the ache that runs

trish and i capoeira-inspired-eye-contact cartwheeling
between points down the frisbee field
red black butterfly
fluttering under rainfall
before climbing into the shelter
of a gap in the stacked wood


either way i say
(whether sticking it out or
deciding it’s done)
you grow
you are challenged
you work
and your heart breaks
you’ve got to write that down alline says
at the table where we sit with our
calendars and morning tea/coffee
on the screened porch

overheard: don’t ever use orange on metal
accompanied by construction site sounds
involving wood and humans and metal


unnamed phenomenon: the pleasure of landing in a
clear new space with a few strategic and familiar
items and arrangements (tarot deck, sparkly shoes
shining back at me, a stack of books and a place to
drape the hoodie) and the sensation of
feeling home

it’s not to say i may not find
myself walking backwards through it
i tell jennifer at the sprawling potluck
picnic table but i have passed through
a first gate


cardigan compliments me
on my bangs says they
remind him of the die antwoord
musician’s hair

sip of melanie’s kinky pink drink
that smells and tastes like candy
and whose color matches the
cloud patches scattered
across sunset sky

bleat of goats
on sunset walk as a
follow their fenceline
into the field

an attempt to gua sha the ache
that runs up to elbow

detail sent from long lost mama wolf:




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