morning eggs
you never know
how the world may delight you next
today it’s the two
still-warm eggs
plucked from the coop
while still fired
with the heat
of being inside
nestled against a beating heart
now outside
for all to appreciate
their smooth mysterious perfection
(each utterly different)
biased confession
the Implicit Association Test
objectively states
Your responses suggested a strong automatic association for Asians with animals and whites with humans.
horror shame embarrassment disappointment blame
(the lousy line drawings
my nodding-off self)
there is no kind way
to write these wretched words
no phrase to adequately apologize
to my friends who are Asian
for the othering my mind
unconsciously mindlessly may do
the damage I unwittingly inflict daily
including inside this very line in my confession
no way to obtain absolution
no penance that will offset the harm
my unwanted bias wreaks
on all the beloved human animals
I breathe with today
absence limits
while on the Zoom
I see him through the window
pouting
elbows right angles
palms pushing the sky
after the laptop snaps shut
he bursts in
bellowing his high-pitched objections
until I wrap my arm around him
ruffle his hair
remind him how much he means
ask how I can help
and
what does he need?
then he relents
admits he needs nothing
I just was absent too long
that toddler abides
who insistently demanded
Mommy…
anytime I pressed the rectangle of phone
to my curlicue of ear
while he tried to drown out the sounds
of any other needs
to reserve some space
for whatever might bubble up
between his shoulder blades
oh he needs something alright
just like me
at the lake
people bake
in this scene out of Kansas
or Nebraska
ski counterclockwise
the sign reminds
so the boats corkscrew around
this finite refreshment
it’s Saturday
and one after another
the pickups back to ramp
deposit the underclad bodies
perched on beached boats
set them floating toward Sunday
loud music and beer buoying them along
while an uncertain dog
paces the deck
and a gaping fish head
rots on the shore
introvert curb-appeal
she wants to see out
but not let them see in
a one-way yard
like aviator glasses
or monitored mirrors
she wants community
and to be left to her own devices
to be missed
and to slip through the scene
unseen
she tells them
cut the shrub blocking the window
then thinks better of it
when the job’s half done
she wants to notice
unnoticed
track
without leaving her own prints
she’s like Janus or Gemini
of two opposing minds
hungry for connection
and sated on her own
yard plans
retreat
sanctuary
haven
room for play
reflection
entertaining
welcoming to people
wildlife
plants
types of space:
eating
playing
reading
soaking
things to accommodate:
children
chickens
birds
extended family
things to maximize:
shade
peace
privacy
beauty
desire to be outdoors
inspiration:
Giverny
Japanese gardens
Lauren Springer Ogden
Nepenthe
Kimmerjae
David Austin
Michal Graber
wish list:
ofuro
chicken coop/run
waterfall/fountain
stream
pond
dining shelter
outdoor shower
nooks
shade
as we grow older
we grow rooted
let us make a place
we desire to stay
egg gathering
put your hand
deep into the dark
feel around
for something smooth
draw back out
cradling a warm sphere
made of echoing rings
little wondrous worlds
rich nourishment
to fuel your waking
mud people
Then there were the first humans, whose job it was to offer prayer, tell stories, and remember the passage of time. Made of the clay of this earth, the mud people of the first creation did not endure; when it rained, their bodies grew soft and dissolved.
– “Creations” from Dwellings by Linda Hogan
mud people
we soft squish
puddle and
wear away
tears run rivulets
into furrows into
cracks into
crumbles
we have no hard
to hang onto
no set stone spine
instead we bend bow sway
pray palms high
heart pressed low to
earth’s chest listening
to pulse and wave
pliant supplicants
consumed by awe
all we need
is to make:
prayer / tale
sound salve
time taste
and for you to please take
what our muddy palms
hold out open
trembling
McKinley Park Sit Spot
beneath a net of emerald leaves
riding a raft of restless wind
back to earth
brow to sky
I’m home
mission 2020
I want to burn
some bittersweet love for being
into your heart and brain
until your passion
for this little life spark
won’t stay inside you either
and we all break down
these flimsy plastic facades
that keep warm bodies stiff
and nurture every last
needy other soul
(yes, even our own)
