glinting filament

climb-perched in
pond-side apple trees
simon, emory and i see
how many fresh cuts (pruning)
we can count
my fingertips pressed on the
smooth sawed-off places
we arrive at somewhere around 38

i overheard ya’ll saying
i say and i just
want t let yu know
your bodies are awesome and perfect
i tell two seven year old girls
from my leopold bench perch

she says from the west coast
heart, head and body
popcorn picnic slippery salted
hands taossing mini-frisbee
on slater’s hill swigging
maple + lemon juice + water = lemonade
from be-stickered nalgene

curliques of applewood
at happy hour on front porch floor
while i whittle branch/whip
down to chopstick
glinting filament in
sunset western sky
trails of airplanes

like a backwards tsunami

they say there’s only
one year of water left
in california baigz says
while we weed/prepare
beds for future onions

piling and pulling
carts of pummies
as the day warms
the work and weather
bring enough heat that
i shed four top layers
in an hour
in the field we sing
on repeat til i
have gathered all the words
in my brain basket:
my body is a living temple of love
my body is a living temple of love
my body is the body of the goddess
my body is the body of the horned one
woh oh oh i am what i am uh huh
woh oh oh i love what i am uh huh

green-white swirl playground ball
stuffed into screen hole turned
cat door on front porch


a line of loaves (sourdough)
rising on oven-top as
last summer’s snow peas
sizzle in wok

what kind of dinosaur
do you think it is
emory asks about his
hatching egg in
silver bowl full of water
i don’t know i say a brontosaur

looks like waves i say
of the swaths of white
arc-ing across sky
while em and i
stop-sign wait
at the convergence of
gravel and pavement
like a bakwards tsunami he says
proving my point that
most kids are the raddest poets

our shadows lengthening
in almost-sunset orange
casting its color on white rock road
as we wheel east
little cute food alline calls it
while scooping cooked potato
out of its purple sometimes red skin
lavish gifts she says because she
means it but also because she
likes the way it sounds we laugh
so do i

hallelujah tentative sing along
swells with each chorusing
how i harmonize
our vibratos like velcro

tyler with handbrooms tapping
on snare (and other drum whose
name i don’t know)
emory half-wrapped in
sleeping bag in truck bed
where we squeeze into
the best spot (against the cab)
and hum under moonglow
and starstruck sky
moving through lilty air
of spring lightness
from the water world:
A man being pulled out of the water, during floods in Srinagar, Indian-controlled Kashmir. – voice of america, day in photos

home i never

you’re the home i
never had she says
improv style while
heading west through
green-splosion desert

wild turkey ambling
across county highway M
in front of us while
another nestles in a
not-yet-tilled field
to our left

we start light
squeezing color from tube
and incorporating hues with ink knives

on plexiglass / glass
then rolling on brayers til tack-less
before shifting to darker shades
while the prints exponentially bloom before us
(mica, trish, june)
while they dry

a simultaneous eyebrow raise and nod
between trish and i
wordless approval of roasted red pepper hummus
on our way out i
position myself strategically
behind the pillar so i can
nab a butter cookie with
musical-note icing
without being seen
trish and baigz checking out
the drying-print display
cheer me in my
unicorn vs. robot dinosaur leggings on
in upstairs karma during jillian’s
standing mountain climbers

mid-abs i get the giggles
it [laughing] makes it [crunches] hardertrish calls out from her
office corner
a request for me to stop
but i can’t

snapshot she says of LA-arriving:
green mowhawk arm around
girl he’s shorter than and she
wears bondage gear over
her clothes
plus an observation of
the in-ness of camo

walking through living room where
tyler’s on snare drum and shaker
sarah’s on finger piano and
liam’s on guitar and voice
(post-dinner, post-blueberry cake, post-crokonole)
out front door into moonspill
where spring peeper chorus
(with chorus frogs on backup)
rises in waves around


from the water world:

A woman jumps into an icy water tank during the Tough Mudder 10-12-mile obstacle challenge in San Bernardino, California, USA. – voice of america, day in photos


sometimes she dangles

the purging of mind-songs
when they aren’t played to satiate
in this case it’s
the first few lines from rasputina’s
holocaust of giants

the disassembling of
newspaper-shred mouse net
burrowed in greenhouse garden bed


the word arroyo
in blue print on white
and the unexpectedness
of its appearence here
(never met word like this
imbued with such a placeness)

little punch of homesick
for a place i mostly passed through


the back-and-forth hand saw
rhythm, teeth grabbing hold
sawdust lifted away with wind

that’s a frankie-size wine glass
mica says of the shot glass

filled with the maroon of malbec
on the kitchen table


o.p.p : other people’s perfume
the scent of which smacks
upon entering rink
best pair of pants
in the world
says rink-side
that’s what i thought too
i respond regarding
unicorn vs. robot dinosuar leggings

althea’s small hand in mine
as we roll our way along
the edges of the rink
how sometimes she dangles there
but isn’t heavy enough
to pull me down with her

like katy perry
a few of the teenage girls

tell me
just like hollywood (joking)

your tails were really flying
emory reports from the back seat
to trish regarding her tux top on wheels (skates)

heading home from kahoka
clearsky bright constellations
i can point out venus and
orions belt but i need your help
pinpointing the birthplace of stars

spring has sproinged i say
while the brights shine
our way home
across one way bridges and
around 40mph county highway curves
kitten-spotting near the abandoned barn
at the top of the gravel drive
(white/light-bodied and
dark tailed)
fostering perhaps or
in the course of brenda’s re-wilding
she’s unfixed herself

how the silence sings

challah if you hear me
in black ink at the top of
the challah recipe
whose dough joseph and i
braid at the butcher block
potting up spider plants
(siblings to a taos-dwelling
rooted leafing)

bike grease plus soil
dirt layers on hands/fingers

you’ve got pirate hair joe says
in the driver’s seat
about what trish noted earlier
as an official mullet
in the hoop house

shapes of people moving
beyond porch-turned-greenhouse plastic
hung on 2×4’s while we dine
at gigi’s

emory in the seat next to me
humming along to the notes
of the pink panther song
as they’re piano=played
between scenes

i’m probably not supposed to say
this i tell renay standing in the sortof
receiving line in front of the stage
but you were my favorite

the last digital display
you’re going to see in
24 hours i joke about
the bank time/temp sign as we
drive out of town and how
we laugh when trish
points out the nest temp/time display
just down the road
candlelight reflected up out
of greenhouse water-filled bucket
while i pile wood into the stove
in order to keep seedlings warm
on this below-freezing eve

a celebration of the first night
sleeping without the
hum of walk-in cooler/freezer
rising up from below
and how the silence sings

the flicker of candles
visual echoing on the walls
of others’ open-doored rooms

with chainsaw accessories

morning hoophouse i
carpet-sit quickly stripping
in plastic-trapped sun-heat
down to sleeveless tee
while i carve a flame
into woodblock
a lightburst thrown at
the misgivings of our own glow


smell of beeswax while i lean in
carving curls of wood
with speedball knife
candle softening
in 80 degree-ness

slicing apples for seven-year olds
with gaps in their mouths from
lost teeth after i explain
the woodcarving tools
and printmaking process
and a little bit about tarot to boot

baigz, lulu and i
jingle-jamming about
pipin’ it


i’m hooked i say
atop a not-yet-split log pile
in sun sprawl
sweet rachel responds


caught sight of some hawk
greyish and low-flying while
i make my way to the top
of the first rise
of a pre-dinner run

jillian michaels’ voice
in my head as i approach
the last hill saying something
about finishing how you started
and with intention

when i rise
let me rise
like a bird
with no regrets
when i fall
let me fall
with no regrets
we sing before
handsqueezing before
serving gado gado
onto our plates
for dinner
same song later repeated
raspily on voicemail

formidable forestry crew
i say of mica, bagels and ty/marjorie
in their safety orange
with chainsaw accesories


humming brahms lullaby
while pulling layers of row cover across
brassica starts in the crumbling greenhouse

from the water world:
Locals cross a flooded river at Copiapo city, Chile. The death toll rose to four after rains battered the north and caused flooding, the government said, while 22 others were unaccounted for as the military rescued stranded villagers. – voice of america, day in photos

An Orthodox Priest blesses Sergey Semchenko of the Russian Search and Recovery Forces after having blessed the Soyuz rocket at the Baikonur Cosmodrome Launch pad in Kazakhstan. – voice of america, day in photos

first thunder

spooning cinnamony
10-grain hot breakfast cereal
(sweet with apple and maple and
leftover travel cranberries)
into my mouth i say
something about carelessness
with other people’s hearts
finger on emory’s tiny
(bottom jaw) loose tooth
wiggle it sideways he says
and i do

during appreciations
i thank friends from afar
for giving me grounding/perspective
and say something about how
good it is to know when
someone’s got my back

stirring oats and peanut butter
into melted coconut oil, vanilla, cocoa powder,milk and salt
while hum-singing along
to bon iver
lulu, mica and tyler
lounged near woodstove
and joseph drifting in
to butcher block where
emory and simon excavate
the frozen yogurt
the rain begins

first thunder! i write
on today’s calendar square
couch-perched on screened-in porch
to feel rainbreezes move through
and to watch what lightning does
to landscape
rain-on-metal-roof sound subsiding
to reveal underlying sounds
of spring peeper/chorus frog
dark-something p.m.
coyote howls arrive
in layers and waves