red sky at night brings…
allergies, fires, candles…
and love. my love. love!
red sky at morning
sailors give warning: heart bursts
for what’s lost at night
Daykeep
eyes burning, itching
allergies taking over
lost words from far back
yet, i’m so happy
house tucked into dream pocket
i could let this go
this and my students
who deserve America
(this dream we all have)
and i’ll fight for them
and she’ll praise him, she’ll praise him
(but he wouldn’t fight)
and we all know it–
how deep my love grows. hard ass?
abso-fuck-lutely
hard ass, heart of gold.
that you can’t forget. you can’t.
and why now, why now?
cause it’s easy now?
cause you have a house, a home?
cause we’re good enough?
cause we were good then,
as golden as these lost days.
i’ll keep my days. thanks.
Announcement
published now for all:
our dream come true in a home
we’ll all find space in
No Words Tonight
the baby turns nine
halfway through her childhood
my heart half broken
Wrung Out
my words get twisted
like drying-on-line laundry
that the sun can’t catch
Sunday Funday
joy in small moments
imaginary play land
in parks, museums
Knowledge
first one we looked at
offer in my back pocket
when you know, you know
just like way back when
looking into his blue eyes
when you know, you know
some dreams take too long
too many tries, money wasted
but now i know… i know
had me at hardwood
hard-earned years, so many jobs
i hardly know you, love
but soon you’ll be ours
no renovation, like new
somehow i just knew
Dream House
it lies in the air
waiting for us to snatch it
feathers from the sky
Under the Summer Sun
last days of summer
mini-golfing with grandma
home before the rain
Anywhere but Here
with windows wide: write.
because you’ve missed my poems, love.
since yesterday’s dawn
girls in sun’s shadow
as she announces her move.
life: cycle in, out.
you know you’ve missed me
my “seven-likes” followers
’cause i didn’t write
you count me daily
amongst the regular loves
that make us a life
and i was just born.
(it was like i was just born
the day i met him)
’cause seventeen years
can’t be measured in mountains
or wildflowers
or whining children.
but in the steps we oft take
on our way back home
and in sunsets. Sun!
lighting my way across love
across city, life.
cutting down this ‘hood
into what it’s meant to be:
scraped, demolished, lost.
circular i am
because that’s how tires spin:
neverending globe
that brings us back home
wherever that home may be.
anywhere but here.
Step Write Up 