new poem

I can’t remember the last time I wrote a poem.

I’ve been working on a couple of manuscript submissions among a few other things. I suspect once I’m back home and done with my deadline, I’ll write again.

Without further ado….

All You Can Eat

The city’s grime on my hands,
my feet

I hike my leg into the sink
watch the dark water
rinse down the drain

no homeless
no bikes
no traffic
just me
and my feet

I wonder how long
before I am obese

like the man picking a quarter cup of coffee
out of the garbage

all I can eat
every day
I’ll go
and stay
for 2 hours
4 kheers after 3 servings of chicken tikka

I’ve eaten enough
now straight to the source
I’ll fill the bowl
with rice pudding and rose petals
and soak

no more food

time to starve

time

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We are all dancing fools

The first time this dance party happened was in January 2009 in celebration of Obama’s inauguration

I remember how happy I was, how we all were so glad Obama made it in, the historical weight of the moment, the readiness for change, something far from Bush, Cheney, Rove, good job Brownie, Halliburton, Blackwater

I remember Dan’s band playing I Can See Clearly Now and screaming it at the top of my lungs in solidarity with its message

The next year, the dance was called “The Full Belly Dance” and I was confused: was it a belly dance dance? Did Dan’s band, The No Nos, even know any middle eastern music to which we could don our I Dream of Jeannie outfits and undulate our hips?

Last night, I went to the dance with a full belly

Thankfully, Paul and I got there late, so I only danced for 2 hours instead of

Apparently, I am not at the mercy of my anemia any more because I danced my ass off without incident

On the other hand, my knees are feeling creaky. How can I dance like that into my 50s, 60s, 70s, how?

My face was lobster red after the dance, the same as the when I had exercise-induced asthma after playing racquetball one time in college (squash?)

I know that dancing and certain kinds of music are banned in certain fundamentalist countries. What do you think Santorum thinks of this?

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when the universe speaks

Somewhere in the middle of my morning, the universe gathered itself beautifully and came to me, the threshold of my breath.

I dropped Violet off at the soup kitchen downtown, so that she could volunteer there, at the behest of her friend.

We walked into the church, a room where I used to attend AA meetings, and into the kitchen. I was overcome when I looked at the industrial-size baking pan filled with fresh-scrubbed new potatoes, tiny red gems still wet from washing.

I teared up right away at those potatoes. Sometimes I am weak in the face of abundance and unbound hearts.

On the way out, I read a plaque on the wall about MLK, who was described as a “drum major for justice.” When I got into my car, I heard the new Jay Farrar song New Multitudes (the title track from a new collaboration album in the same vein as Mermaid Avenue, Vol I and II by Wilco and Billy Bragg), words by Woody Guthrie, to my great surprise, delight, and awe.

Sometimes I believe there is enough for all, that the world is good.

(props to Hubby over at Happy Valley News for his recent resonant post)

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