i have a swimming pool, you should come by

18 ft long
9 ft wide
a giant couple in neon green leaves the bowling alley
presumably headed to eat ham & cheese sandwiches
I'm a jerk
I'm making this woman do a cannonball in my mind
tidal waves, letting her thousands of grandchildren surf the day away
how do you get a swimming pool, I want one
I bet I'll meet one in new orleans
I bet I'll meet some mystics
& crafters of witchness
nickey, chad & I
we'll have to find our fourth
from the corners of a bright bluewatered rectangle
Hail to the guardians of the watchtowers of the east, one of us will call out, disinterestedly sipping a mint julep
We hail you

up

so many bugs in your hair to wake up in

a goodmorning place to be

shake the leaves out

shake the leggies out

iridescent wingers

green shine

morning muscle

in a back all taught with tough

morning tuft, curls
shake my halo

smoke hair halo

wave smoke, docile eyes

bee dance, twirl

such a shorty

mourning doves

all of the others in matutinal jam

singing for summer

and overcast under outside bedclothes

I can sleep through the night, now

I am a furnished hole

a piece of finish, sometimes

suspend it

not be disbelieving

selfish

I got someone's digits!

ya, when was the last time that happened

he was at my garagesale

he came early 

with another longhair don't care hippie 

I can't remember what he bought, 

but he came back for some speakers I'd already sold

He'd put his hair in a low ponytail by that time

and I was in rollerskates by that time

and I was sort of drunk by that time

so I complimented him on his turquoise rings

giant rings on every finger

each was so solid & big & pretty and all so different from one another.

Was that a mistake!

he took the opportunity to tell me about each one

longwinded stories

but I learned that turquoise has sex

I mean, it's sexed

I mean, it's sexy

but apparently, green turquoise is female and blue is male

so I learned something

which is always a fine, fine thing to do. 

He had hair down to where his brastrap would be

which is what we all pine-for

long, wavy, salt & pepper hair

and a tiny round butt on his chin

I'm Italian, he said, So I know how to do just about anything

I grew up in NY in the '70s, it was pretty out there

I'm a non-believer - he paused - I don't believe in anything, I'm a nihalist

I don't believe in age-barriers

or gaps

So we should party

but before he said this, he asked if he could pay $.25 for a bunch of index cards

I told him he could take them

so he wrote down his name

and as he did he said, I also have Penmanship

and I said, Well you certainly do

he wrote his number down

and his email address. He hasn't gotten "into" tweeting

So... Let's Party Sometime

and I said, ya

But, I don't know

I don't believe in age-barriers

or gaps

but the second he said,    I'm a nonbeliever

I thought, screamed inside

Well I Believe in EVERYTHING

but what I'd mostly be believing

is that this dad's-age-hippie

wants to smoke doobies

wants to rock out

wants to fuck

wants to give me some stories

wants to give me some turquoise jewelry

made in Albuquerque in the '70s

and I'm down with like 2 of these things

but I am not Pure

and I am not looking to be

       new friends

       because I am eternal selfish

stop doing how you do

never tell someone to love! I fixed myself up,

fox yourself up. I like to take inventory too much

I found this old green gridded journal for officing

so when someone would borrow a book, they could check it out

from the library, bc I even have one of those date stampers

it can stamp any day between 1992 and 2013

I don't know what will happen in 2014

maybe we'll stop reading by then

god I hope so, I have too many books lugging around

So the lendee would sign the book's inside cover, and I'd stamp it with a due date

a date we'd agreed on

a date before 2014, sometime

and she let her old boyfriend borrow one hundred years of solitude

and she'd forgotten she'd done that, so it was about a hundred years late but is back on the shelf

along with all of the other Márquez I've never read

save for the novelette about the president

that I read aloud to bruce over a lantern

at the reservoir while he poured vodkas

I wonder if I will ever read one hundred years of solitude

I keep thinking I will

the other books haven't been returned... I stupidly in romantic fever lent a lover's discourse

to some ex-girlfriend of my friend's ex-boyfriend, so-

I lent it at the bar, too

I had my stamp & my logbook & everything already with me, the bar library

but that was last summer

and she unfriended me on facebook

but I know she couldn't have digested that

but I ingested it so I guess I hope she passes it along

I lent light in august which is one of the two Faulkners I've done

I started it one August

and finished it the following August

 am I a slow reader :/

nah, I was reading linguistics texts

and postmodern short stories

remember? I was trying to be in COLLEGE again, whatever

I lent light in august to andy, but then of course he broke up with me

and I told him to finish it and give it back

and then I told him I just wanted it back

and then I told him he could burn it if he wanted, that I never wanted to see it again

yeah, I think I'll go take some inventory

inventorying is relaxing

i swear a mourning dove lives beneath the awning

today I'm like the actor in monochrome when the movie is like heavy

like saturated reds & greens, that kind of movie

way newer than technicolor, but still the thick dense 8mm sort

that thickworld

& I'm the one with the umbrella, but it isn't raining

so the other actors walk around me down the streets,

avoiding me because

umbrellas always have those sharp stabbers when the rubber things fall off

which I think always they do,

and it's even worse, doing this, because

I've always hated umbrellas.

I've always thought

so I will be wet

so my hair will be fuzzy

so my eyes will tear up

so my coat darkens.

but the rain on a face,

nice, nice

nice

nice

& the other actors mill about avoiding

but they're uncertain, mostly, why don't I see the sun &

the saturated red & green?

but I mean, they're just actors so probably they aren't thinking that at all.

it's really hard to tell, I mean

impossible to tell

what the others

could possibly be thinking

it's okay because I won't stop thinking of what others could possibly be thinking

and what they would think if I told them what I was thinking

or even would they think anything at all.

I had this box of coffee which mostly just spilled onto the floor of my car.

I had a beer in a jar.

I went to the thrift store, and there was an ad on the radio about how boise interior design & co or something supports the christian radio station

what was it

not the teachings

not the services

oh, oh

the duty

yeah, the duty. doing a duty deed

& so in the spirit of it all I bought a child's forest camo tee

like the kind with the leaves

& the branches

& I paid a man drinking a sprite

and he sort of stood there for a second, I think deciding what to do with this sprite in his hand

so he settled on setting it down. He had a superlow voice

& this steady uncertain movement

of a recent believer, or a recent exsmoker, or a recently having been given-birth-to, again

and he said: with fondness, & a struggling sentimental: I'll bet this is for your little boy, isn't it

and I almost lied

no

I said I don't have any children

& he looked me over

and he said, oh, I see, you're small

did he say small bodied?

I left because the beer in the jar was getting warm

& I had looked in the mirror

& my clothes were so drab

so like end of summer, hating on early fall because it will become winter so can't look at the

pretty present

but instead at the sad torturous months ahead, sad futures

it's that sort of outfit

but I'm not that sort of girl

I don't hang in the treacherous promise future

I hang with the heart in my chest kind of present

my brain

my bod

my chipped teeth

they are good for tearing flesh

they are good

for caring

caring flesh

& this morning

& right now

I hear the low moan of a mourning dove, and it sounds so close I think it just must be tucked under that stupid stripe-ed awning

which is pretty nice

it's pretty nice

poem(s) for yellow

from crepuscular orations

with little squares of yellow light, like the background of a play.
lesser yellowlegs
yellowthroat
greater yellowlegs
yellow ribbon lichen,
yellow ribbon lichen.
a yellow corona tee-shirt with cutoff sleeves.
he wore a yellow
to Yellowstone at freezing temps,
folded delicately between the now yellowed pages.
The blue yellow gray between the shades fades.
his beautiful yellow labrador;
kicks the yellow dog out of the way and exits the building.
To him, my butteryellow bandana.
yellow trees,
yellow slowmotion leaves falling.

from momentos preciosas

green and yellow peppers
yellow winter remaining

too night

Just in through the beak strainers. The green water! awaits you. It, and all the leaves it holds. Bayleaf floats. They are, the ones fallen from the above, the half-shade maker. Liking the ducks, the subtler commandeer, and the orange beaked, unsure footed ones.