the pain flames so

if i were to order new legos i say
as emory decides how he wants to trick out
his flyer/skimmer plane/craft
i would just get more colors
to make more color blocks
which somehow, in their infinite possiblitity
of color/shape/compatibility
(which makes me think my inner designer
nerd is coming out seems to never cease
to delight me
emory and i walking
with our arms outspread skimming the water
picking up speed and collapsing ourselves
at the ‘shore’ of the tiny pond beach
making waves
before introducing me to the
arms and legs of the butterfly stroke
before we take turns, both of us going underwater,
one of us yelling or seinging or barking or
cranking out vocalizations of some sort
while the other listens and reports
back on what they hear

downy emory says of the feathers
below the neck of the runner duckling/adolescent
whose light brown and white flecks
i pet
the hummingbird in the tallest orangest zinnia
emory points out from our perches in the pine tree
how i lay leaves
as flooring and stepping stones and emory arranges
the twigs restoring
the collapsed faerie house in the fortsythia
the mailbox is still standing i note
must mean mail is pretty important/useful to them
and em explains the reasons they (the faeries) might
not have liked that last structure so much but that this one
with its twig-leaf roofing
is better put together
riots in milwaukee baigz says
in the kitchen and when i say
let me guess …  the cops
shot and killed another
young black man
the crestfall already has begun
and if i’m not sharpening my oyster knife now
then tell me, what else is there to do
the bottle of almond extract
and bag of coconut
alline sends back with trish and baigz

the things joanna macy says
in her on being interview with krista tippet
while i slice tomatoes
chop onions
shred carrots:
my world itself was  sacred, yes, of course it was

if we can be fearless to be with our pain,
it turns – it doesn’t stay static
it only doesn’t change if we refuse to look at it,
when we look at it, when we take it in our hands,
when we can be with it and just keep breathing,
then it turns to reveal its other face,
and the other face of our pain for the world
is our love for the world,
our absolutely inseparable connectedness with all of life

world as lover, world as self
it’s ok for our hearts to be broken over the world,
what else is a heart for?
there’s a great intellegence there –
our earth is our larger body
we breathe it
we taste it,
we are it and it’s time now
to venerate this incredible flowering of life
that takes every aspect of our physicality

there’s a song that wants to sing itself
through us

like i am holding my hands
in the flame of a stovetop burner
i report of these hands
whose skin i worry might blister
due to a hot pepper mishap
and the pain flames so hard
i keep thinking i’m seeing people and animals
that aren’t there and it’s hard
to follow through/concentrate
on preparing the simplest meal and i try
soaking/pouring everything over the burning
(milk, vinegar, baking soda paste, cold water, scrubbing with dish soap, coconut oil, aloe, calamine, lemon juice)
which makes me think of people
lost and so thirsty/dehydrated in the desert
that as they walk, they strip off all their clothes,
have been known to drink anything found including
antifreeze and will stuff their mouths
with handfuls of dirt and sand
to quench the body-fever/organs-shutting-down thirst

how even though the color/burn of sunset sky
looks like new mexico’s
i tell myself
this is our (missouri’s) sky
it belongs right here
and something like
pressing my chest to the ground
in gratitude and reverence is one way
to welcome it in

and how this movement
hands moving through cool air along with the rest
of my body
soothes the hand-burn
from the water world:
Flooded homes are seen off of LA-1064 in Hammond, Louisana, after heavy rains inundated the region. – voice of america, day in photos


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