April Readings

These word-loving wonderful places have kindly invited me to read from my new book in celebration of National Poetry Month.

I hope you can make it!

fed by the ash

have you noticed

when something burns down—

a city, a marriage, a math lesson, a minute—

some tiny green thing shoots up

fed by the ash

look for it

her home

an old woman can beg

her god for her man to live

and lose her house

to lie beside him in a new bed

in a small room

an entire earned life shed

down to the warm center

of home

her hand on his chest

walking the usual route

finally

without a phone

every sandy step softens

like a sigh

closer to her feet

pinon trees like arms

of friends

reach to her

cool green hands

taken into hers

that mossy boulder a seat

even the dog sits still

faces west

to take in the tangerine dusk

whimpers

when it is time to go

crappy birthday to you

I started with happy

but Dorell commandeered

the song to crappy

lying in bed, singing

into my phone

to my sister

to her laughter

after our exhausted mother

passed out

and hit her forehead

on the vanity in the small bathroom

off the kitchen—

goose egg

bruised eye socket

no fracture, the doc said—

which is a slightly

better gift than

Al’s heart attack

last time

for Kimmi

spring haiku

cherry tree, still bald

irises comb fingers through

winter’s long blond wig

three hands off haiku

snow falls on wet signs

penned in permanent marker

pumped high to car honks

block-head men shout trump

pickups roar, small prick proxies

spewing thick black smoke

litanies of loss

no chant or sign large enough

to scorn, mourn it all

a body after its own image

study my new legs and arms

onset of crepey spotted skin

my looming love of them

how I silence capitalism

my mother, 81, on love, life and death

we can have hope

that’s all we can have

and know the life we’ve lived

was a good one

I think we’ve all made the best

of what we’ve had together

I’m just grateful for what I’ve had

the most loving mother

and you children, my children

I wanted you to be where you are

that kind of life

that is you, isn’t it

when I think about Al

I’m five years older than he is

thinking I wish he had these five years

he’s such a good man

not like any man

the way he thinks and says things

the love I’ve had for him

is not like love I’ve had with anyone

I’m so grateful for him

I think he was sent to me

before the end of my life

that late call

I really think we were put together

by heavenly father

we have been so good for each other

I hate to say this

we don’t know

we live we die

we don’t know what the other side brings

if there’s anything at all

so there’s no use worrying about it now

it seems kinda impossible to me

that we end up together

but if it happens it will be a wonderful shock

if we could all just find out

about a week apart

that would be great

we could get together and have a big party

more than likely it’s not gonna be that way

but to hope for the best

we’ll be together again

I have Ravens

I have ravens who steal dull treasure,

line my nest with old concretions

I have ravens who stare you down,

make you drive around my carrion feast

I have ravens masked

as sad-eyed dogs, waiting for your palm

I have ravens full of rainbows,

nervous you will notice

I have ravens who sing love songs

to basil with tomatoes on back-up

I have ravens whose blood, snowmelt,

clears my stony mind