Kitty
Really I barely knew her.
She was the wife
of my great-uncle Bill,
and I barely knew him either.
Neither of my kids
would even recognize their names.
But she sat in a room once,
maybe with the sun coming in,
and painted a delicate pitcher
full of flowers.
Was it there in the room?
Did she use a photograph?
Had she always wanted to be a painter?
/ / /
3 April 2024
Charlottesville VA
NaPoWriMo Day 3
Category: My poems
Winter Is For Big Bands
It’s when the sax soli starts that you know:
a more sure sign than the fire or the snow.
I miss him the most then, and the records
he’d play for me in front of the credenza
with the turntable hidden inside.
That’s where it started for me,
and that’s where I find refuge
during the winters of the world.
Glen Gray under his skies,
Artie Shaw as the cocoa cools
enough to drink.
/ / /
2 April 2024
Charlottesville VA
NaPoWriMo Day 2
The Memory Of Faith
I keep being told I love fiercely and well,
yet when the music stops I am left
without a chair,
watching the other lovers sit.
I no longer like this game.
Let the music continue —
I’ll hear the faint strains of song
as I walk to my fitted apartment,
back to the plants and the memory
of faith.
/ / /
1 April 2024
Charlottesville VA
NaPoWriMo 2024 Day 1
In the photo they are
monochrome
expression-less
pitchfork
morningcold
gothic
heartbound
destined
found.
/ / /
17 March 2023
Charlottesville VA
I Am The Queen Of All I Survey
Softly swelling minor chords.
A crumpled paper towel.
The slowly sagging hellebore.
A satchel, partly open.
/ / /
13 March 2024
Charlottesville VA
Thief
I’m supposed to be asleep.
You told me.
Hanna told me.
I’m awake, though, with
Australian indie rock
on the speakers
& daffodils on the table.
I fight the critic at night.
Tonight we ganged up on him
& he vanished like
Smeagol’s other half.
I’m supposed to be asleep.
The first iteration of that line
looks longer because of
the short line that follows.
It’s an illusion, though,
a story my eyes tell my brain,
which is a credulous creature
at the best of times.
Now there’s a queer nonbinary
songwriter playing
& I still haven’t gone to bed
because the night is
what I steal back from the day.
/ / /
12 March 2024
Charlottesville VA
Bonny Good Night
He cleans up from the unexpected visitor.
Throws the diced carrots in the bin.
Scrapes the dollop of peanut butter after them.
The bowl of water, untouched,
he pours down the sink.
The dishes done, he hangs his apron,
surveys the room, notices her absence.
Finds a single hair on the screen of his phone.
Then it’s off to bed, alone as normal,
missing the promise of warmth at his side.
/ / /
4 March 2024
Charlottesville VA
Such A Good Day
The thing is:
I had such a good day.
I saw a friend.
I ate tres leches.
I got complimented
on my outfit (twice).
I petted a dog.
I fist-bumped a kid.
I bought a record.
I bought a book.
I ate cold pizza.
I drank a diet soda.
(Pepsi, but you can’t
win ’em all.)
Anyway the point is this:
I had such a good day.
But when I came home,
you weren’t here.
That would have made it perfect.
/ / /
24 February 2024
Charlottesville VA
His Heart
He called them his heart,
not because he no longer had one,
but because she added to its capacity,
made it more expansive,
allowed him to love … well, more.
He called her his heart,
because they loved him, and that truth,
that essential knowledge,
was a solid place to stand
in a world that was constantly shifting.
He called them his heart,
because she reminded him it was there,
that it could be opened to the elements
without the fear that always followed.
She threw open the shade, let in the sun.
He called her his heart,
because they gave him the moss
and the lichens and the bees,
reminded him why the music mattered,
and sent him to sleep with a smile.
/ / /
21 February 2024
Charlottesville VA
half a mug
of cold chai —
all that’s left
/ / /
19 February 2024
Charlottesville VA
after the rain:
fat sparrow spies
worms under a Kia
/ / /
7 January 2024
Charlottesville VA
in a haiku it is
generally best to do
whatever the fuck you want
/ / /
6 January 2024
Charlottesville VA
The Ocean
We’re both listening to
Richard Hawley.
Not together, but
together anyway.
When “The Ocean”
comes on I imagine…
it doesn’t matter.
But I’m certainly
picturing it as the violins
dance in the background.
There’s no key
for this painting.
We just have to guess
at the colors,
try to keep them from
spilling off the canvas.
“You’ll lead me down
to the ocean.”
Guitar solo.
Here comes a wave.
/ / /
5 January 2024
Charlottesville VA
The Many Worlds Hypothesis & Song To A Seagull
Joni Mitchell sang into
an open piano
when she recorded
her first album
because David Crosby
thought it would
enhance her voice —
and it did,
but it also magnified
the other sounds in the room
so they were forced to
strip away the high frequencies,
leaving a flatter beauty,
and this is why
I am careful when I
look at you
because the universe
has limits.
/ / /
3 January 2024
Charlottesville VA
Completeness
squirrel on the lawn
crow on the wire
(there’s a little piece
of my soul in you)
crow on the wire
squirrel on the lawn
(and a piece
of yours in me)
/ / /
31 December 2023
Charlottesville VA