putting grief on posters

sneaking in a post-lunch chapter
(not that i even intended to sneak it in
but i just happened to open the book
sent by my be-fry called truth and beauty
by ann patchett about her fellow writer/dear friend lucy grealy

and grieving her fellow writer/dear friend)
perfectly lengthed for such appetizer-indulgings

later, i read an article by lucy’s sister
calling out ann for going public
with private lives
for putting the grief on posters
in bookshop windows
_______
the sortof surrealness of

amped guitar and drums
garage punk style
sound swirling out from studio
drifting over north garden
down gravel roads
up through black walnut branches
_______

edamame attempt three
i poke seeds into sandy north garden soil
in the parting of mulch
where failed flowers grew
_______

descending second last hill
freshly graded gravel under running shoes
thinking about a gesture to
all the folks (a tiny sum, it seems)
i have allowed to
deeply take care of me
or to witness me in my sick/scared/hurt [not being the self i want to be] moments
and the sacredness of that opening
and how the inbreath outbreath of running
fight the
throatlump of gratitude tears
_______

like siblings i comment about
charlie and tookie who
have known each other since kindergarten
and grew up several blocks apart
_______
dialed
she says naming how

it is when we dive into
and later: i mean it as a compliment
_______
i dressed up
i say for the movie

motioning to the pink sparkly footwear
i donned just for the walk to the couch
_______

tookie and charlie
laughing about
what kindof name
is johnny castle!?
_______
oh i … had the time of my life
and i’ve never felt this way before…
songburst in upstairs karma as

mica opens the door
to let cool moon-sparkled air in
_______
from the water world:
06E29587-68E1-4A6D-903A-DC9C25DA89DD_w974_n_s

An Indian boy dressed as Hindu god Shiva to attract alms from devotees chats with tourists as they sit on benches partially submerged in flood waters on the banks of the River Ganges in Allahabad. – voice of america, day in photos

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Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, writing

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