love

Seventeen Syllables

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you reach across and tell me
seventeen syllables isn’t enough
she glances from the other side of the bar
and she knows
yet she doesn’t know

this is how it always is
words tossed in inebriation
through passion and desire
for all that is lost,
all that is yet to gain

i want to reach out
and pull you to that booth
(i will, give me a moment)
because you are all that i was
the inner child spilling out
the full-bodied woman bursting through
because you are all that i am
with this unpaid art
my semi-religious followers
and seventeen syllables short
of everything i can’t quite publish

One Day I’ll Be Back

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you hate my haikus
you want the real me in verse
uncensored for you

Road Trip Haiku #12

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my grandmother’s sauce
passed down to a new era
her son now the chef

image

Road Trip Haiku #11

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Maine beaches of youth
please a new generation
cousin love abounds

Road Trip Haiku #10

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we cross the state line
Connecticut, once her home
instant rain breaks me

Road Trip Haiku #9

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coin in gold fountain
M’s futile Central Park wish:
let us go to Spain

Brooklyn

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he says it is a woman
but i know it is New York
if he had its blood burned
into his childhood
he would understand
just as my girls
who argue with him
about the name of the song
and count exit signs
along the interstate
we will be there soon
we will be there soon

we will walk across that bridge
and enter a new dimension
of the city we all know
as we close our eyes
and dream a new version of life
just like my great-grandfather
(the one i never knew)
who pulled my frail and tiny
great-grandmother across the sea
and saw the glorious light
of the Empire State
he will see
they will see
(when we walk across that bridge)
just how beautiful
a new life can be

I and Love and You

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I and Love and You by The Avett Brothers

a year ago
a lifetime ago
i stood on this same step
i rang this same doorbell
i retrieved these same girls

i hardly knew you
i stood awkwardly
in your living room
trying to explain my taste in music

you cringed when i said folk
(perhaps you’d cry too
the first time you
heard their song on the radio)

we’ve made music since then
sometimes heavy metal
sometimes hip hop
just a taste of alternative

but you still haven’t heard my song

i stand on your doorstep now
you won’t answer so i walk in
(it is like home to me)

i pull them out of the room
three in a row, sleepy-eyed,
begging for breakfast
(they are starving)

you open your door
sleepy-eyed too
and there are no words
there are no lyrics
that can fall to the floor
in this awkward living room stance
as i shuffle our lives out the door

June (2012) Daughters

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Riona

we walk Venice Beach
we’re offered everything
from CD ash trays,
a strip-tease picture with a dog
in a pink bikini,
and endlessly legal marijuana
(doctor on premises!)

mostly oblivious,
you trot alongside
and point to the homeless man
sitting in the lawn, complete
with office chair and
sleeping bag

i explain. you respond:
he lives outside?
in ALL that grass?
well that’s bigger than our house!

and your five-year-old wisdom
has made this beach day better.

Mythili

the conversations
in the 2000-mile backseat drive
are circular and cute

none cuter than
sisters, learning about the Gold Rush
from historical mama, declare,
We want to dig for gold in these mountains!

with your usual no-nonsense logic,
you casually reply,
You’re going to need a drill.

Isabella

for you,
a trip to California
is no more than an excuse
for a brand new story
to share with all your friends
upon your happy return

that’s my girl

Safe Harbor

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without your calm love
i couldn’t weather this storm
you are my harbor