1/31/2022

A Single Force


The eternal moment

before the world

doesn't end.


[LSS, 1/31/22] 

1/30/2022

Dark Comedy

I know you were only joking

when you said 

you dreamed about her—


that woman from that dream in that movie 

we saw last night—

as I reached for you this morning,


but her she stands now

between us, and my arms

are not long enough.


[LSS, 1/30/22]


1/20/2022

Artist’s Statement

Words on the floor

under the barber chair.


[LSS, 1/20/22]


1/16/2022

Non-Tech Savvy, Mortality Sends Telegrams

there are reading assignments
I gleefully ignore
there is self-inflicted homework
I complete by methodical degrees
there is Sunday, traditional day of rest
I observe without guilt

there is the memory of a cat
exhibiting grace as it stretches
like kudzu, minute hands
intermittent rain, the rise of balloons
at makeshift memorials

[RK, 1/16/22]
 
 

Makeshift Solutions in a DIY World

you break the afternoon into bite-sized pieces
with heart-felt karate chops
from the bridge I stare down into water
bereft of fish, crabs, sharks, and dolphins

I’ve taught myself to contain confusion
because it blends with sadness and grief
forms an emotional concoction of
running away and enforced resolve

[RK, 1/16/22]

1/14/2022

Advice to a Pencil Chewer

There are no 

more reading assignments.

There is no 

homework.

There is only 

the cat sleeping 

on your desk 

dreaming the answer

to an unknown

question.


[LSS, 1/14/22]

1/08/2022

Mid-Winter Sun

Next spring’s garden seeds 

in the palm of my hand 

thrumming 

with the anticipation of being 

and all that dust 

collecting

on the windows and mirrors.


[LSS, 1/8/22]


Windows, Not Mirrors
 
the late afternoon mid-winter sun’s
angle of repose
the pleasure of being specifically needed
rather than just being merely available
even the sub-tropical climate zone
marks winter by its absence
that which remains unspoken
is made known by its silence
things not held closely
vanish by slow attrition

[RK, 1/8/22]


Bonfire

it smolders
while you search for the egg timer
once firmly attached to your ovaries

it warms without warning
when the grandfather clock falls and
crushes your yard-sale locket

it bursts into an actual inferno
as you wave hello and goodbye
to your très chic friends and enemies

[RK, 1/8/22]

1/04/2022

Satan Says


A short, sharp shove

is all it takes 

and there you are 

at the bottom of the well,

but even there

there is never enough

water to quench 

your eternal thirst.


[LSS 1/4/22]


Books I Only Refer to When I'm Stunned into Complicity (Mean, Median, Mode)

social field guides pile up and 
overwhelm what is needed
file off the rough edges of reality
circumvent habitats where etiquette and charm
perform outmoded cha-cha dances
and pas-de-deux routines
temper our ongoing lack of humility
and tout unsustainable averages 

[RK, 1/4/22]


In This Pocket of the Universe

comfort food to offset the booster shot
considering the forever lack of sleep
a Star Wars themed crossword puzzle
folded yoga blanket on a hard-backed chair

the refrigerator hums sea chanties
in the winter I turn on all the lights
and examine exposed corners
do the water, tea, and coffee rituals

walking through a four AM house
mortality hovers, touches me, gives me a slight push
says: I could knock you down with my little finger
and there’s nothing you can do about it

[RK, 1/4/22]

1/03/2022

New Saint

She started 

the bonfire 

in her pocket, 

made a candle 

of herself, 

to prove

her intentions 

real.


[LSS, 1/3/22]

A Fine Specimen

That woman over there, 

wearing a lead corset to keep herself 

from evaporating into the night, 

her vertebrae singing to the sleeping sparrows, 

snow falling from her tongue

while she listens to the incessant hum 

of the universe.


[LSS, 1/3/22]


Prairie Dawn


She once modeled for the artist

who created all those billboards

on the sides of abandoned barns 

in western Kansas, all those farmers’ 

wives with mechanical arms forever 

raising and lowering a steaming

cup of coffee they will never drink.


[LSS, 1/3/22]

1/02/2022

Found Poem

I need You Facebook friends but more so nearby friends I’m in the hospital for the eighth time I wish you would visit me I’m scared I am over 70 and I don’t think I’m going to make it please come and help me, see me hold my hand.

[XX, 1/2/2022]

The Dark Garden

you’ve been awake now
for twenty, twenty-five, thirty
let’s double that
sixty plus years
pollinating nightshade and
chasing spectacular moths
by moonlight
filling diaries and journals with
pinned down and delicately labeled
insects

you’ve been awake long enough
to watch your elegant notes take wing
and fly away without you

[RK, 1/2/2022]
I Wish I Had

number and dated all those letters
kept track of thousands of books
remembered every phone number and address
saved transient social media moments
learned from, boxed up, and taped shut errors
and moved on

[RK, 1/2/2022]


Yet Another New Moon Intentions Burn

reading penciled notes on slips of paper
aloud
ten or twelve times
touching the naval, heart, throat, third eye, and crown
maṇipūra, anahata, vishuddha, ajna, sahasrara 
creased, held above a candle
dropped into a metal pan

smoke mingles with distant shredded clouds
repetition, repetition
commitment, resolve, best laid plans
ashes dumped on the compost pile

a saucepan on the stovetop
gray intentions against changeable confrontations
the incense burns away
leaves behind
social media temptations
and a bowl of rice

[RK, 1/2/2022]

Not Rhetorical At what point  does what you  are looking for  become what you  are looking at. [LSS, 3/23/24]