from this distance

morning south america quiz
on the small map where, perfectly, the shapes
of countries are distinct and the names
printed on them are illegible
from this distance i work my way
up from the south starting
with chile
_______

emory offering a pastry from the box
(baklava and other filo dough and sweet and nut combos)
that joseph brought back form chicago
on his jaunt near union station
_______

cluster of ladybugs (at least 25) huddled
on a panel of an empty flat that i pull
out from under greenhouse shelf to fill
with fresh-pressed soil blocks
_______

frankie flower-grower and sissy cynthia we laugh
at lunch about the herb gardener vs. the flower farmer
reality tv show
_______

sound of plastic sheet lifting/falling in the wind
while i work the soilblock mix
like bread dough in the greenhouse
_______

the dangle of roots as i
unearth the tomato starts (amish paste) from
their densely packed rows before lowering
them into the little fingertip-widened pits
in rows of compost-sand-coir blocks
_______

tossing the ridiculous poncho
(huge pink flower design with bright green and yellow too)
on over my hoodie for a pre-dinner jaunt through the
cold front to take in the moody/complex
cold-hits-warm, gray-on-white parting
to spill out some blue sky
______

hot shot stan says about the surgeon
who i jokingly call toblerone and whose car name
we don’t know how to pronounce
_______

it’s the new personality typing trish jokes
at the kitchen table about which tattoo
you’d get near/around your asshole
_______

tulsi rose tea steeping
in bullet-shaped thermos,
one small serving poured into
lia-made cup (powdery-tealish glaze)
which she sent from encinitas for
my 39th birthday

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Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, writing

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