Sunday, April 17, 2016


20 years ago we  
all had their t-shirts,
insider knowledge
of their cover-art

origin and meaning,
and mushroom cuts.
Now in an empty shop
I’m bored, reading

classic books professors
raved about and then retired
to Gulf Islands—hippies and
gardens, a lyric surprises me:

Slim. Relax. Fine wine at the QFC
on a snowy Saturday night
Now, I’m a stranger mumbling
half-forgotten lyrics, estimating

the distance to the nearest
Quality Food Center.
Maybe100 miles?
Probably more.

Thursday, April 14, 2016

So I Wrote a Poem

I don’t have the patience
or vocabulary to describe
the walk well. Light yellow,
soft green, so many greens.

I guess the light was
dappled on the mosses.
It was spring all afternoon,
smelled good and warm.

In the nice outside-ness
I forgot to be lonely
or sad. I felt like me.
I don’t know the science,

there have probably been
studies, poems for sure—
I don’t have the patience
to read them, or research,

but the colors and light,
swollen feet and hummus,
made me feel better, good.
So I wrote a poem.