small pile of handstitched hearts

darien up top
mixing the thoroseal
(designed to keep the groundwater out
and the rainwater in
the cistern)
while amber, ami, trish and i
paint it on (thickening with time and sun)
in a high and low layer
flinging shit all over the place i joke
when the thoroseal flies
landing on us and the ground

_______

small pile of handstitched hearts
left on the kitchen table by jose
who leaves to make his way to
colorado today

_______

to the west
a sky changing color (to gray and stacked clouds) while i
rip grass and other weeds
from the tomatoes
(between the slicers and amish pastes)

_______

emory the human shark
with teeth and nails
bouyed by an innertube
madix the swimfish swirls around in arms
sporting orange goggles

_______

post-swim
we pass a bottle of grapefruit around
swiggin
our hair still wet

_______

festooning there’s that word again
for the baroque cake
(lots of dark chocolate
and decorated with blackberries and
flowers: bachelors button
marigold
dianthus
elderberry)
trish made
for tyler’s birthday record-listening party
(pick a record from the crate
and line it up in the que)
i walk in while bruce springsteen’s
nebraska is playing
(what i hear in that song:
summer 2012 in a hut in a field above
one of the world’s largest freshwater aquifer
thunderstorms moving in
swish of wind in the corn
tears in eyes
guitar/harmonica/story in my ears
a temple just down the way
and all the math it takes to build
in circles)
i add a sam cooke record
to the que

_______

we wrap metal mesh around the
jar lid while the lightening bug
lights up inside
and secure it with a
rubber band and masking tape

_______

frog and friends books
i read in my go-to-sleep voice
while madix rotates the
lightning bug jar
in his hands

_______

he’s a poet and a sculptor mica says
which makes me homesick for a.v.
who is a person not a place
(but sometimes so remarkable of a person
that she feels like a place
not place as in a shop on the corner of so and so streets
but as in a field stretching miles to the horizon)

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Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, writing

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