curving eventually home

the orange haze/light
all day long:
the sun long before it sets
a red/orange dot
one can look at with the naked eye and the moon
a golden parchmenty thing
all because a part of the continent
is on fire
because running towards with arms outstretched on the train platform
seems to be the only proper way to greet an all-day traveler,
a person with porpoises, a writer who’s here to break hearts in useful ways

the white markings of a nighthawk
dive-bombing the sedan i slowly drive
through the darkness of county highways
curving eventually home
the blue white red glow
of the lit-up bridge that spans the mississippi
which separates the drawn borders
of illinois from missouri
though we’re still in motion here,
we’re beginning to land

the poem
read aloud from the turns out i am a genius book
that involves dull knives, belt loops, train trestles and spinning heads

the thing about the hardness of floors and
the grab-a-bility of fabric and the sharpness of teeth and the right placement
of a neckercheif and the shape of a handprint and the hours,
how the hours dissolve expand contract stretch out shrink and disappear
until the very insistent rooster
is calling out the same thing he always calls out
look at me!!!! look at me!!!!!!

halo-ing out

maybe he’s really altruistic we are talking about the rooster again
who is perhaps calling out to remind us to feed the cats or saying the sun is awesome!  or your left shoe laces are untied! you’re going to trip! 
or quoting that mary oliver poem, the part that goes what are you going to do with your one wild and prrecious life?

promise you’ll hurt my feelings i ask/say
over our egg and respective 10-grain / oatmeal breakfasts
served savory with green chili achaar

the joke about the minister tossing the contents
of the collection basket up in the air and only taking
what god doesn’t grab
and how we are delirious
laughing to tears over this
picnic table positioned in full sun we
slice the reds and oranges and yellows of
cherry tomato after cherry tomato
and grid them out onto dehydtrator screens
which we are careful when we carry
because of how they wobble-roll

power pellets i say of the salted brown butter chocolate bar
i set out on the kitchen table
to help us through the mopping, the sweeping, the swirling up of dust and the epic fridge purging and the flower arranging

lots of lighti say up in the karma room loft
where the white of it all
washes in 
with the swings as base (seats and chains)
in the almost-dusk light
shrieking and howling, hearts pounding and out of breath
emory, eric, jennifer and i
tagging each other IT
as the ground underneath our feet turns cool


the almost gold-glitter light
halo-ing out
from just-up moon
we exchange every day magics
including the shadows of fingers across faces
in the silver/gold light
falling out onoto our cheekbones, our foreheads and the angles of our noses