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Monday, June 8th, 2009
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4:54 pm - if it was me
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the route would be mapped, laundry done days ago, folded in neat stacks next to lists of what's still to do but it isn't me and I never
went. (At least not yet, but I'm considering....) So I watched in wonder as Jamey took the job in Scotland and I watch in wonder again now as
Seneca packs for the drive to California.
(ok, ok, wonder...and fear)
but yes, go.
you know?
go
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(1 comment | comment on this)
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| Sunday, June 7th, 2009
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9:01 am - next to Lady Macbeth
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I carry my comp to the back row
and take my place where I'm directed,
next to the woman I watched play
Lady Macbeth thirty years ago.
remembering
the stunned and studied silence
of me at seventeen, wanting to be her
and grateful not to have that challenge.
after a minute she turns in her seat,
all graciousness,
to say she knows my name,
has heard good things about
my work and
we turn back together to watch
the students we have taught.
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(comment on this)
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8:52 am - avoiding baby poems
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but what
if it really was a baby?
the actual almost ten pounds
of him handed off to me
and the memory in my hands
of that chrysalis squirming?
there's no metaphor
enough for that
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(comment on this)
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| Thursday, June 4th, 2009
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9:41 am
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this is that
time when
you've let
yourself
say something
important
and the other
person just
keeps on
talking
about
herself
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(2 comments | comment on this)
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| Saturday, May 30th, 2009
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11:22 am
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in six days she's getting in a car and going
to California (if she goes) but
today we are driving together on familiar roads
to a place I have wanted to go
but never been, a place only miles
from where I was a kid, where the water
rushes across rocks,and I thought I saw too much
of rushing water then, just wanted to get
in someone's
car and drive
to California instead.
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(1 comment | comment on this)
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| Sunday, May 24th, 2009
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9:25 am
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over the mediocre food
at this dim and noisy table
he asks me what I really think
of a mutual friend and I start to
tell the truth right before he says
how much he thinks
they are alike.
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(1 comment | comment on this)
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9:00 am
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I used to pick up the pen so easily
write the next in a long line
of lists (aluminum foil, pepper),
pay the cable bill, empty out
the refrigerator of last week's remains.
almost fifty, I dream of building in Malaysia,
sitting in a cramped office in DC
making phone calls. Or Appalachia.
All of Appalachia,
which surely has not improved over time.
What to give back with what I have left to give?
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(comment on this)
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| Thursday, May 14th, 2009
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8:17 am - tongue tied
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Sitiing at a lunch meeting yesterday, with no real opinions about anything being discussed, i suddenly realized that I was eating chicken salad in a tomato in some suburban bistro with two other women who were more dedicated to shooting down ideas than creating any of their own. The night before, I interviewed candidates for a Youth Coordinator position, along with two high school juniors who are so "white bread" and squeaky clean that they are completely outside of my experience.
I have now done this job for two years and 4 months. It is completely meaningless. I guess lots of people can handle spending most of their day doing something they don't believe in. But this is way beyond my limit.
Can I go now?
current mood: apathetic
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(1 comment | comment on this)
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| Friday, April 24th, 2009
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7:00 am - years after cancer
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all I do now is pick up meds
you've called into the pharmacy
taking care of costs and carrying,
pretending I'm not watching as you line them up
in all those small compartments for the week.
yesterday you took the yellowing sheet
of doctor's numbers down
from the fridge and picked up the phone
yourself
and I wanted to say what's wrong,
what hurts and let's go now.
But I watched your thin fingers push
the buttons and told myself you'll tell me
when you're ready
for me to know.
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(comment on this)
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| Tuesday, April 21st, 2009
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6:36 am - piercer
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we wait together
flipping through Maxim, looking
at the muscled bodies of young women,
open weave bikinis sprinkled with sand.
outside the storefront, gray rain falls.
back to the piercing room
and I follow, legally bound to attend, but not
to watch. The piercer and I slide
on glasses to see the mark where the needle
will push through and I am listening to his
no nonsense patter and wondering
if he remembers a day thirty years ago when
he drove me over back roads, in the bright sun,
suddenly pulling to the shoulder
to buy an ice cream from the passing truck.
He jokes with us about mothers, daughters,
about younger wild days,
which I laughingly deny
until he turns,
just for a moment, looking over the edge
of his glasses and looks at me, asking
"Really? You didn't?"
I am remembering the muscles of his arms.
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(3 comments | comment on this)
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| Saturday, April 18th, 2009
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9:41 am
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All I want to say is something about
this warm wind at my back and the
long slow push toward the future.
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(comment on this)
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| Thursday, April 16th, 2009
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9:03 am
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it looks clean from a distance, the river.
heat of the sun a little stronger
each day and she walks that way,
past the sketchy men hanging out
car windows making any kind of noise
to get her to turn her head,
toward more by the water
setting down their poles and sidling up
to the other side of the fence,
to get a closer look, maybe start something.
She comes home, telling the stories.
the "hey mami" and
her immediate clear
"no".
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(comment on this)
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| Monday, April 13th, 2009
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7:02 am - up at 5
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every morning, even before the crows
begin their signaling in the parking lot
outside the darkened window. It's age,
maybe, that sense of lost time with
each year that passes. But now I rise
pulling on sweaters against the damp
while the rest of the world hits the button
that gives them ten more minutes
of oblivion.
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(comment on this)
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6:12 am - regret
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Yes, I'd rather it didn't lay its head
on the pillow next to mine
each night, hair badly needing a wash,
still wearing the same old
grease-stained coveralls. At least take the dirty
work boots off first instead of snuggling
them into my clean quilt. But, after all, I made
this mess of a thing, hot breath directly
in my face, unblinking and lonely as hell,
waiting for some word from me
as I try to sleep.
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(comment on this)
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| Sunday, April 12th, 2009
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6:58 am - ramping up
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every year it's like this and I try to remember
the lighting guy will be all reassurances
then back out with that empty grin, telling me
he's sure I'll manage, the line from the mic
to the amp will have the wrong connector
and the last simple skirt will be too short
just as the bobbin thread runs out.
and every year I'll go back, starting with lists
and conversations, firing out questions
in the five minutes I'm given between your
plans for another show because this one
is the one they are counting on me to do.
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(comment on this)
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| Friday, April 10th, 2009
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3:57 pm - because it's spring
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I light a few candles, rearrange the furniture
throw the windows wide
replace the mildewed shower curtain
and try again to find the right bulbs for
the fussy living room light
because it's spring I try to remember
that the president is asking for the end of
nuclear weapons and not to think too much
about the girls in the next city over,
kissing their families goodnight, then
hanging themselves
from doorjambs
one by one.
but because it's spring
I think of them, again and again,
pushing back against the door
when the mother goes to see why
her girl is late for school,
saying look at the buds on the trees
then putting her shoulder
against whatever unknown weight
is holding her outside.
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(comment on this)
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| Tuesday, March 24th, 2009
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8:16 am - Silence
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all those years of
wandering the woods alone
late coming home for dinner
to no comment.
Later, borrowing
the car to get drunk in local dives
sliding back into the driveway
as the sun rose and still
nothing ever said and now
I work alone, just
wandering through different thickets
climbing the path
where a misstep would send me
over the edge with only the sideways
growing trees to catch and
coming home
as soon as I say anything
in response
no matter how bland
the answer is "never mind
I'm sorry I told you
forget it"
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(comment on this)
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| Friday, March 20th, 2009
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7:01 am - Vernal Equinox
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Up early, waiting to know
the Sun has passed over Earth's equator,
the relief of food returning to the table,
the shift from white to green.
I would like to say I rose to celebrate
this day of equal moons,
but it was the massive
clanging and crushing
of the dumpster truck,
all that waste moving
from one bin to another,
that pushed me out of bed.
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(comment on this)
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| Tuesday, March 17th, 2009
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2:41 pm - I Say Yes
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today I say yes
go live there for
a while
and pretend
to be adult
and yes I will
pay your bills
in the meantime
yes I will
have food
here when you
are hungry
(and you
will be
hungry,
but I don't
say that
because I
remember
doing it
myself
and the
shame
of coming
home
again)
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(4 comments | comment on this)
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2:34 pm - AIG bailout
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IOWA CITY, Iowa (March 17) - Iowa Sen. Charles Grassley suggested on Monday that AIG executives should take a Japanese approach toward accepting responsibility for the collapse of the insurance giant by resigning or killing themselves.
"I suggest, you know, obviously, maybe they ought to be removed," Grassley said. "But I would suggest the first thing that would make me feel a little bit better toward them if they'd follow the Japanese example and come before the American people and take that deep bow and say, I'm sorry, and then either do one of two things: resign or go commit suicide. "And in the case of the Japanese, they usually commit suicide before they make any apology."
I love that a senator had the guts to say this. Plus it made the suggestions I received in MY meetings today seem tame.
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(1 comment | comment on this)
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