Older Poems I Recently Dug Up

I will not make of your body a temple to be
tiptoed over and worshipped only because it is
a temple and has heard a great many prayers
and held many Gods and Saints in its arms.

You will be a feild to be run over wildly. I will
roll in your golden grass and let my heart seep
out of my skin and into your soil and down into
the earth.

I will not whisper. I will laugh madly, throw back
my head and let my hair tangle up in the
thought of you.

When you are a river, I will not wait for the
ferry crossing. I will wade into the cool
freshness of you up to my knees and throw my
body down into you. I'll plunge with my eyes
open.

I will shake you and make all the leaves of your
mind dance.

I will not put you away on a shelf thinking that
by not opening your strong binding, I am
honoring you. No, I will devour all of your
pages. I will turn corners down and mark you up
with pen and pencil. I will spill wine and tears
into you.

When you are the last tree standing, I will not
cut you down to build a house. I will not carve
you into a boat so that I can escape from that
part of the world. I will crawl up inside of you
and let you protect me just the way you are.
And I will make sure that you get enough water.

I will let you wrinkle my soul if only you'd let me
do the same.

YOU ARE A FISH

You are a fish
Beautiful and colorful.
You are that wild, scaly thing
That I admire
And don't relate to at all.

It'd probably be easier with you
If I put you in a tank
And told myself
That you are fish
And can't be held.
It'd be easier if I just watched
You swim back and forth
Around your miniature stone castle.

Because then I wouldn't find myself disappointed with you
For things that you cannot do.

It's just that your colors catch my eye
And those wild whiskers.

Your scales are purple
And I think that probably your blood is purple too.

If my words could reach you
Through air bubbles
I'd tell you
That you need to learn to love
The fish that you are.


Thanksgiving Leftovers

You are last weeks Thanksgiving dinner
that hangs out in the fridge in miscellaneous Tupperware.
Honestly, I am rather sick of you
but I don't want you to go to waste
so I eat you anyway.
Also, I know that in a month from now I'll reallly be craving that last piece of pumpkin pie
that I let fall to the trash bin.
I'll want a cold sandwich made with left-over turkey and layered with pickles.
And so I lift you to my lips again
Open my mouth and devour you
quickly
so I don't have to taste you too much.

I Forgot

I forgot
what my voice sounded like.
I forgot
how even I
can weave words around
a heart.

I imagined that you were built of trees.
you were a canopy of shade
you put fruit into my mouth
and flowers into my eyes
you were green & brown
and burst with fire in the fall.
you grew tall
and strong
and had a tangle of roots beneath
the surface of the earth.
you were full of truth
and lots of little bugs
and you held the world together.

I imagined that you were a Pacific wave.
you were fluid
and full of sea secrets.
you were blue, of course
but also you were white and green
and you could rock even a giant to sleep.

I wanted you to be the north star.

I wanted for you to be home;
to rock my wild heart content.

So, I imagined that you were that strong house
left on an open prairie.
that you had a wood stove burning inside
and music playing.
I imagined the bed covered in quilts
and the kitchen cupboards full.
every floor board was full of laughter;
every nail meant that you loved me.

I wanted you
to be for me.

all i know is that i want to be happy
always.

tucked & cradled behind my little ribs
my heart is swollen.

there is so much that I miss
with all the bones
and all the flesh
of my body.

I just want to go home again.

I want to tell you
about how I got here.

you see, it happened like this:

I was a girl
I was a girl full of laughter
and the world was big
and I was lost
and confused
and I started to be sad because I couldn't see
beyond my little corner of love
(which some would say is a blessing)
but the world was big
and so were my eyes.

and my sister called
come sister, she said
and so I did
and my heart, oh my heart, felt everything that it could feel

and then there was a boy
for there is always a boy
and I fell. hard.
and my heart, beat faster & slower all at the same time
I think that I could actually feel it smile

and then my sister packed up millions of little boxes
and covered them in labels
"bathroom"
"kitchen"
"breakables"
and drove away
and I was left with the boy
who I loved. very much

but I missed her
and I missed everything even more then
because with her
I had a bit of home
and now my heart felt half empty

now my heart feels half empty

there is so much that I miss

and I want to go home again

but there is a boy
and I love him.

skid row

they don't stake their tents down
because, you know, its awfully hard
to stake a tent to dirty city sidewalks

some lay down under open night sky
in a pile of sleeping bags and
thin blankets that probably smell
like piss

and we drive by
holding each-others hands
and our full bellies
we are laughing
and talking and listening to music
and he is drinking a milkshake bigger
than my face
and he leans over and kisses me
with his vanilla lips

and I don't understand why
they are here
and not in bed

why didn't anyone say I love you
and mean it
and hold them to the ground
or lift them to the sky

why are they laying here

why can't they care
enough
to get the fuck up
to live

Ode to Yellow

Yellow

you are eggs
sunny-side up.
you giggle as I scoop you into
my open red mouth.

you are pollen, impregnating
flowers
that crawl across mountains
in wild bliss.

you, dear yellow, are the sun.

you are life.

you are the moon and the stars

you are this book that I am reading
that is telling me to write.
Write!
you are the highlighter
that I am marking it up
in--
line after line of
poignant thought.

yellow.
yell--oh.

when I close me eyes and imagine
what you must feel like
I can only think of the golden warmth
of spring
and I can only imagine that you taste
like bananas

and I am reminded of that banana tree
that use to grow behind
the apartment that I use to live in

and the walls there, that I painted
a golden hue

I am reminded, yellow, of the life that was held
within those walls

I am reminded of that life