14 october

at the border, the guard asked him why

hinges, he answered

don’t you have them on your side?

the irony apparent

only in retelling,

perhaps,

swung the border gate open

(not too wide –

we don’t have

the hardware)

drive on through, sir

have a good one

yup, it’s about a mile to the left, sir,

you can’t miss it

13 october

you are borrowing a face – a name – didn’t stand close enough to his razor this morning – of course they met at dancing school – that was when they tied the goat behind the hospital for the newborn – that was when they raised chickens in the basement for school and then donated them to the zoo – that was when they sold the house in California and drove cross-country with a bag full of money and lemon tree in the trunk – that was when they gave Dad a roll of quarters when we checked in at the hotel in Reno but kids weren’t allowed on the casino floor and the quarters didn’t come back upstairs with him – that was when all the rest of the family took the train across the country and the soldiers were asking the girls how old they were (that’s for me to know and you to find out) – that was sneaking into a movie theater with the wrong age – a town full of the past with signs foretelling the future: watch for these names – catching up and keeping up and cups of tea that matter – pictures and slides and there we are – who will? she and me and we

12 october

Mostly – I’ve noticed – for me, at least – the walking away seems to be slower – I am reluctant to miss something, to give up. I have pockets full of hopeful change, ready to spend, running my fingers through – golden to the touch, steady at the ready. The turning toward is swift, instant. I answer the call with my heart on my face and in my tongue – step onto the bus toward yesplease and now – let us pray for the hunters and balanced memory.

11 october

no other artillery to fire as the smores laid down the ropes course the cart before the horse coriander and asparagus a spare gust of the carbon copy and adopt our own regards – it’s hard enough to hanrdle the banded way we weave our wavering voices – the choices we make, the cakes we take (I am a frog, a tree, a rhinocerous) – these ar our own designs and closer to fine as the crow flies indigo, the counts try merry-go like the walrus snows at midnight, a wrapper’s delight all crinkly and tingly with the sound of margins charging their last credit bets – we ride our own regrets like tricky ponies moaning in the tired sunbroke clause as the worried sentence writes itself out - - - a thoughtful ending on pause

10 october

Unless I started

it would be a quiet conversation

but it’s too late

                                by now

and so

                and so  

                                and so

(as it is)

                (and so on)

I think I’ll turn in

(as it turns in

                to another one of these those

                that could have been else

                if ever more than one

                had thought to two)

9 october

If I had socks…

(dreams of

ordinary miracles,

kept in drawers

on the other side

of the room)

(where metaphors are too

unexpected to be acknowledged

and symbols are too truly

overwhelming to be placed

upon your very feet as they

touch your very sole)

Is it always so easy--?

Make a list, then come it true.

Number your hours, then call your own.

(make it, bake it—light bulb on,

DING--!)