Monthly Archives: October 2014

spiked/spiced

birthday cake leftovers for breakfast
birthday cake leftovers for lunch
_______
pirates have such good style
i say to jonathan
from the patch of sun in which i sit
in response to his photo
of alexander in stripes on stripes
accessorized by an eye patch
_______
the care with which irina
places warm towels under my neck
lays them across my collarbones
swaddles my perma-cold feet
draws an image of
an age-old story
of washing the feet of
the downtrodden
_______
on our walk to the plaza
(which i always incorrectly call the square)
to catch ghostly gobliny glimpses
i explain to mara how sometimes
the pressure from the massage was so deep and sharp
that the route the pain traveled
rendered visible (behind closed eyelids) the network-of-nerves shape
x-ray-less x-ray
_______
Pan the waitor in
tight bike shorts and tail
i say something about
how refreshing it is to see a
a (presumed) cis-male
clad scantily and working it
on halloween
_______
over mugs of spiked/spiced cider
in casita #4
we carry on the neverending joke
about the mystery whistler
and add a few new ones
including (but not limited to)
the twurlitzer and the
the screamy tooters

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this is what 39 looks like

 

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images missing:

a million various singings/versions
of the birthday song
some of which i sing along to myself
(happy birthday to me)
_______

the neverending
screamy loud tooters joke
which becomes the trail name
that the group of us adopt

_______

sistermoon rising up over the ridge
to hang with us
on our way down the trail

_______

misosuri leaves, marigolds and zinnias
bursting from a mail-fetched box
_______

birthday cake [mara’s chocolate caramel cheesecake] candle glow
illuminating brilliant spirits and their brilliant faces
gathered around the birthday feast table

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bookends

the day somehow
begins and ends
with nirvana’s all apologies
playing on the local radio station

and is marked in the middle by
 the appearance of leaf heaps
mini mountains
near the office

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medium-to-large short-haired white dog on dolan street
waggly tail and sweet eyes
greets me for a morning exchange
on my run towards and away from
taos mountain

_______

some soft kindness in the
eyes of the leaf-blower wielding man
who pauses and motions good morning
as i run and motion back

_______

tom and i compare
passport-format photos
laughing and wishing ourselves/each other luck

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siberian elm

it’s raining mara says
sipping dandelion chicory tea
talking about the shower of leaves
spinning down

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eat your words

sun on the soles of my bare feet
as patches of refracted light
(in rainbow form)
rotate across casita walls
something akin to being inside a snowglobe
_______
crisp crunch of sun-gleaming leaves
encountering tree trunks
adobe walls
other leaves
on their swirl from sky down
(a swell of gratitude
to mama nature
for tossing this gilded confetti
in celebration of her scorpio creatures)
_______
there’s much to learn from those who’ve studied
the great silent places
the person on the radio says while
discussing the sounds of denali alaska
_______
that’s still one of the best weekends of my life
shiz and i laugh recounting the
gluten tag morning
(me clutching gigantic pastry
in the fancyland kitchen
after an all-out  
spin-the-bottle
under-the-stars
queers in the woods
with paper and pens
night)
_______
you eat your words someone at the table says
about tom (but more about his australian accent)
while someone else says natacha spits her words out
(french accent)
though it’s not quite like spitting – more of an attentive removal, vowel by vowel

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gently suspended

i ask regina
if she’s ever released a paper lantern
while we stand amongst
the shadows and colors and
flame-burst sounds

(when one spends the morning
watching brightly colored
gently suspended giants
ascend into clear fall-crisp
desert mountain sky
how can the rest of the day
that unfolds before them
not be made of magic and light)
_______
the smile i flash
must be a dazzler
because of the dazzle the mandolin player shoots back
of band in the plaza at the final farmer’s market of the season
playing that one song i know so well because
of how many times i heard trish, darien and jon
going through it (on banjo, accordion and guitar) it
in the next room over
or on the porch
or on the mini la casa stage
in a room full of swirling IMG_5139 IMG_5152 IMG_5154 IMG_5157 IMG_5129 IMG_5179 IMG_5173 IMG_5172 IMG_5163 IMG_5184 IMG_5233 IMG_5252 IMG_5295

 

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