amongst the simmer

3.something  (9?) trish says joe said
of the collected water in the
rain gauge
this morning while we compile
a gigantic list of beds to be weeded,
beds to be harvested,
beds to be mulched,
seeds to be gathered,
etc.
all of which mo says
is totally doable
which is a great way
to think about it
________

small bucket of soapy water
that i drop the blister beetles into
(off edamame plants and green bean plants)
how they struggle before they
fold open in surrender
which is really another way of saying
how they kick and whirl and struggle as they drown
and then a stillness
death
and how i hate/acknowledge/don’t know how to reconcile
this over-and-over again phenomenon of
destroying homes
taking lives
in order to grow our vegetables
________
yellowblackblue of a
huge swallowtail butterfly landing
in the almost-flouresecent pink rows
of celosia (cockscomb)
rippling color
________
the squish squish i report to mo
of the runner rugs under my bare feet this morning
after last night’s deluge
________
matt and caroline and the rest
of the destemming/squishing crew
(of collard/kale processing) in karma kitchen
talking amongst the simmer of the
pots of blanching water
and the whirl/hum of the fan facing the window
(to draw out the heat)
about how dreams are our processing place,
how babies (like their 14 month old)
sleep so much
for many reasons, but one being
that they need a place
for processing all the newness
________

i appreciate your spice profile
matt says
to tyler as we eat that familiar
tahini with fennel veggie
kirtan dish
________
sound of matt’s oboe
and his breath moving through it
post-dinner drifting
from the porch
________
the fork of the fabius river
that crosses under county line road
wider and faster than i’ve ever seen it
muddy-looking with swirls
of movement
as cynthia and i bridge-perch
under sunset sky
_________

climbing up along the downed oak trunk
that the previous storm took down
on the goode’s land
old and hollow yet
there is still a twiggy branch
with green leaves growing off it
and cynthia mentions the topo maps
she used to explore her world with

 

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Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, writing

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