Tuesday, April 19, 2011

continuing conversation

Yes, it's still raining
or raining again.
It stopped long enough
for me to go to the girl's father's house
to scrub down her bathroom
and make up her bed,
a favor to him, to her, to myself.

The right-hand flowerbed is a marsh.

(thunder sounds)
(no, it is an engine)

The pink and blue hyacinths
I didn't plant
seem about to float down the hill
of my yard, to fall into the storm sewer,
to travel to Malta
or Istanbul.

I remember now
why I'm thinking about my father.
It's nearing that time of year
when we took his last cruise.

(I am wrong. It isn't an engine. It is thunder.)

I'm filled with a beautiful melancholy
that feeds into a poem-in-progress.

Miles Davis plays on my iTunes.
Tone will shift in a minute.
Shuffle, shuffle.

It's nearly time to retrieve my tired teen
from the high school.
We should go for that ordered scan,
but fuck all, I just don't have the energy
to fight a waiting room
to get confirmation that her back is healthy.

Maybe tomorrow.
Maybe not.

I change my mind again
sort of
about school/not school/where school/why school/purpose.

It's all about the poetry. That's what I need to remember.


  1. Holy cats. Reading this absolutely beautiful blog with tears in my eyes. In NYC till tmw, to then head back to take care of Mom until she's back on her feet.
    Robert Graves defined a genuine poem as "something that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up". He also said that poets are born, not "made". Both of those tropes are apropos here.-Yes, I said "apropos tropes." What? WHAT!
    Miss you all! Sending love and hugs to The Girl and Her Folks.

  2. I LOVE the image of the hyacinths floating down the hill to Istanbul.

  3. Hoping the rain has stopped for now and you have made some decisions about school. Perhaps that's why you're not around, lots of work to do. Missing your writing.

  4. Still missing you and wondering if you have been affected by the tornadoes. Hope you are ok.