things that open my heart

your morning beauty
your eyes in civil twilight
the small of your back
your sweet sweet kindnesses
the love in your eyes
seen through my eyes
your quiet magic
votre chapeau blanc
votre chemise bleue

your willingness
your hopeful
your aching rocking rhythm
that flicker
that grin
that curling in you do when we entwine
your mysterious
your bravado
your bossy hands
your sense of non-direction
your funny accent
your holy holy heartbeat

                                                        nov. 15/15 @ amy’s

things that make me crazy

first crazy

snow in april.
snow in may.
snow that gets in my eyes, on my eyelashes,
in my boots
and under my skin
snow that gets into my heart
and refuses to melt
toffee when it sticks to my teeth.
magpies yapping.
chickadees mourning.
crows cackling.
dog hair on the rug.
white dog hair on black pants.
people who talk on their cellphones while driving.
people who take up two seats on the bus
and grunt when asked to make room for someone standing
buses that are late
buses that are so early you miss them
(rare but it does happen)
forgetting how i made a certain paint colour.
forgetting the names of people whose names i swore i’d never forget.
forgetting keys in doors
forgetting to lock doors.
feeding the cat.
the cat.
the cat’s indifference.
when there’s no milk for the coffee.
racism. sexism. homophobia.
anti-feminist assholes.
modern jazz that feels metallic and disharmonic and headache-inducing
and i know the reason it makes me crazy is because i don’t understand it
and i hate that.
not understanding makes me crazy. not getting it.
not being connected.
being too connected.
the internet
the computer
the cable company
the system
the election
the spammers
the spam
the starbucks baristas who ask if i want room for cream in my coffee
and then don’t leave any room.
(yes i once made one cry)
the chaos in the tupperware cupboard.
anything loud.
anything digital.

things that make me crazy in a good way:

cats and dogs
that perfect shade of blue, trying to re-create it
poems by just about everybody
‘the artistic temperament’
potato chips
coffee rings
coffee culture
sunrise. sunny days.
don draper.
ipod photo apps.
breakfast burritos.
road trips.

(warmup write, sometime in 2013)

i dreamed this gorgeous thing


i dreamed this gorgeous thing
assumed it was you
but maybe it was just a sunflower
masquerading as a star

maybe it was another black bird
with metallic purple highlights
and a nest of shiny spoons

maybe it was someone from the other side,
an aunt or a gifted grandmother
pushing across waves of candyfloss love
with a hint of lily of the valley

maybe it was space creatures picking at my brain,
pretending to be a healing stone
and faking the gorgeous feeling
maybe it was the brandy nightcap,
colouring the gorgeous with a slow amber burn
and balloon lifting

maybe this gorgeous thing was my own heart,
singing its own gorgeous song
the one it sings when it thinks everyone has gone away

maybe this gorgeous dreaming thing
was a dream within a gorgeous dream
and edith piaf was floating above my pillow
crooning in my ear about regrets and her gorgeous lover
maybe piaf was trying to tell me
it’s time to paint the sparrows

maybe the gorgeous thing was all about the waking
maybe we are all gorgeous, gleaming souls
and need to be reminded of this
maybe the soft air
maybe the cats on the end of the bed
maybe the creaking roof, the kitchen sprites

maybe my gorgeous dream thing
was a big clue with regard
to the rest of my big gorgeous life
maybe it was the collective unconscious
feeling the need to inflict
a playful nudge nudge, wink wink
maybe it was god or someone of that ilk
sprinkling a smattering of divine glitter
onto my flannel sheets
so i would think all is right with the world
even as the dream’s frozen edges
revealed themselves to be grey and sombre blue

maybe that gorgeous dream
was not meant to be analysed to death.
maybe just accept its gorgeous fleeting presence
and move on.

maybe put away the butterfly net
maybe sleep will come again
and i will dream another gorgeous thing before i die.


march 24, 2012
prompt: i dreamed this gorgeous thing: franz wright


Below The Line:

Gorgeous is not something you can hold in your hand