Here it is Arrived In my hands From British luthier Crossed the sea To end one great adventure And begin another In my living room I am scared Not feeling worthy Like a kid With uneaten food Left on the plate At grandmaís house But thatís not why I had to name her After Ethel So much jazz Texas tornado Laughter and wild Sparkling eyes That is the scene I will spend A great deal of time Working to invoke
Memory loss makes me Angry at the universe Double helices of doom Belied by countless good times In so many places Indoor outdoor Oh the outdoors Prayed at natureís Vast cathedrals Learned to be adventurous From wild grandma Our very own John Muir Of course Iíll (hopefully) Never forget the smile In those eyes Your epic witchís cackle I donít think you knew Whose son I was Near the end And Iím not sure heíll know Whose children mine are In a couple decades Canít worry about that...
Stuck in my office I forget how to breathe Thinking about you Lonely and afraid A mile away All that air in between Exhaled by the trees Projecting roots Into the space Left by the hunger Of the earthworms Magic poops From dark wizards In the dirt delight In concert with fungi And other creatures Of the night To weave fertility From threads of Irresistable decay The thoughts of which Sure try To steal my Oxygen today
Itís hard to reconcile some things you see in life My kids get so excited by balloons Though we have to watch out when they take them outside I have seen leaves of harmless-looking grass POP them I guess thatís while theyíre called blades And yet... When I was a student in college I walked by a stand of thistles Pointy as needles Who gently held a perfectly inflated balloon In their thorny fingers I think there is a lesson there On this day you got your bloodwork back
I have no tolerance for stressĒ You tell me in the morning As if it it were clothes You neatly folded And Iím the drawer You are putting them in Only the clothes are everywhere Just like the dishes And food no one is eating
ďI have no tolerance for stressĒ You text me on my lunch break I did some cleanup You said we were fighting You needed presence Now you need distance Checking out on me In these last desperate days Before I get my severance
The great shift happens around us Swirling like sage smoke Calling to be inside our home As well inside all we inhabit So goodbye big bag of semi-sweet Chocolate chips from Costco No more partying in that cabinet With the liquor On the floor above you Enjoy your future with Magda Who leaves tomorrow She has promised to bring Chocolate chip cookies Down in the future A blessing for all Of us to share
Richard sent us all an email On Saturday there were 15 people in the pool There can only be 10 Social distancing On Sunday there were 17 People you have to follow the rules No supervisor for the pool on weekends If you canít do this properly It will be closed on those days
Let me tell you I kind of dread the idea of going there No I agree being in the pool is awesome possum But the preparation and protection of the kids Is such a big production That can literally only happen on weekends So please let the pool be...
Derek Chauvin is guilty Of being whiteĒ Trolls the nutjob at Gab Safely out of sight A weak little exhale With spittle and spite From a bigtime investor In God-given right To crush a human With dark skinís windpipe Under your knee With impish delight Thin blue lines of blood For oxygen fight We will not go silent Into that good night!