding practice and devotion

1. dreams:
we lean into the melt
of each other

climbing into my
uncovered horseless wagon
pedaling and steering with hands
you alongside
on a scooter

or at least very last minute
for the portland-bound

tell me about truth
someone whispers
from that between-worlds

2. from 2915 mlk
to 18th and alberta
in 13 bike minutes flat
like a knife
cutting through
the cake of this town

3. discussing the back pain
with my acupuncturist
i laugh while
explaining the soupbowl futon
after she asks
what kind of bed do you sleep in?

4. shirt off
face down
tucked between white sheets
landscape of glass cups
suctioned along spine
with each deeplung breath

5. bright red shining mary janes
and a multicolored vest
in the produce aisle
near the carrots
i tell her
i like her shoes

6. tempeh tuna salad
with 1/4 of molly’s red onion
five summer canned pickles
and twiggy seaweed chopped fine
and perfect
packaged for tomorrow’s ascent

7. smuggling firewood
in armfuls
from red subaru hatchback
to living room

8. proposing
‘your mom’ jokes
as scholarship essay answers

9. corinne compares the story
to a xylophone
while carrot
notes the handwritten definition
of egregious

10. brightest full moon
of 2010
invisible under cloud cover
the quickening time,
when intention and devotion
rise up within us
to meet the year ahead

aligning with notes over the telegraph
regarding practice and devotion
my day

11. if nothing else
i want to remember
the dedication
to doing the next right thing

12. cross-section image
of ant colonies
a network
of spoondiggers tunnels

the heartbreak of draft-horses

1. dream:
a party
and deepbreathing
even my clothes are confident
my lack of eye-contact
is not avoidance
but a deliberate choice
giving and taking
your voice
through the heating vent
i think she’s done with me

2. blanket
of sky
pulled back
exposing pink strip of horizon

3. jon’s college friend
named ‘cocktail’
who always wore suits
drank cocktails
and owned only one tape
(van halen
withe the hot for teacher track)
to play
in batttery-powered
backseat boombox

4. dusting out the
steamer trunk
with seedlings of possibility
katie’s farm
square peg farm
breitenbush hot springs

5. post-shower
and collapsed
a cocoon
parade of miniature dreams
between my ears
followed by a parade
of cocoon visitors

6. paula arrives
with a bouquet of beets

7. james
and i
bellies full
on beet walnut fromage blanc basil salad
sweet potato fries
bowl of greens
seaweed crackers
pecan-stuffed cinnamon nutmeg cardamom orange zest dates

8. paula the icecream warrior
now living on
the riches
of the waffle cone

9. the heartbreak
of drafthorses
bred too big for their bodies
for hoof deterioration

10. four of us
one pint of chocolate coconut bliss
three spoons
from couch to couch
while discussing
the finer points
of casual

11. dictionary fortune:
enroot: to fix by the root, to attach or place securely; implant deeply
enroute: during the course of a journey; on the way

12. this tunnel
is made of chairs
and this heart
is a mason jar
of honey
in the sun

13. entering
discourses of dis/honesty
in verbal and action forms

14. handbell chorus of shame
ringing out
from elbows
up stretch of humerous
to scapula
if nothing else
it will give you something
to talk about
on sunday
with eggs

no longer percussion but watery

1. sunspilled sky
liquid gold
to the west
over left shoulder
glowing green

2. something about work
and how i had to cry
on theĀ  ride home
something about how matthew said
the new temporary line cooler
made him feel like a giant
and aaron the boss
yeah? did you rest your nuts on it
something about
how aaron said
what the hell is that noise?
about the cd matthew was playing
and how all of a sudden
i am a shamed child
and something about
how i offer to cut tomatoes and mushrooms
at 3:45
and perhaps
this saved me
from ryan’s your work isn’t cutting it wrath
but it doesn’t save me
from feeling
and exhausted
and frustrated
and the full weight
of patriarchy
in the work place

3. vita cafe employee rules
my special copy
in the fireplace
before i’ve even changed out
of greased work clothes
followed by
from the edge of that train town
under wyoming stars

4. roasted potatoes, sweet potatoes, garlic
salad with mochi crutons and tahini dressing
and a kitchen pullup bar
i am too exhausted
to approach

5. shhh, no words
james leans into my heartbeat
silver stethoscope against chest
nurse in training
i listen too
no longer percussion
but watery
a whole liquid world
of channels
and valves
open closed
open closed
and the rush of fluids
between these two states

6. each of us
containing 5 to 6 liters
of blood
charting its course
once a minute

7. discovering how to
best navigate
your strata
my meltwater

fame. i’m gonna live forever.

1. red brick and rail
to daylight

2. partner head stand practice
on a collection of
baby blue
and olive green mats
pressing elbow pads
into ground
while we cup our heads
to our hands
figure eights
in our thumbs and forefingers

3. sarai
shea (voted best possible person
to run a whorehouse in portland)
cataloging spring seed stock
around living room table

4. wide rainbow
raining over washington
just beyond
the columbia

5. man on ladder
reaching up to lightbulbs
under alberta street
yarn store

6. salted roasted cashews
in our palms
chased by the sweetness of
lemon ginger echinachea juice

7. auditions
and that cafeteria scene
i’m gonna live forever.

8. self care
in three parts:

9. in case of fire
sit as close as possible
so that you may feel your toes
on the surface
of the sun

10. ryder’s tom kha soup
lime rinds and all
with sweet and sour stir fry
secret garden taking turns telling
what we look forward to about this week
what we look froward to about getting older
and what we hope to get done by the end of

11. towelwrapped and placing
lavender offering
in foot-of-statue candlelight
gratitude for the desert

12. tributaries
of sweat
running down

the answer is softness

1. sugar
shining like frost
over antique yellow triangle
of ginger scone
day olds
from two doors down

2. two droppersfull
of aubin’s
under my tongue
washed with water

3. broken (chapped) things:
salad spinner
sandwich cooler
rubber non-slip mats
floor squeegee
red concrete floor paint

4. fabric store
closed on mondays
i tug at the doorhandle

5. tea house
instead of waiting
i turn away

6. staedtler markers
ball point pen

7. man at the next table
says peace
instead of goodbye
before hanging up

8. chapter #2
afloat on green couch
bowl full of dinner
balanced on thighs
wool blanket draped
wishing for a fire in the fireplace

9. itunes shuffle fortune:
fortune #1
fortune #2
fortune #3

10. in a time of meltwater
and anticipations of steamer trunks
the answer
is softness
linen on linen

in the dream they had a name

1. in this morning’s dream:
someone died
we were on tour
and they were a close someone
a best friend someone
i hadn’t seen
in years
they were a glittering someone
in the dream, they had a name
in waking life, i can’t remember it
but the gutting sense of loss translates

and we poured whiskey to the ground
just like they had joked about
and it was hard
to go back to the hotel
carved out and alone
it was hard to go to the show
and rock out
screaming along
with the lyrics

2. the words
au revoir
on page 59
speedtraining me
without consent
to a shot-out trainbridge
over brown river water
two candles on creosoted beams
letting gos
some saved
some burned and tossed over

3. making things
thank you doughy young man
for your
encouraging appreciation

4. laurie anderson
turned way down
in the background
for hours

5. the meditation
of ironing out the cotton wrinkles

6. threading
german-made redmaroon cotton
through machine
silver corkscrews
needle eye
tension assembly
fabric guided forward
between presser foot
and feed dog

7. feet propped on space heater
while you read
installments #5 and #6
your vowels and consonants
dissovling into skin

the stuffed-envelope parade of acceptance

1. i wanna hear pavaratti cover this one
paul announces
before the saturday morning orders
roll in

2. jon and i
eye contacting
at the musical inside-joke of
stevie wonder’s
five harmonica bars of
mary had a little lamb

3. juice delivery guy
his cologne like a ghost
hanging two feet back

4. corinne
herding me home
to saic false alarm
in the form of a catalogue
worth $40 of my $80
admisisons fee
they’re just preparing me
i tell her
for the stuffed-envelope parade
of acceptance

5. coconut macaroon
and lady gaga
costume change
grease-stained jeans
to legwarmer layers

6. sky sifting through
gradients of blackblue
through fogged windshield

7. keith olberman
breaking it down
like a slampoet
in a suit
with news anchor diction
enter husband #5

8. the sky,
black construction paper
with pinholes

the stars,
diamond light shining through

saturday night stars
mean more

9. grab bags
and fizzing soda candy
at nicoletta’s
six hour
birthday brunch

10. 12:15 am
the sound of bats
echolocating their way
across clear night sky
dug up and played live
from the new berlin
memory archive
when fields were still fields

mutuality, not vacuums

1. consciousness
pulled up
like water
heavy in a wooden bucket
from the dark well
of dreamsleep
by the persistence
of a pink
alarm clock

2. mason jar water
spilled across hardwood
red towel rescue

3. plow yoga pose
through spine
with each inhale

4. jasmine green tea
rising out
bluegreen tea pot spout

5. chopped up
and redistributed by satellite
i know this sound
and you ask me
to say the word

6. altar candles lit and flickering
sketching hands onto brown craft paper
an offering
in the corner
for the doughy young man

7. layers of asphalt
peeled back
rough under rolling wheels

8. shannon and i
hand held
under blankets
with care
what works
and what needs adjusting
the goal: support
but not reliance,
not vacuums

9. ride home
same torn road
i discover
patches of redbrown brick
rails shining in wet night

10. a vision:
corinne and i
rocking chairs
razzing each other
passing feeble shoulder punches
back and forth

11. from sundown to
three stars of the next night
i bathe
in your slow breaths
of rest

12. silver cursive pillow gift