as she shapes

i am focused
i have clarity
i work hard
i trust what i’m doing
i repeat (chorus-like) on the final power-leg
(mostly downhill) of this morning’s run
_______
courtney mentions the pink
of the morning sky which followed
last night’s full moon and choruses
of coyote calls
_______

ne’epa eating ice cream for breakfast/lunch
and using a typewriter for the first time
and even though i hate the word cute i can’t help
but ask if she went to cute school
this morning
_______
how i offer my pause to the sangres
as seen from just past the footbridge
of frenchy’s field and how because of
the light, the clouds, the shapes and the growing
things, there are too many
colors to count
_______
the shine i give the surface of another
small pinch pot using my
pointer finger like one would a river
rock – to burnish
_______
magdalena as she shapes
her pot, talking about how late
in life her first ocean
encounter was because her mom had difficulty
with the dirt of it – the trailing in
of the sand so her mom
never took them
to the beach
_______
50-something or maybe even 60’s
the temperature reads which is why
i have to put my body out there under
the white feathering itself across otherwise
blue sky under the glow of late afternoon sun
feet on pedals pushing forward
_______
palmful of curry roasted cashews
that, when i sahke them, sound like seeds
in a rattle
_______

quanice derrick hayes amy writes
say his name
a 17 year old (who goes by moose)
black young man killed by the portland cops

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Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, writing

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