team shred

yesterday’s just-outside-the-window
rumply bumpy toad
still nestled in its
pummy-roofed perch
i greet (gender-neutral pronoun other than ‘it’ to refer to animals by)
with a morning how-do-you-do gaze
_______
caleb cheering the cob statue-making crew on
offers coffee
while we stomp
in the name of some
baigz birthday love
_______

how i hum the can-can and
the cob-stompers
jovially dance
_______

looping and knotting
baling twine
late morning
while sheen of sweat
battles bug lotion slick
up towards limb skin surface
_______
repeated sensation of
reaching into sealed glass jar
(first, the dried apple jar
later, the chocolate chip jar)
and touching cooler air
than the air outside of the jar –
like a miniature version of
stepping into a basement
on a hot day
_______

wait til you see... mica disappears
into her room
sound of scissors and fabric
and emerges with a
shredded/woven tshirt creation
which goes from awesome
to super-awesome
(after more shredding and weaving)
and we imagine a whole try-athalon crew
named team shred
_______

pretending my limbs
are tree limbs we
scramble through apple branches
i will shake you from my branch i say to emory
in my best tree voice
which happens to have a
english accent
if you rip a leaf (ouch!)
or break a branch (ouch!)
_______

emory and i at the
edge of the black raspberry thicket
not-quite-arguing about
who uses the machete
as we embark upon our
frisbee rescue expedition
_______

how we hear the rain in the oaks
on the slater’s hill first
before it makes its way across south garden
and onto our heads
where we practice our forehand
frisbee moves
_______

tri-colored cats
mica reports back from
an earlier conversation with mae
are always female
and we take a moment to
be awed
by genetics
_______

she asks me how to make chili
and i say i don’t know, i never do
and later (too late), tapping into latent cafe memories
i offer: saute onions first, then garlic, then
add veggies and spices, then tomato and beans_______

didn’t expect that she says
about the actual tears
(about home
when she finally found it
which meant foster-ish
featuring the dude-closest-to-a-dad
who passed away today)
that followed the post-onion tears_______

fascinating i say
but not in a tokenizing/specimin kindof way
but in a i’m at your side
taking it all in kindof way

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, writing

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s