Look Me Up

I want to be found.
The small tinny soundscape
of daily life
replacing the boomboxes
and bell-ringers
of my urban imaginary,
whispering “find me, find me,
defraud me if you must
but find me” keep my number
always just the same in case,
in case, someone always wondered
where I went.
To here, to here, I went where
I never left, where loudness
is a virtue mislabeled as a vice,
Where I might still
find a hammer, I might yet
ring a bell.

right now It’s all eye contact 
and endless questions 
it’s tangling and untangling
bringing up and letting down
on the daily 

it once was

endless days of waiting
always to be told what to do
an inner life 
unobserved
adrift in a sea of time 
spilling out in every direction 

or the time of 
bathing suits
running shorts 
drop down handle bars
bouncing curls
and drunkenly quoting a la recherche du temps perdu
all bluster and no bluff

there may yet be a time
with a large calendar 
hung on the wall
filled with doctors appointments 
and book clubs
slippers with supportive insoles
and some fullness of self
reaching
finally
the edges 
leisurely 

Pockets and all

there’s a lot to see here

enough to last a long time 
buckles on necks
a man with no legs smoking on the corner lean your head back to take it in 
psychic readings and limping Converse feet 
lock chain around his neck 
and lines and lines 
of people from 
far flying places hoping for paperwork 
to flutter into place
the longest shot
and no better options
around the bend

THE YEAR I BECAME A WOMAN (2)

the year i became a woman 
i needed everything just so

the year i became a woman 
all the people who were onto me 
came back 
i felt nothing, but told everyone to go 

going on into the year i became a woman 
i fooled myself, then felt the cumulation 
of the fooling

the year i became a woman
i was given an assignment
that pretended to be soft
to list all the transgressions
a pulse for moving on

i rearranged my bulletin board 
tacked a gold orb around myself
and looked to the cobalt glass dial 
of a dove and its peace 
askew 

the year i became a woman 
i felt the weight of useless breasts
in my hands, and the question
what is the night?

making out with yourself
waking, without yourself

life asked for its money back
the bricks of a good, sweet headache
dislodged

snake arms, i became a woman 

i went out to the back porch
to check on the sky

Slowly

ripening slowly,

the skin is softening.

the shape is morphing, 

from sharp to curved, all 

as planned

LOVE ISLAND

pictures of an island on fire
green blue goes black orange 
every place an island, every person
the moon a sky island  
this house a raised island over Rainer Valley, 
Mt. Rainier a mountain island
swim around my favorite earth self
through gravity of dark
envision the root of the island 
connected like a tooth 
to the gaping mouth
islands bombed out
islands submerged
vital islands where things are better
where labyrinths protect 
the safe island heart
enter the shallows
soft and sun yellow 
feel for that knot gnarl seed
without conquering
submit to wobble depth  
merge while moving 
the reeds, white dots, small foam
enter invisible mood zones
eyes blinking the lapping skin
seance dense and violent 
lashing deep chaos between 
taut pull of romantic capsules
perched on castle rock with the chatty widow
while we ate wet salad from a yogurt container
plush camouflage fleece, oils and herbs
the hot rock organ, the deep crack 
the daredevil crawl to see
the islands beyond the islands below 
each root blossoming a dimple 
urgent strokes wanting to glimpse
imminent blessing peninsula
knee to rock signal to re route
remember why you started
swimming around this fucking thing
guard the navel, cast a seal 
a halo, not cocoon, no curfew
feel the edge, head resisting
stubborn changing waves
like bodies crashing each other
in blind desire
your blood thrashing against my blood thrashing 
being crashed into, thrown, slammed, passed through 
loon dives, motor boat, shadow our mountain
still towns, people in shade? 
water up nose, nipples guiding
mist was and will return
pine needle bed
love island
tree upturned to swallow sun
the audacity to return
bring a thermos or a match 
eat a compromised cookie
leave crumbs
memory earth
completion urge 
wade out to where 
you waded in

Another Timeline, Reprise

Now at the end,
I went back --
Started reading '19
You said then 
You were trying harder
To try harder
And I wonder 
What that feels like now
After all of this
Overness.

I wrote about 
Other timelines
Geographies of loss
And I wonder
Where we'd be
If we stuck around
First loves
Like so many
Grandmothers
"He'll make a widow out of you"
And he did.

Well it takes two
To pull the wagon
What I do best
Is follow
Would I be 
In Seattle now
A doctor's wife
Planning for tsunami
Would I know you
Trying harder
To try harder
Over and over and over?

Helping Hand

Ticketless hit and hope

Sober and bad 

The lips smack

The bin is moved

The drainpipe is shinned

A bouncer scans 

The balcony is breached

Beyond the field of vision

The triumph 

Moving the bin

We all heard it scrape

three months on oak

I love my little room

Warm pink womb dark wood dried flowers

Wrap me in silks and satins, 

sex with myself or a man

In golden hour haze

A world my own in my window

Safety, she knows it well

Fun to wonder

How the seasons will texture her differently

Pull back my covers

Winter, thank you

For birthing this 

Cause if I love her now

Ill love her then 

passed down

Punish the traffic cone with a glare

Bake up glory from fish and invite friends

Marinate in yogurt and roast memories of death

Succulent support and take out containers

Clean a corpse or read to it from a wise book

Camp on the beach and walk around in socks

Wait for winter to gatekeep city sex

Knot up a throat for the beauty of a wedding

Stop. Yearning.

Tell the truth fast

The way puddles reflect the sky

Upside down twice divided by horizon

No pause between thighs

Mulch on half the garden

What am I growing in the space between 

My concrete and my clouds

An abyss very sensitive

I only want a special entry

One that is grown and farmed

Coveted harvested planned for

Yearned up out of soil and groomed 

no one knows me like you and you don't know me anymore

Pieces of my teeth chip off

Tiny sharp edges

Smile change over time

Wanted to feel pleasure on the plane

Went to the left side bathroom with the window

A clear view of snow on mountains from above

If no one touches me ever again

Then rejection won’t be about the body

And how I live in it operate it freeze or get free 

Minnesota Chicago women see me shining

They’re an unfamiliar pizza in the bar at midnight

Much taller and at least a bit more beautiful than me

I played a guitar last week first time

I want to show you

You are nowhere to be found

I can tell the future

Break up with me!

I can tell you want to

Do it now before the meat thaws

And before I finish my painting

I’m doing blues and purples 

End things with me before I take my contacts out 

Do it before I resolve my anxieties in therapy

Do it before I cook for my family

Tell me before I start this garden project

Before my hangover fades

Before I get cranky

Declare you don’t love me anymore 

Write it down but offer to talk about it 

Say it to the beat of the dryer hum

Sing it to the pattern of a prank

Holler it over the slush of my bike in the puddles

Sew it into the lining of my hat

Kiss it over my cheeks and tell me I’m sweet

But you need a different kind of intimacy 

A kind I can’t possibly offer

Aging

The age of Aquarius promises me 

Some kind of shift and some kind of 

20 year improvement

My grandpas won’t live through it

It’s a relief that immortality is inaccessible 

The afraid and scrambled men in my family

Would harm so many if they knew they’d never die

stories from school

My student Eve is 12

And when it’s her turn to pick the music

She picks imagine dragons 

Every time

When it’s someone else’s turn

And she recognizes the song

She says

Oh I know this melody

Today, Calvin Harris

We dance together

Without speaking

Silent eye contact

My student Shem is 13

July cancer sensitive 

He chirps like a baby animal 

For every greeting

When I come in the lunch room

He says hi Owllie

I wonder how you’re doing.

And waits for my answer

When the robotics coding mechanism

Wasn’t working 

He hit his forehead on the wall

And wailed 

My student Jason is 13

And carries a paper with him that says

I said something wrong

But it doesn’t mean I’m a bad person

He tells me about his jealousy

And asks me if I ever feel jealous

Oh yes, I certainly do

It’s one of my least favorite feelings

My student Manus is 8

He calls me Cherry 

Or Seedling

Hi Cherry! Good morning Seedling!

He tries to surprise me 

Sneak up yell BOO!

If he doesn’t scare me he groans

And says well tell me how to do it next time

Educator’s vow:

I will do my best everyday

My students will survive me

Machines

Machines love our nature

our science fictions, our tomes

our bloody projects, call them what you want, i call them nations, or beach homes

They love our mixtures:

sex and scrolling, beer and weed, sweat and tears, johnson & johnson.

They wish to consume large amounts of us, in fact

so fascinated with our skin

its bruises, cuts, scars, birth marks, hairs, moles, dirt

the tears of silicon have been milked

and now their disgusting, perfect replica

would really like to meet us

Poetry

Most poetry is sitting in plain sight—

a cigarette on the lips of a line cook, 

skateboarders rattling on the bricks as they glide past Seattle Central,

shepherds’ purse and kale growing in the sidewalk seams

In spite of this abundance 

my eyes turned milky,

cataracts shielding me from the beauty of the world:

a nursing mother bent over her baby hidden by a blanket,

sticky beer rings on an amber table,

driver of bus #358, ever treating drunks with dignity 

now even the most poetic image doesn’t stir me

I’m a dead man sleepwalking through the living

I want and take and have and want again

ears stopped against the cries of the hurting

But I ran through fields with burrs on my hem

Slept with my arms cradling mastiffs

Saw the glowing algae by moonlight

Swam naked

Was robbed, drunk, robbed again

Possessed of an urgent question 

and a delicate flower of pain 

all that was a long time ago, I remember,

when I used to memorize Eliot and Keats…

but don’t worry too much about any of this

 

I’ll just reach for my phone 

one more time

before I fall asleep