this ash hill

this ash hill
in my drive way
is rich, is black,
is beautiful,
&possibly volcanic

this ash hill
whispers
“beauty for ashes,”
like a stop wall for
rape in elevators

this ash hill
is a ministering,
a form-fitting tanya
tucker mini skirt
pressed right on

this ash hill
is a mother
too beautiful
with hands
because of love

this ash hill
maps a footing
which is impossible
you say to ascend,
until you’ve climbed it

this ash hill
peaks at the top
of your house
so you can toe tap
that corner piece of pie

this ash hill
is a chance
to decipher coming down
like any normal would do
without using elevators

::

for Real Toads

Night Swim (Moon Tan)

You were a mermaid diving at twilight
so pretty. You were so pretty.
Water, – ash pale. Lavender, talc sky.
Water and sky, – as always, amusing.
Over and over. You went up and down.
Hands with fingers, arms, head, torso,
back & legs, -and my nose didn’t fill up
with willow wisps, – those crazy things
flapping for attention over top of the
neighbor’s house. That dead fish,
– deaf, and mute.

“to dream” -for Real Toads

In Mother’s Attic

I close my eyes only for a moment, and the moment’s gone
All my dreams pass before my eyes, a curiosity ~

of fake flowers,
fairy christmas lights,
disassembled beds, lamps,
& commode chairs,
i need to pee.
a tiny mirror
falls out from the elastic band
of my underwear
&i see you,
teenaged daughter.
but you spook &evaporate
quicker than i can hang on to.

i hold: this tiny mirror.
still, this orphaned poem.

“Dust in the Wind” lyrical
inspiration at Real Toads

Dreams &Fortune Cookies

Last night I hid my pain
not so secretly in a dream
where we drove off
with only half our children.
I quizzed you. Did you forget
something? &you cooed,
I know, I know.

One of ours was sitting in
the grass. Cross-legged,
currently counting the
ladybug population.
Another was further down
the road, so I couldn’t say
for sure what was happening.

Then,

when morning cracked
my bleary eye beyond repair,
I bleated, but spoke it not,
another one’s leaving
us dear &you hummed
I know, I know.

And my subconscious
kept rehearsing scenes,
like the last time she &I
had lunch directly.
She’s struggling to crack
her fortune cookie &mine,
turns out, is empty.

day 20 NaPoWriMo
for Poetic Asides

Free and Clear

artworks-000040044276-53xtx2-cropi drowned
a blue damsel-
fly in the pool
and she is dead
by my hand and
a ten foot pole.
and only
and because
i left
a black bird came
to weather his feathers
free and clear
to splash
and play.

“Why do birds suddenly appear?”

Time Traveler

deja vu~
seized by the same moon
once again

I’ve been here before, to the other side of the moon, but I’ve wandered so long, traveled so far that I faintly recall this place–this  soft strand of fiber twisted aright in my brain. Hither and thither, so random the beauty. I see the moon, and the moon sees me as I travel upon this lighted rail for a million moons. Yet a million suns.

day dreamer
voyage to the sun~
wander love

Written for Carpe Diem #368  (1500 Km into our train ride with Aleph)

Sweet Dreams

PhotoFunia-3348922_o

No, daddy. You can’t put milk in my pinkie-pie castle moat. I’m allergic.

Allergic ba-zer-gic!  No such thing in dreamland.

tonight you will taste

the milky way’s sweetness

through a crazy straw

 Read more sleepy-head tales at http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/

Breaking Bunny

On YouTube
the Easter Bunny
is no poser
with fuzz trapped
in his belly button
like you.
Get real!
Go to sleep?
Pray, wish, sleep.
Sleep, wish, pray
to the God
of the morning,
to Santa,
to the bunny.
Bunny be real.
I want a real bunny
named Furry Fluff.
Enough sleep.
Wake up, wake up!
To what, for what?
Candy
            in
                 a
                     basket.
     Unreal!

(Love you forever, my littlest bunny- 
sorry your bunny dreams were broken)

Come On Kid, Spit!

There’s a blond-haired boy about 3-years old
Running through the basement in complete glee
With a green toothbrush sticking out between
His pursed lips now covered in white foam and drool.

I stop him, because that’s my job in this 3-roomed basement.
My job is to guide these kids who come in a running.
I stop him and try to talk him into going
To the bathroom to spit.

There’s a car on his shirt and the numbers: 2, 3 & 4.
I say it like that to him,
“I see numbers 2, 3 & 4 on your shirt.”
He says, “It’s two hundred, thirty-four!”

I don’t grab his hand, because that would be too obvious.
I put my palm behind his right elbow and gently nudge him along.
There’s the bathroom. We’re in the room with the bathroom.
The other room has a couch and the other one holds the toys.

We’re in the room with the bathroom and there’s a stodgy lady there.
The woman’s blocking our way to get in to spit, so I ask her if she’ll let us in.
She finds a small round silver lock, like the kind on a lock box and fiddles with it.
She tries to unlock it, but it doesn’t work.

No bother.  I see another door to the right.
I know there’s more than one way into the bathroom
And I don’t need a lady or a key to get in.
“Come on kid, let’s spit.”