maybe even perfect

when joe sees me in the lab sewing
he assumes it’s a costume
if you call sewing a pad into a pair of underwear
a costume, then yes, i call out from the chair parked in front
of the machine as it stitches
it’s mostly packaging i write
on the postcard accompanying the cracker sampler
wrapped and stamped and addressed to peninsular ave
trish in her neonish pink/yellow aerodynamic looking leggings
at the art cuts booth
while mo brushes on the facepaint
and i (sequin/fishnet donning)
type the poems perched precariously in a wheeled chair
on curvy boards on pallets stacked
while cynthia blows the coach whistle
around her neck hollering out in her coach gear
to get the field day games started
as the sun finally
spills sweet lemondrop light
through the thinning clouds

this is what sandhill turning 42 looks like
WE NEED YOU!!!! i heckle/call out to the onlookers
who are choosing not to dance the maypole
while those of us holding the ends of ribbons
wait for all the ribbons to get scooped up
as we get ready to weave
stan in his rainbow tie dye shirt and rainbow stripe
do-rag/cap sit-dancing backwards on the chair
is hoisted up by many hands into the air
his body gently rise-falling as the hands that hold the chair legs
lift and lower while the hava nagila
is played by baigz, tyler and joseph in the background
and how mo and i can’t stop laughing
leaning into the just-woven may pole to hold us up
as we watch the rest of the chair sitters
grip the seat as they slide with the liftings/fallings
darien asks for a poem
from the story he tells of
almost almost slicing a snake in half with his scythe
but missing, because he was taking time/moving slow and then
the next day, scything quickly
he slices it,
viscera bursting out
as it slithers into a hole
how all i read is the first two lines
of the day’s last poem-to-go
(when i say don’t come back
i mean...)
and already there are tears
on her face-painted cheek
but after a few breaths she asks
me to start again
says, ok, i think i’m ready now
stan leading the spiral-ish dance that circles and whirls
and weaves through the back yard to the song
old friends new friends
let me tell you how i feel
you have given me such pleasure
i love you so
photobooth (80’s bed sheet

with sailboat/sunset orange/yellow photographic image
as backdrop) with costume box on the side
how i jump in and bomb
baigz and trish
while rae snaps away
moonstar the fabulously all black cat
with soft shine for a coat
perched on the thinnest smallest ledge
outside my window
for what seems to be the duration of the day
mew mew meowing
to be let in to sleepcurl
on my bed
put your faith in the wind
medicine bear and the herbal remedies
violining and accordianing and singing
under cover of the outdoor kitchen
which is set against the glow of
all-green spring
coated in post-rain haze
how it’s special to be
serenaded by a band from out of town
and how it’s even more special
maybe even perfect
to listen surrounded by revelers
belly full
backdrop (this land) lookin goood in its layers
of emeralds as if it too
dressed up for the celebration
how i am laughing so hard
around the fire amongst the band
(feeling taken-under-wing like)
while we joke back-forth before singing along
to the accordian a when doves cry/white winged dove
mash up

from the water world:

A flotilla of small water craft form a blockade preventing shipping access to Australia’s largest coal port in Newcastle, north of Sydney. – voice of america, day in photos


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