drips from the bucketful of
socks i’m washing momentarily
syncing up with the ticks
of the karma kitchen clock second hand
_______
the cool edge (of fall) i say
is slicing into everything
_______
when i can see your
name or number come up
and not react
with anxiousness or
heart-race
an official sign that i have passed through
gate two out of the breakup/breakthrough garden
_______
3pm run to the train bridge and back
wind whipping across the corn stalk stubs
(fields just shaved) and when it gets difficult
i think of the fact that i am allowed this freedom
and send a fist pump to those that aren’t
so that they may get a sense
of how it feels to range
across gravel roads
up/down their hills
with views of the great vastness
of horizon on all sides
today, all it takes is the wind at my back
to make my limbs
my muscles feel more
than capable
_______
embarrassing i say and laugh
about the weight of my bags (food, computer, mostly)
as trish assists in the unloading
and i say i can handle it
i’m on the prairie now
_______
first the sound
then the sight
of a line of geese
low to ground
angling east
followed by a flock of
starlings? grackles?
like a solid thing breaking to bits
as they take to sky
in a movement from north to south above me
as i bike, wind in my hair, along the
well worn red earth walk
_______
steam rising under kitchen table lamp
from tiger milk concoction
(tumeric, cinnamon, nutmeg and a splash of maple)
while outside
the thick dark of prairie night
wraps around
_______
in pink chalk i write
on the kid’s height chalkboard
i am a commitment to fearless love
to which i add
a blue heart
_______
mister (white with black splotches,
some of them perfect circles)
purring and stretched at my side
in the fluff of a down blanket
_______
from the water world:
A man and a young girl covers themselves from the rain with a banana leaf in the sea on the outskirts of Colon City, Panama. – voice of america, day in photos
detail collector 