Friends -
In March of 2009 I packed up my car and moved to DC. No home, no friends, no job. It's been an incredible two-plus years, and now it's time for me to have another adventure. Follow it here. Thanks for reading.
Recent Posts
Bad Poetry
Legs buried under fragrant alternating stacks of you and me Sunday morning Why do I keep writing poems about laundry? Bad Poetry
There is something growing inside me and I don’t know what it is yet.
It feels like gummy creosote and spiny cactus leaves, thick green crunchy aloe ooze
It feels like making a right because that canyon road looks interesting (even though my map says to go straight)
It feels like stubborn succulents persisting in cracked and crumbling earth
I don’t dare to hope that it’s a sunrise.
It feels like gummy creosote and spiny cactus leaves, thick green crunchy aloe ooze
It feels like making a right because that canyon road looks interesting (even though my map says to go straight)
It feels like stubborn succulents persisting in cracked and crumbling earth
I don’t dare to hope that it’s a sunrise.
Got the pic here.
Bad Poetry
YesterdayI crouched under the sun
Sat back low in the long grass
Got slowly covered in layer after layer of dirt
sifting gently over my skin
like curtains in a lazy breeze
Today I sit in my ergonomic foam chair
Being bathed in fluorescent light
Straining for a glimpse of blue sky through the office across the hall
Yesterday
I weeded a bed of oregano and thyme
“How will I know if I’m pulling the right thing?” I asked
then spent the next hour
rolling leaves between the pads of my fingers
and smelling my fingertips
marveling at my toolbox body
good for so many things
Today I collate report after report
And the only thing the pages smell like under my fingers
Is toner
Yesterday
The biggest hornet I’ve ever seen
flew in drunk circles
like a helicopter going down
Furry spiders
ran for the folds in the fabric
of the ground tarp I was rolling up
A praying mantis
acted like a twig
until the cricket got close enough
And all of us city kids ooh-ed and ahh-ed
Because we knew that Today
All that would be left
is the ache in the deep-backs of my legs
And the grit
way up under my fingernails
that I didn’t scrub hard enough to get out
maybe on purpose.
Got the pic here.
