something like a heart

the sun through all
the opaque and partially filled plastic containers
linked to the scattered maple trees
by bright blue plastic tubes
something like a heart and veins,
like the wiring of a creature
beginning to fill with sap
jack and i walking a loop
from the backroad, down along old canada road, and up
sandhill road
how he trots beside me
in the muddy leafy terrain
sun at our backs,
sun at our sides,
sun on our faces
the bright orange disc
against the bright blue sky
the colors are the best, the brightest
when the frisbee passes overhead –
sun glowing through
blue bright orange bright
so bright they almost sing
pat’s mango upside down cake
and pineapple upside down cake
and plain upside down cake and
some with brownsugar pecans and
some without and all made with love
for jeauxseph’s 39th birthday
(one decorated w/ a beeswax taper candle
due to lack of actual birthday cake candles
and the other decorated with a
crepe paper fold out flamingo
atop a bendy straw)


calling out the things we can see

em in his high-up-there tree perch
and me in my close-to-the-ground tree hammock
(of two fallen trunks, horizontalish, running side by side)
calling out the things we can see from where we are
to find out if the other can see them as well
such as: the whitehouse roof
the tiny black dots on the nearby tree trunk
the horse barn
and the three slightly varying patches of gray overhead
in a seemingly single-gray colored sky
the cacophony of birds
which is more like clouds of song
and less like noise
as em and i add long dead skinny limbs
to the fort of tree island
perched on the rusted dusty greenhouse table/shelf/ledges 
emory and i take turns picking cards and discarding
playing several rounds of rummy
and keeping score with a sharpie on the back of a used seed packet
eric and i knocked out
with day-after-the-first-ultimate-frisbee-games
from our ribs to our calves,
how we are paused in time with the pain
for a while around the lunch hour
kris describing that sweet smell
of the first spring day of open windows
how it fills a room, a house, a heart
how there is no sweetness like it
while i revel in the spring-ness
peppered with climate-change concern

zooming away from

emory, toting water out to the coop
reporting how poc-poc and the ducks (which would be a great band name)
don’t get along with the rest of the other chickens yet
so they have to be fed and watered separately 
the paths soft under my booted feet,
the ice that has been frozen for weeks 
(on the pond, in the cat water bowls) finally melting,
the lightness this brings my body
wool sock by wool sock
i drape the laundry over the folded-open collapsable rack
which i have carried from across the way
and set up near the whitehouse kitchen wood stove
the unusual sight,
from a glance out the kitchen window,
of one of our ducks 
in all its white black green plus strange duck eyes
on the garden shed roof peak
upon seeing the other team strategizing
about playing zone as we go into our next point
i confer with my teammates and ask what our strategy should be,
score with decorum mark says
the brown/gold and a little bit blue and gray
of the softening/defrosting world
zooming away from me
from my perch on top of slabs and rounds of wood
in the back of the toyota truck
weighing it down
for gription against the soft ground and ice/snow

the empanada-with-samosa-dough station
glow and i set up at the butcher block
which includes: dough ball making,
dough ball flattening (with tortilla press)
and filling and fork-crimping
from the water world:

An Orthodox believer bathes in the icy water on Epiphany at a hole in Dnipro river in Kiev, Ukraine. Thousands of Ukrainian Orthodox Church followers plunged into icy rivers and ponds across the country to mark Epiphany, cleansing themselves with water deemed holy for the day. (AP Photo/Evgeniy Maloletka) – voice of america, day in photos
A young girl takes bath near her home at Prek Kmeng village, Kandal province, eastern side of Phnom Penh, Cambodia. Prek Kmeng is a well-known place for selling smoked fish as its located at the middle of a large lake in Kamdal province. (AP Photo/Heng Sinith) –  voice of america, day in photos


just to listen to the sound of something wild

the thing
that makes my day is the pinnies/mesh jerseys
that christina ordered
and how i joked about hot pink and low and behold
there we are, javi, baigz and i
donning the hot pink with black trim pinnies
chasing that disc and
cheering each other on

post-frisbee and ted and i are the only two
at the pond’s edge
so quiet i can hear the sound
of water in to water
drizzle drops hitting pond surface
how every time i get on a bike out here
i tell myself it’s been too long
including today
pedaling through the little spits of rain
and all that fall color coming in
the squash kachina
arriving early (as birthdays go)
from chimayo
and how i can almost smell
the pinon smoke and certainly hear
debbie and liz’s voices and
laddie’s bark and the sound of water
from the sacred spring
reminding me
how it is something fierce
the ways i carry land and people in me
the view from stephen’s storage storage shed/office
behind the house
(trees, shrubbery, grasses)
while we talk rhythm and line breaks and
what is dust? somehow 
the way eric asks the question in the back seat as the four of us ride home
through the wet wet rain
on the wet wet gravelroads
plus all the dust-induced sneezes and wheezes
(post-clothing swap
where shirts and skirts and scarfs and socks all sailed overhead
as the auctioners tossed them to the bidders
[though there was no money involved
just eager hands signaling])
makes me laugh the kind of laugh which spirals into more laugh which means other people spiral into it too and then there are tears and then even more of the kind of laughlaugh that i often get the feeling i should suppress when it gets like this but why – when it feels so ridiculosu and good and other people are in the boat too?

electricity flickering off for 30 seconds
here and there as we dine on front porch perch
while rain goes torrential
and the lightning shocks loose
i don’t know what kind of rule book it is
but in my book that contains the rule
for silence curing coyote calls – just to listen to the sound
and its sacredness of something wild
still alive out there,
there is another rule about turning out all the lights
just to watch the scraggles and illuminations
of lighting while a storm pounds and passes

the rain that never came

super bulk! i call out to emory who,
in order to transport all the extra layers – we removed from his hooks in the back hallway pileup has donned every single item of clothing
super bulk! he echoes/calls back
before running the clothes down to lookfar before heading out to school
the rain that never came
(which means frisbee was still on and all the lawn got mowed and all the logs up on slater’s hill were picked up and hauled off and the laundry dried on the line)

something hilarious about frisbee,
chortling and doubling over
at the bad throws and the missed catches and how we get stuck turning over and turning over in the corner of the east endzone

the purple shinyish new berlin
eisenhower high school soccer jersey
that robbie love wears in honor of our recent discovery
of having attended the same high school – having graduated 16 years apart
and i am surprised/impressed that the jersey seems ot be the exact same version of the jersey of 20-some years ago
and it turns out it may well be 
from that era
(my teammates found this old box of jerseys  he says)

baigz dishing out wedges of his flourless chocolate cake
which i probably shouldn’t eat this late (caffeine) but i do
along with a dollop of ‘ice cream’
(frozen banana blended up with just shelled hazelnuts)
meet you in the lionbrary  she says
which is different than the enclosure and the savannah
and everytime i hear it
i can’t help but laugh at the sweet awkwardness
of the word

it is ours she writes
of the moon
it follows us home

wherein i joke about a course named
finding out how hard the floors are
and the course is at capacity
when one student enrolls
the thin gauze/veil/scrim clouds
traveling surprisingly fast
across the glow of the almost-full moon
as seen from cool ranch porch 

the task that awaits

shit buckets! ted calls out on the field referring to both:
the task that awaits him after the game and
a missed toss

the cool cool blessing of pond
washing over shoulders,
over cheekbones, over elbows
almost too cold at first
but not long after, perfect
for paddling and kicking and flotaing under
a cloud-swathed sky

the sound that shoulders and shirts and
heels of palms make
against the dark hard wood
white gravel dust gathered on the backs of our skirts
from the sunset spot
where the half-live oak grows
tonight, it is a pink orb swathed in gray/purple
a survivor’s reunion she says
as we slice the perfect (in flavor) and marred (in rotting-ness) peaches
that we gathered a few nights ago
up on the neighbor’s hill
the black walnut that throws me (in clogs)
off onto my palms
on the side of the path

a lion
in the enclosure
draping over the edge
arm dangling

a flying scrap of paper
written with initials and symbols
fluttering down from the treehouse
once unfolded revealing lines about hammocks and holding and home

but then we become the breeze

what wakes me is the rattle-rumble
of thunder (heard beyond the fan-in-the-window-hum)
moving in from the northwest and so i sit
in the early light on the porch in my pjs
(which, curently – due to the extreme heat, is a pair of underwear)
to feel the cool lilts in the breeze
move over me
before the first drizzle drops 
(a tiny bit of cool relief)
hit my skin
and i want to say something about this light
the whiteness of it
at an early hour
already warm mica says
tying her cleats on
at the edge of the field
sun pushing clouds aside and landing
everywhere between the end zones
but then we become the breeze
and the motion of moving through
brings the built-in-cooling-power
of sweat
the blighty dots on the leaves and some of the fruits
chopmed and damaged
how i curse the blister beetles in the tomates
as i pluck gold orbs
(some damaged, some not)
from the branches
the bones suit
providing answers and guides
propped up against
my desk wall