04/08/18

“swing baby swing…”
arms flung straight
aside
chin craned skyward,
genuflect in raucous air,
oh how we are best-loved
when flying
“as i start to sing…”
or rather spread
our aliveness out
like fingers of breath,
become a chatterchorus
of cacaphonic sound,
“your favorite song”
let’s fill up all open spaces today,
rush into the cracks
of our own sadness
we are honey beings
baby, “let’s go dancing
(aye)…”

keep your eye

[happy mother’s day! i hope you enjoy this poem i created for the may 5th services at all souls unitarian universalist church in tulsa, as part of my artists’ residency. the whole church is exploring the theme of truth for the month.]

keep your eye (interpolates excerpts from the song “anticipate” by ani difranco)

1.
“we don’t say everything that we could
so that we can say later, ‘oh, you misunderstood’”
in the story i heard,
someone else played the role of villain,
though my mother never revealed
their evil deed.
she just said it, like sliding
a note underneath the door.
when my mother doesn’t give
explanations willingly,
don’t even bother asking.
she clearly did not want to talk about it.

2.
fact: noun. a thing that is known or proved to be true.
eventually, we started having an affair.
both she and i, cheating on our respective partners,
all under the same roof, all under their noses.
after six months, we came clean, endured painful breakups,
then reuinited with our partners, and started cheating.
together. again.
i kept telling myself these lies:
that i was changing, becoming better,
but the truth is,
i never had good intentions to begin with.

3.
“i hold my cards up close to my chest,
i say what i have to, and i hold back the rest”
the internet became, during that time, its own magician.
people could prestidigitate themselves
into whatever they wanted.
so, that’s what i did.
slipped on new names, stole beautiful women’s pictures
made the boys of my dreams fall in love
with the girl i’d always wanted to be.
i wasn’t really lying to them,
not even about how much i loved them.
it was my voice, my feelings, my personality,
just poured into a package they actually wanted.
a package that didn’t look like me.

4.
qualifier: noun. a word or phrase used to attribute a quality to another word.
i do this thing
where i add words like “little bit” and “kinda”
to my statements. it’s a coping skill.
to make me smaller. to make me feel more protected.

5.
“you are subtle as a windowpane standing in my view,
but i will wait for it to rain so that i can see you”
my grandmother always said my parents left me with her
because i was sick. i believed for a long time
that they didn’t like me, didn’t want to be with me,
because i was sick.
my grandmother never told me how she convinced
my parents that my bronchitis would heal faster
if i were with her, that her house was warmer
than theirs.
better for me.

6.
omission: noun. someone or something that has been left out or excluded.
it felt like a betrayal to have ever had my uncle near us.
It felt like a betrayal that my mother never
told us what he did to her,
what he could have done to us.
he’s in prison now. for molesting another little girl.
i hate him.

7.
“for every hand extended, another lies in wait”
he told me he loved me. said, “in the unlikely event
that we don’t end up together, i will never
disappear from your life.”
what he didn’t say was that he was already
somebody’s husband, and five children’s father.

8.
“repetition is the secret to developing a powerful belief.”
listen. hear the chanting in the distance.
now, whether those voices encant
truth or lie,
bottomless love or brittle hatred,
they are doing the same work.
they are making themselves
believe

melodies and play

[this is an impromptu poem i wrote during a service on creativity at all souls unitarian universalist church in tulsa, ok. i wrote the piece during that service, interspersing words and images therein, and then read the finished piece as the closing remarks. i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!]

…and here is our standing

invitation

to come and play –

sleep has released us from its embrace

we have rolled lazily, groggily,

inventively into this day

spoons clink in coffee cups,

saxophones trade notes

with piano keys,

babies cry, dogs bark in the distance,

earth-breath of wind tickles the leaves.

we are part of the improvisational

symphony of living-

we paint it:

in ketchup on dinner plates,

in doodles in meeting agendas,

in finger traces across a lover’s cheek.

“the most elemental and in most

aspects of our being…”

connect us like a great

guitar string of consciousness

one to another, one in another,

we share in melodies of deep silence

and raucous laughter.

we dance it:

walking down the street,

stumbling tiredly into the supermarket,

hugging our loved ones.

if only we could see ourselves

in each moment

weaving and whittling new worlds

from the organic matter

of our oneness.

what color is your courage?

how will you choreograph

the dance of your

every single day?

build a fire in the form of memory

and let it guide us to new truths.

this is the day we’ve been given,

and the invitation is infinite.

you are never early or late,

the time is always now.

come.

come and play.