Category Archives: not poetry

evergreen

this is exactly what I love:

early mist, morning in the woods
nothing in particular to do but float in solitude,
thinking fondly of loved ones
and the sacred distance from and between them.

Kote chewing tall grass
curious peacocks and one-footed hens
startled doves, and no feathers on the ground
tiny pink and white spring petals where I expected them
mosses and lichens, green on the side of everything
collecting lilac and cedar bows,
a care-filled gesture
bundled and wrapped tight and loosely
in cottons, wools, and silk
hole in the boot as usual
and carrying Sofia’s scent of some fire
her smell of knowledge
tinctures and drinking and dancing
she knows all the plants of the Pacific Northwest
our home, our evergreen.


apologies for the orange paper

poor orange,
weird and misplaced

yellow, quieter
gentler, bright
innocent and polite

not like green
bold, fantastic, everything
all the patterns in life

red, my god
hell, sex and hunger
blissful heat, passion and fire

and blue
the big
deep
ocean
that’s it

hey brown
murky, muddy
dirt and wood

there’s grey
all slate and industry
exaulting, cities
lonely and beautiful

white, bright light
cotton, wind and lace

and black
perfect
black.

(ohwoops, purple. how we always seem to forget you)


little

cotton fold
pencil mark
brush stroke
hair curl
hip bend
page turn
coffee stain


silver

maybe we’re warm on wine
both washed in a monochrome, pain
out the window, milky bright-dark
touch is precious
like a pearl or a poppyseed
indulgent and simple,
skin between blood and blood
silvered and calm,
trees between night and night


let the night be dark

broken bone,
the body is pain
I met you, leaving the light on
heavy heart
veins hung on hands
as lonely tangled banners
letting out that heavy lovin’ shit
a broken heart build is slow

broken bones, I know your body is pain

let the night be dark
you won’t forget your light on

woodsmoke, fall air
I know you ain’t used to it
empty cabinets, fingers over
father’s strings
I know you ain’t used to it

let the night be dark,
you won’t forget to leave your light on


where the ‘h’ is

thank you for the eggs I made for breakfast
thank you for the strong coffee

thank you for the only slightly windy beach
the barefootable sand, plentiful and randomly clapping barnacles
piles and piles of grooved blue muscles
we could eat forever

thank you for the dog dates,
naked board games, work visits and beer
thank you for taking me shooting up Black Diamond Road
and for letting me decide not to shoot

thank you for the warm bed,
the slugs and the frogs at night
thank you for braiding my hair, and talking shit

thank you for the empty house to write in
even though I didn’t write.


marvin gardens

the port, black and shimmering
what’s the difference between a pier and a dock?
something about our faces, familar
something about dimples
bikes, birds and blue ribbons
all that stuff we hate to love
IPAs half empty or half full
you made me forget how to dance
and tattoos
bodies as temples
a new tongue
and hands

marvin,
thank you for the memory

love, gardens