typewriter alley

dropping broccoli starts
into the earth
as the day heats up
three varieties: green sprouting

(while i do not take responsibility for naming the broccoli varieties
i do consider the appropriateness of naming vegetables after ethnic groups
and also, the appropriateness of using the endonym gypsy instead of the term the romani
people use for themselves [romani])


emory on a bench on under the juniper tree
i will not
let anyone
dig up
my garden
and while trish and i joked about locking myself down in front of the machinery
when it comes in
(in order to build our cistern to gather rainwater to drink and wash with)
there is something in emory’s rage
that makes it no joke at all


typewriter alley
darien calls the east wing of karma
while we joke about naming neighborhoods
in the building we live in


needle on empty
as mica and i head town-wards in the truck
joking about edging


we run from end zone to end zone
and toss the disc
under a gathering storm


under a may sky
in the d.r. pond
for the first time this season


when we arrive
mark is searching for the pie irons
to make mountain pies/pudgey pies
(blueberry pie filling, sourdough and cream cheese and whipping cream
on hand for just the occasion)


the cool of small rain drops
through cotton long sleeve button down
against the heat reaching out
to where i stand at the edge
of the fire ring


mica and i under the overhang
on the outdoor landing of gooseberry
watching the stormsky change
from halo-gold/white to orange/pink spill
singing sunrise, sunset


around the table
trish and i make noise and clap
for darien the crust maker!
for robin the dish-doer!
for tyler the fire starter!
for mica and frankie the table carriers!
for trish for bringing the wine!
for joe the cook at the fire!


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