Monologue 11.6067

Where’ve you been? I ask myself so I can speak more charming than normal. I’ve bought some avocado honey. The seller swears it’s the darkest and richest that bees make. And the bees are on my tongue nowadays. 1 teaspoon, 2 teaspoons. I delight in everything from soprano boys to quiet thunder days. I’ll not waste it. The poppies, the lupine, -they’re all back. This is what I’ve seen. This is what I’ve loved. That, and the grazing cattle. I’ve had metaphor moments. Ya, I know what you mean, I say to myself and smile. My mouth transforming my cheeks into apples.

::

for Real Toads

nice place

you have here
a personal book
shelf celebration
painfully unanchored
if not disorienting

you have here
an original coffee maker
one rocking chair
8 women
3 children

you have here
clean bathrooms
scented candle
modern curtains
brunch items

you have here good
and well 
my foot
pointing south
back to normal

::

[MZ at Real Toads wants to know the
weirdest thing I’ve heard this week.
Cutest boy asking his mom “Can we go
back to normal?” He meant home.]

plum-tipped grass

the guy in the flatbed truck
who doesn’t talk in this poem
who doesn’t think as he looks
watches her rise out of nowhere
which is exactly in the middle
of the rippling green waves of
his secret pink brain, in the
middle of the plum-
tipped grass tickling her cheek

her hair, her legs,
impress him as Spring embodied
and he wants to know the secret
meadow where she often goes, he wants
to know if they once, in fact, have
lied there together – but he’s struck
stupid, uneasy. and she only half
-way means to leave that grass stain,
– to start that brush fire

::

for Real Toads

as green as my mother/brother

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sometimes both of my eyes are as green as my mother/brother
and sometimes my kitchen walls dock on the magic carpet ride
color wheel wedge, from whence mother/brother and i do spy
miraculous flying fish leaping lively from deep-dish slices
of time outside her sundowner’s window. they leap with such
intensity we all swear it’s one hundred percent real, our
happiness, our green, hand-on-the-bible, evening time oath
(yes) i suppose one can say all of this wish-wash is un-
intelligible sea speak – i’ve had to do it a lot lately,
lie down in springtime, be perfectly prone in a mountain stream
just to begin to get an inkling of the kind of green we mean,
the green as green as my mother/brother and i/

::

for PAD and Daily Post

diamonds

of sweat
ooze from every
single country
represented
on her face
she is raw,
she is unkempt
she is beyond
becoming complete
un-doing traditional
bounds of beauty
as it may,
Israeli,
Palestinian,
(Romeo) Juliet
but more than this
warpy reservoir
there’s the smell
of seaweed, the
color of speech
the accuracy of
diamonds, –
only now
you think you
have felt
cold in your
hot hands

::

for Real Toads

i’m dealing with myself

not that I already haven’t
but one thing I know is true
to forget what lies behind
and to look … no, no, no
to [ s – t – r – a – i – n ]
towards what lies before me

for you i count, for you i
number my days, for you i wait
for you to say, i must not forget
this one thing; a day is like
a thousand years, and a thousand
years is like a day, – so, say

::

for PAD

this is all for you

the sky
is yellow
the fields
are blue
a meek sparrow
overlooks the swine

is this what i’ve become?
you’re sleeping on un-
cased pillows
i’m living with
crazy unbattened buttocks
a heart no longer
beating on my sleeve
it’s closer to center

time, you’re doing it right
– you are a friend

::

for Real Toads

i’ve tasted afternoon

&what light can do, –
shedding dust,
revealing just how much of
a sequined party is going on,
when all i can do is pass
unauthorized green veins,
pink husks invisibly through it
–heartbreak hands never
quite catching the light;
stirring the catalogued years
of wheat fields waving.
gold is the color i taste.

::

for Twiglet & Real Toads

On International Women’s Day

three women used their phone app
to find Lois of Clovis
who was in over her head
with more than a child or five (or six?)
how had those golden thread heads dissolved
like Splenda packs in lukewarm water? just
where did they go, and where are they now?
now Lois was lost in her haystack house
with a sugar lump melting on her hip,
a vacuum cord ominously threatening to stop her
should she try to open the front door,
say “this is it.” “come in.”
Lois bit her lower lip,
and the three friends immediately came in.
one woman lit to the kitchen, started running
hot water, adding gleeful soap suds.
one woman’s hands began skillfully
folding tiny clothes and undersized underwear
careful to separate picture books from zippered pajamas.
one woman knelt on the toy room floor
separating Mr. Potato Head’s limbs and lips
from a smattering of what was labeled this-n-that.
and the three women loved her.
and Lois of Clovis fed her sugar baby
while the two little walking bumble bears
robed, disrobed, giggled and hid their winsome smiles
beneath plastic woven laundry baskets.
and all at once, when everyone saw the haystack was re-moved
that the floor was clean, – well, their gumption exploded
into pink, blue and green party balloons!
and Lois of Clovis, -awake, sleepy, anxious, stunned,
was changed, –

::

for Quickly & Real Toads

those shoes’ll do

“But all the magic I have known
I’ve had to make myself.” – Shel Silverstein

i’ve had to lace up
many a pair of shoes
with holes in the toes
lilac purple stains
on both sides
on days i’ve needed magic
(quartz, &poppy face guaranteed)
i’ve got shoes
i’m not afraid of getting hole-y
so if you’re not afraid too,
there’s magic
in your shoe,
–  i know because i’ve seen
old dogs on hind legs drinking
from the old silver horse trough
sparkling with rainwater

::

playing it again for RT