in the dream, i was visiting the bay area
and the streets were filled with rage and fire
and i didn’t quite know my place (out there or indoors)
and so i spent time on the porch
welcoming the swell and receeding
of street protestors and neighbors and friends
washing in and washing out
_______
the smallest massage of
ashby’s cat paws walking on me
(upper back) before he
_______
alline pouring fabric scraps out onto the table
saying it’s criminal, how long it’s been since she’s made a quilt
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a collapsable box we joke on the phone
about how to survive
how about a coffin she says
not quite what i was thinking, but, you say tomato and i… i reply
and in many ways it doesn’t even matter
what the joke is it just feels good
to laugh
_______
it is a long and warm day in the field
with the tractors and the sorghum/tobacco transplanter
and the mishaps and troubleshooting that comes with the territory of the ancient equipment
but as we’re walking out of the field
i point to the sky/clouds out to baigels just before
cynthia points the sky out to me
and all that deep skyblue with all that bright white shaped against it
is enough to take away the headache and the sense of defeat
and make it feel worth it
detail collector 