We two

How come every time I kiss your neck
you smell like the wind?
how come every time I kiss your neck
you smell like the wind–
the outdoors as if you were born there and come home
each time you open the doors, kissed by sun and shower
every time you walk barefoot up the walk

Your hair hanging over my face
makes me think of corn silk
and I want to kiss your ear, every time
smelling the earth in your hair, and
the world I have not traveled much of yet
has left a map across your cheeks
and over your nose, which I know
will wrinkle as you read these words

Don’t be unkind–like lightning–when
I don’t translate it well; don’t ask too many questions, please
I already don’t feel your heart–
it stopped when you read the fourth line, when
you felt my lips on your neck and an earthquake rumbled under us
when I bit your flesh there, when I bit you
as sure as you are sulking

How come we speak two languages when we connect in space? Why
do I break orbit when I try to plug you into my psyche, tell me
why is it impossible to fully be one on this sphere–
us here, we there–the wind and rain in your skin and your hair, tell me
why can we not be one like weather and ocean
and the stars and the air

How come–

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morning coffee break

gray sky
toast and eggs
with a side of chickadees
sitting in the gutters
telling jokes

Monday Random

0autumn-beauty

  • I baked a chicken dish this week that was delicious.
  • Sadly I do not think I can repeat it, as I cooked as if I were painting or writing words, and wrote nothing down

balsamic chicken.jpg

  • Our local grocery had chicken quarters for 39 cents a pound, so I couldn’t resist, especially since that is my favourite part of the bird, especially the thighs
  • Hubby is a breast man
  • Basically it was salt, black pepper, chili powder, granulated garlic, onion powder, thyme, rosemary, basil, and turmeric. I basted it every half hour at 375F with bottled balsamic salad dressing.
  • It got all brown and sticky and moist, very rich. Great over rice.
  • NaNoWriMo is here once more
  • For the uninitiated, the idea is to write a 50k word novel in 30 days
  • From the past ventures, I have 1 rough draft and two unfinished novels
  • I can’t seem to finish
  • Is this laziness, or was I built more for sprints than long distance running?
  • Not giving up
  • Besides I need a break from sewing these little felt things I’ve been poking at for months now.
  • I really thought the craft show would go better, but it takes time to get how it all works and how to market oneself, even at a 6×3 foot table
  • Even after sending gifts I still have a good hundred at least of these little felt Christmas ornaments and key chains. The majority are keychains.
  • If you hit me up in e-mail or my contact page, and paypal me 25 bucks, I’ll send you a dozen assorted little bears and hearts and things, (US only) and for another five bucks, I’ll throw in an original poem signed by me
  • I really do have to recoup some of my material costs
  • Then I will start again
  • On the positive side, my sewing skills are getting better, and I have many new projects for the coming year
  • I am getting a bit of arthritis, and I never will forget my mother telling me the secret is to keep your fingers busy
  • If you get idle, they will get gnarled up and not work anymore for you
  • If they are kept industrious, they still might get gnarly in time, but they won’t stop working, and that’s what I want.
  • After all, I could live to be a hundred
  • So it is monday again, and at my house that means gray and rain and talk of snow at the end of the week
  • Illinois folks learn to be resilient so we are geared up with our mittens and our ice scrapers and drive on without a thought about snow before Thanksgiving.
  • Not a thought
  • (sob!)

Enjoy your Monday! It is the only one that will ever be just like today.

Here’s some kind of chill groove I have been listening to while writing this morning

she doesn’t know who she is
all the clouds look like rain
every man walks by
in a white t-shirt and faded jeans

no one asks her
who she is
no one wants to know
where she came from

all her weather she brings with her
all the storms she leaves behind

sun beating down
flowers bloom
near summer ache
blue sky bloodied
it is dark here
still
so I wait
(not so)
patiently
for the light
of your
smile words company

the heat came quick
just after the rain
forming clouds before my eyes
hovering there

my fingers play in them
like a child
making new shapes
every time his face appears