Category: Poem-A-Day 2013

Jupiter

there are days when even the bright sunshine isn’t enough and I need to come home to hide myself away for a while / I am up in my tower where I’ve pulled up the rope ladder so no one can reach me / meanwhile down below in my backyard there’s a Kiwi painting Andy Warhol images on an old piano / look I could try to explain but if you don’t understand then I probably can’t make you / but let me try to put it simply / it’s a weight / a heavy weight that is constantly there / like / being on the surface of Jupiter / where it’s possible to move / maybe even move / convincingly / but not without a lot of effort / does that sound too melodramatic? / I don’t mean it to / I mean for you to imagine carrying around this extra weight all the time / just as a function of living / not because you’ve done anything wrong or because anyone / has done something to hurt you / after enough years it gets exhausting / some days are much better than others / some days you make bagels and play the ukulele and laugh and tell stories / and almost forget / almost / but even on the best days / even on the days when you feel you might slip the surly bonds of Earth / (to paraphrase the poet) / it’s there / tied to your ankle or belted around your waist or yoked on your shoulders / there must be a key for the lock / somewhere / right?

/ / /

I don’t usually write about depression, even though it’s one of the single most influential elements in my life. It wasn’t until I was 34 or 35 that I finally got diagnosed and started treating it with therapy and drugs. Recently it’s been getting bad again, but I’m grateful that I least have the tools to realize that and deal with it skillfully. I’m not quite doing that yet, but I will soon. In addition to the stigma that often accompanies mental health issues, part of the problem is just describing them. It’s like describing red to someone who can’t see colors. The analogy in this poem is one I often use.

Photo source: http://solarsystem.nasa.gov/

tracks

we sat on a low wall
telling ghost stories
waiting for a train
that never came

walked home
behind the sleeping houses
with their backs
to the silent tracks

at the apartment
there was fresh berry pie
with dotted butter
still warm from the oven

we listened to Yeasayer
stared like new parents
at a lava-lamp cat
on the patio

the cat wasn’t worried
about the future
or the past
smart cat

/ / /

(Photo source: http://www.flickr.com/photos/bblankwater/)

I mean come on

no
seriously
how many more of these
could there possibly be
did I anger some pantheon of gods
of whom I was not previously aware
the first one was fine
understandable
there’s always going to be one
even just looking at it
from the point of view of numbers
stats, I mean
but then there was another
and that was a little more frustrating
and then a third
which is when I started to think
perhaps I was wrong about this whole
non-theist thing
though this feels more like the work of Loki
than some Old Testament Jehovah
actually, that’s not true
he was a trickster, too
it’s getting so predictable
I was barely even surprised
when the fourth one hove into view
a few weeks back
at this point I’ve just about given up
any day without one
is just a day of reprieve
not a sign that the cycle is broken
maybe I’ll take up golf

4 March 2013
Auburn, AL

the armchair bird lover in the raptor house

when a bald eagle flies two feet above your brain
you realize
if it wanted to end your day early, it could

I’ve seen Hitchcock’s The Birds several times
it never felt terrifying to me — or if it did, it was the loss of control
not the birds themselves

but today, learning that the Peregrine Falcon
can drop from the sky at nearly 300 miles per hour
and has a beak designed to break cervical vertebrae

well, let’s just say I get why Tippi Hedren was screaming

I’ve always loved birds — the first nickname I ever had was “Jaybird”
bestowed on me by the Franciscan friar who also gave me
my first idea of what I might like to do for a living

I’m the kind of suburban bird lover, though
who’ll put several feeders in the backyard
without ever learning the names of the birds who show up

oh, I buy bird books and I own a pair of high-quality binoculars
but I can’t see colors well enough to use the books
and I mostly use the binoculars to look at the stars

recently I adopted two small parakeets whose Aboriginal name means
“good for eating”
once I had flying pets in my house I realized
I loved having them swoop and swirl around me
though not everyone does

my friend asked “why don’t raptors attack people?”
I don’t know the answer
all I can say is we’re lucky they’ve decided to share the planet
rather their enforce their much-older claim

3 March 2013
Auburn, AL

charismatic megafauna
(for L)

she spends her time with a very charming grizzly bear
he listens to what she has to say
asks about her day — and really means it
he goes to the shows she wants to see
even if he doesn’t always share her passion for modern art
what a pair they make:
she in her t-shirt and jeans and Chuck Taylors
he in nothing but his glistening fur
when he stands on his hind legs to open a door
he towers above her
but there’s gentleness in his muscled frame
like a linebacker who’s taken ballet lessons
they walk everywhere
he can’t fit in a cab or a subway car
but she doesn’t mind
she’s always liked the outdoors
gets outside whenever she can
night or day, rain or shine, hot or cold
so more often than not if you’re out and about
you’ll see them
a dark-haired woman and her bear
hand in paw
making the most of life

March 1, 2013
Auburn, AL

this poem is a love letter to my friends

I’m too happy to sleep
after the piano and the
mandolin and the banjo
and the bagels and the
guitars and the pizzas
and the stuffed squash
and the Pears Gallumbits
and the headstand
and the Infinity Scarf (TM)
and the too-orange drink
and the laughing
and the Indian food
(or as Sid calls it, food)
and the way that a friend’s visit
made me realize
I’m surrounded on all sides
by people made of joy

24 February 2013
Auburn, AL