desire to shed

in the dream
i have arrived at the wurlitzer
for this year’s fall session

and (in typical dream style)
it is the same but different
the most different is: michael losing his patience and
pitching an angry fit over the phone for the
better part of an hour in the next room
while the rest of us fellows gather
around a table of welcome-goodies
i exchange cheek kisses w/ violeta
and i hug natascha and howl out after her
at the end of the day when everyone
heads back to their casita
and i am in hysterics because
even though there is a key most likely waiting for me
under the mat, i am also furious about
not being granted the residency
off the waiting list when they both were
and there is magnificent light
across a magnificent sky
_______

go out there and get ’em cowboy
i sign off my morning phone moment
with corinne while finishing up
a one-egg omelet accompanied
by a slice of nic’s bread
_______

baigz dancing around in gravel road
under the swirling of yellowed leaves
proclaiming it’s fall
_______

my nose deep in a
mason jar bouquet
of just-cut snapdragons
call it one of the deepest senses
of contentment
_______

take it to the dentist i joke with trish
about the teeth of our once-exceptional saw
as i assist on chopping the legs off of
the cube-frame which will become part of
the table that holds the rocket stoves
_______

9×12 glass pan of golden
brownies on kitchen table
whose secret ingredient (an herb)
it takes us a while to taste/guess
(coriander)
_______

sibling rivalry trish and i joke
across the couch about
the years we each first got here

_______

emory in safety glasses
taking hammer to gigantic geodes
harvested at the river today
(how utterly happy/pumped that
bucket of rocks makes him)
he offers me the other half
of one of the tiny’s
whose portable size is perfect for my
desire to shed and be portable myself
_______

thin lines of sunset light
falling through the spaces
between outdoor kitchen siding
_______
something serious about this
desert homesickness how
the sunset here could resemble the
sunset there and for one reason
or another the way it
unfurls across sky
(red as a neon sign
layered with dusty purple and
the deep dark of green trees/land below)
draws up an ache the way
a bucket draws up water
from a well

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Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, writing

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