Tag Archives: water

when things get rattle-y

the long awaited torrents
released from sky
clouds finally giffing way
after weeks of nothing but teases
how i thiank the rushes and droplets
on behalf of the kale and the asters and the cucumbers and dahlias 

_______
the thinnest film of a rainbow appearing in the east
how aeric and i both know the rainbow recipe
and keep looking out to scan sky
me at the dehydrator fussing with the cherry tomatoes and him
at the butcher block laying out hand made pasta
_______

a photo of the tappet brothers searched and sent
for when things get rattle-y and kerthumpity
_______
the sheen of silvery scales
found on karma counter
at the far end of the butcher block
_______
from the water world:

This handout picture released by Society 4 Climate Change Communication Sierra Leone, shows flooded streets in Regent near Freetown. – voice of america , day in photos

Leave a comment

Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, writing

when the gusts pick up

lean in i say lean in and savor it
not that he’s asking for advice
but this is what i offer
in the strawberry patch
regarding his current matters of the heart
_______
how are you with bird sounds
i ask and ask around again 
while we dig up strawberries for runners and while we crunch on crackers and carrot dip
so i can know the name of the bird
whose sound keeps captivating me
(later, after mica searches ‘magical sound’ and ‘forest bird’ she finds it: the wood thrush
and when i look it up in the bird book
i’m punched a little by the phrase declining in numbers in recent years)
_______
the wind shaking juniper berries out of the cedar tree
and the tray of ground cherry halves i guard
when the gusts pick up
so the detritus doesn’t land
on the sliced open fruits
laid out across the dehydrator trays
_______
the green smily face in the middle of the cross section
of the ginormous cherry tomato i just cut in half and when i see it
i cannot help but laugh
outloud
_______
emory tossing each clean item of his laundry (tshirts and shorts mostly)
just plucked from the line
onto the porch floor – which is a notoriously dusty surface
to fold them
_______
emory, eric and in
seated around the computer screen in the office laughing
at the beginnings of home alone 
which, turns out, is surprisingly more engaging
than i had anticipated
_______
how the moon
not yet full, but getting there
sends light through the trees so that i don’t need
do flick on the headlamp
on my way down the footpath
behind the priv
along the mushroom logs
to sugar shack

_______
from the water world:

People sit in water and play mahjong at a water park on a hot day in Chongqing, China. – voice of america , day in photos

Leave a comment

Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, Uncategorized, writing

this wildness

the white ones eric says in the small sea of dark purple-pink light pink and white cosmos
smell like george michael
which i find fucking hilarious because
none of us know what george michael smells like
but in a weird way, i sortof get it
not that i necessarily agree
_______
a burst of sun and then the relief when it grays over again
while the crew of us
(baigz, trish, kris, eric, ryan and me)
tug away at weeds that i resent
for being allowed to become this wildness
_______
how i curse the hornworm damage
or is it blister beetle
(dififcult to tell – perhaps both)
in the tomatoes and ask them
to please take only what they need
and save the rest kindly for us
_______
the small graybrown snake
squiggling itself across the wooded path
past the mushroom yard
towards cool ranch
and then, a good look at the groundhog
that sometimes pops out from under cool ranch
whose fur is much whiter/grayer
than i remember
_______
the double-wow of the two heaping apple pies
that eric produces from the oven
left to cool in their glass pans on wire racks whie we all play a round of affirmation
_______
we can’t talk eric says to kris and i
until we see a cow
as we walk the gravel back road
on kris’s last night
two of us wearing shoes
and one (kris) not
and at first we are reverent
but then, we are moonwalking and
gesturing and laughing
on our way
_______
since we have such good tea parties
we could be called menage a tea
eric says in the candlelit sangha
after the second bell has rung
_______

the velvet royal sky
dusted with star sparks and then the moon
waxing, but not far along from new
turning sepia/gold
slowly as it lowers
_______
from the water world:

Commuters cross a flooded street on a wooden plank after heavy rains from tropical storm “Nesat” inundated some parts of metropolitan Manila, Philippines. – voice of america, day in photos

A bonnet macaque drinks water offered by a devotee during the Hindu festival of Nag Panchami, which is celebrated by worshipping snakes to honor the serpent god, inside a temple on the outskirts of Bengaluru, India. – voice of america, day in photos

Leave a comment

Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, writing

sunflower summer 

wrestling ginormous weeds
(foxtail, lamb’s quarters, pokeberry and other six foot wonders)
from the pea beds we clear out
to plant fall carrots and beets
and afterwords we (kris, eric, baigz and i) are covered
in the drydusty earth we kicked up
_______
incoming i call out as emory and eric
launch potatoes (fruits of last year’s spring planting experiment)
across the south garden beds we are in the process of making over
(de-trellising, weeding, removing mulch, hoeing up the beds and cutting furrows down the length of them
_______
no need to walk when we can just swim wherever we need to go  i joke about
the thousand-percent humidity
the day has come to be made of
_______
sunflower summer is what i call it
because of the great presence of towering glowing beauties
parading up the edges of beds in north garden
and along the greenhouse’s western wall
and some in south garden too
and a few popping up along the cistern and near the old north garden compost pile
_______
the sound of aeresol cans being shaken
heard on the train bridge
where meat curtains becomes great curtains!
and cock becomes cock-a-doodle-doo! 
and where someone also asserts that
dj nasty pants like to party amongst other exclamations that simply state:
bless
dance
pool party
sex
_______
unnamed phenomenon: that time of year (here) where everything in its natural and wild state becomes just a bit too unbearable:
all the layers of the night insect chorus  so thick and intermittently piercing
woven tight and so loud
that ti’s difficult to hear beyond five or ten feet in any direction
or
the grass and weeds sprung up and gone wild
sometimes 10 feet into the air (pokeweed)
which means anytime one must walk past them (along the path in the herb garden to the shitter or up the stairs to the whitehouse or into karma or the bike shed or down the path to cool ranch or swimming deep in them while uprooting them in the old pea beds or cosmos beds or edamame beds) they brush against bared skin (which, at this time of year, is a lot) and it’s too much
one might say even the heat at this time of year (mid 90’s for four days straight – heat index registering at 105) is too much
_______
the dark of a new-ish moon night
decorated by the trillings 
moving back and forth (call/response)
of eastern screech owls
who are my sweetest favoritest bird sound
of the summer 

_______

from the water world:

Commuters use a rickshaw to cross a flooded street amid heavy rainfall in Dhaka, Bangladesh. – voice of america, day in photos

A man walks on the dry riverbed of the Ticino river in the Ponte delle Barche, Boats Bridge area, in Bereguardo, near Pavia, northern Italy, July 25, 2017.

Leave a comment

Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, writing

the kind of blue that lets light through

yeah, we could call it burning the man
i joke while we all joke on the front porch at lunch about how sandhill
becoming a festival
at which dj deep dish is a wedding officiant
and attendees can choose from a menu of five options
of what kind of ceremony they’d like
(hip hop being one of them)
_______
wearing steel toed combat boots and walking in formation to sit at a desk in an office kris talks about the weird comedic experience
of being a fema/americorps volunteer
and how we wore these shirts that said FEMA in huge letters on the back
and it was like wearing a ‘kick me’ sign, people hate FEMA
_______
a kind of summer victory:
tightening the final knot of the final string of twine of the final tomato trellising
not that the plants are done growing
but that the Tposts are only so tall
_______
there is something quaint
about tying brown bags around already-bloomed sunflower heads
to catch their seeds before the birds pluck them out
some things are just
that simple
_______
the drone/whine/buzz
of two hummingbirds divebombing the red-yellow sunflowers
at the south edge
of south garden
_______
me in my sandals and skirt and sleeveless tee
walking west on the gravel road that i first cut my gravel-road-biking teeth on (literally)
sentence by sentence whispering intentions
my finger hooked through the water bottle cap
which dangles and sways with each step
_______
and the sky:
broad feathery streaks
of luminescent cloud
painted across it,
the sky itself a dome
painted the kind of blue that lets light through
and beginning to copper and gold-rose
at the edges
_______
from the water world

People take a foot bath at a park in Tokyo’s Roppongi district, Japan. – voice of america, day in photos

Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized

into a darkness flickering

the victory
of harvesting
two five-gallon buckets
of the season’s first tomatillos
that i thought were all going to be decimated
by the great tomatillo-eating worm
that decimated them last year
_______
ice cream advisory eric says about the current and predicted weather conditions
which boast a heat index of 103
_______
exiting the movie theater (stan’s old room with the AC unit on in the window – tonight’s feature: footloose, the original)
into a darkness flickering
with two layers of light:
lighting bugs and lightning that illuminates great swaths of cloud to the north
how i cannot help but keep walking down the gravel road
to take in/to honor/to be with
all the light coming in
_______
from the water world:

Boys play under an overflowing dam along Powai Lake after heavy rains in Mumbai, India. – voice of america, day in photos

Leave a comment

Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, writing

all orange

the second tomatoe harvest
cradled in my palm:
all orange
_______
a bit warm for a run i say
as i run past the white-cut-off-tee’d and blue-jeaned farmer man
who’s walkign down the gravel road between trucks,
a road that, in my four years of running here, i’ve never encountered another human pedestrian
_______

the smallest of pink petals on the tiniiest zinnia (thumbelina variety)
blooming by my front porch
how it feels like the flower is saying hi
so i say hi back
_______

a serious-looking wasp-ish creature
the likes of which i’ve not seen before:
bright yellow antennae,
black tail about five inches long
and from where i sit on the saw horses
with moonstar in my lap
i see one mounted on another and then a third joins in
_______
the oncoming slow burn
which has me recognizing the blister beetle blister by feel
before i confirm it by sight
received most likely by being on my knees in the tomato beds
_______
just as i head out for a back-way walk
through the neighbor’s treeline i catch a view
of the radiant orange-pink
of the great sun-star
skinking into horizon
from the water world:

Participants cheer on a portable shrine carried by others as they parade through the sea during a purification rite at the annual Hamaori Festival at Southern beach in Chigasaki, west of Tokyo. – voice of america, day in photos

Izabayo, 13 years old, leaves the boat where he spent the night with 10 other fishermen after another fishing night at Lake Kivu. – voice of america, day in photos

Leave a comment

Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, writing