poetry

Ode to Betsy’s Linen (Valspar #7005-16)

Posted on 9 March 2022

Ode to Betsy’s Linen (Valspar #7005-16)

at Bates
I gained an appreciation for
off-white:
all the cream correspondence they sent
before I even arrived,
every dorm wall and pipe
painted this warmer
easier-to-be-in shade,
not blinding white but ivory

and now for years and years
we’ve dipped our brushes in
“Betsy’s Linen,”
her tentative cheeriness
papering over whatever other gestures there’ve been,
making the setting a little more calm
a little more circumspect
(not really changing the parameters of anything)
but smoothing order and a warm openness
onto difficult days

things are almost never black-and-white
but sometimes they’re neutral

poetry

truce (a love poem)

Posted on 8 March 2022

truce (a love poem)

because your unbeing is possible
today in the middle of our muddle about
showers
I collapse
fall like a drop
onto your bed
and surrender
this is so dumb for us to be arguing about
I throw in the towel
and, disarmed, you agree and
we cease
to struggle
both knowing how now will be then
and not wanting to look back wistful
disappointed in ourselves and our carelessness
not wanting to squander love’s warmth
on righteousness

poetry

disengaging the knot

Posted on 7 March 2022

disengaging the knot

I am removing myself from the acrimonious thread
twine me instead with peaceful warp and weft
shuttle me across kind words and upright neighbors
comb the nettles from the discourse
plait our disparate views
into one woven future

poetry

Hummels on the Doorstep

Posted on 6 March 2022

Hummels on the Doorstep

no judgment on the unclaimed Hummels,
one disaster after another decreasing the importance
of the ceramic girl with the geese
and the boy reading,
demoted to the role of luxuries
(which they already were –
post-WWII knicknacks
celebrating not only
a rapidly disappearing pastoral past
but, also, the fact that
you didn’t expect disaster
to rattle him, her, or
any other china figurines,
no fiery bombs that day –
a luxurious certainty
that’s chipped and cracked now)

poetry

tradeoffs

Posted on 5 March 2022

Still from a KDVR Fox31 report on the smoky taste to Superior's water from January 20, 2022.

tradeoffs

to drink from the reservoir
means to taste ash
from the two foot drifts
that ring its shore

to drink from the pipe
means to taste pure nothing
but to drink nothing
when there’s maintenance on the line

to scrub the reservoir water
means to taste pure nothing
but to suffer rashes from the chemicals
when you or your children bathe

to dredge the reservoir
means to mostly drain it
spreading the ashy water
to the other ponds in town

to drink from Louisville’s water
means to taste pure nothing
and keep healthy skin
but beg from a neighbor
whose patience may strain

to not drink
means to die

poetry

eating from a poisoned earth

Posted on 4 March 2022

https://assets.bouldercounty.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/03/2022-02-16-Assessing-garden-safety-final.pdf

eating from a poisoned earth

what’s on the ground
will be in the air
what’s in the air
will be in the water
what’s in the water
will be in the earth
what’s in the earth
will be in the chard
what’s in the chard
will be in us

but it’s such an imperfect world anyway
plastics already inside us like albatrosses
endocrine disruptors and lead from the windowsills
plutonium from Rocky Flats or Fukushima or Chernobyl
or whatever else is going to happen in Ukraine:
we’re porous and poisoned already

but to not sow
to not reap
to not eat from our own patch of earth
might damage our hearts more
than the dust of someone’s incinerated fridge
(I believe,
but don’t know)

poetry

saying goodbye to a little spark

Posted on 3 March 2022

saying goodbye to a little spark

he’s all in red
toddling quickly and confidently
telling us all of his favorite things
and we all have smiles
and pained expressions
because none of us care enough
to stop what will happen next