and the untwisting

wouldn’t mine the hanging
it’s the lying in the grave so long
oh boy i been
all around this world
i sing voice reverberating through
shower steam
_______

noticing a theme here she says
of james’s mountain mix
appalachia
_______

trees wearing sweaters
makes me uncomfortable
corinne reports from
iowa city

_______

this is one of my favorites i say
facing liana in stretchy bird profile print dress
backwards in kitchen chair

_______
wrapping myself in the
borrowed jacket (offwhite with grayblue)
infused with yesterday’s healing
po-sum-on – like mentholy scent
_______

occasionally i remember
to look up
from small bits of snow-swirl
to take in the clumps
of juniper climbing up foothill-side
blackgreen against whitegray sky
_______
break you down vince says
about grad school so you can
build yourself up again
_______
i appreciate your hanky vince says
i know a lot of women who think
it’s disgusting
_______

palm to forehead she says
she’s so cold i say she’s
burning up
_______

haze halo surrounding moon
and porch light and
street lamp and
any other glowing thing out there
in this snow-coated night
_______

10something pm the sound
twirling down the spiral staircase:
ricola bag rustle and the
untwisting of a wrapped lozenge

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Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, writing

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