wordle

poem : hemming blues

I'll ask you this: what will I keep of yours
I'm asking you, what can I keep
when you are so far away?

what can I get away with
what can I steal now
to win your smile?

like sand, what grains of yours
can I move, piece by piece, each day?
somehting you won't notice
and you realize only weeks later
it can't be found and I'm walking around
my pockets full of you

why do I have to come up with these ways to take you?
why do you make me find ways to steal you?
my hands in my pockets, not claiming my thievery

I keep this
have to keep this part of you
warming between my hands

anything for the chance to find my fingers in your tufted hair,
to call your scent home

this is the story of that nudge calling us
this is the story of that calling
that shoulder pass that sparked this whole world

with hands full we call out our new names
turn at knowing our new names
start our lives again

I scatter some sand, baptized by earth
you sprinkle the water, baptized by water
I pass the flame, baptized by fire
you blow the smoke, baptized by air

made living, this love
made living, this love
we bring

poem : octopus

octopus

I've given in to celebration
tartsweet candy piled high in my palm
I lick it down before i can secondguess

the new year creeps in
and I am resolute

no longer searching for magicians
after all, I too carry magic

no longer conspiracy
I am a conspirator

and, even if I'm the one raisinghell, poking dragons,
my hands reaching out
I need someone who'll slay them

a small red circle stains my palm
a signal to all
I've given myself over to the sweetness of being saved

poem : the sky within

the sky within

for T

words hidden just for you
I leave hints beneath your skin
strands linking us
strands of light linking us
despite our struggles
the air we breathe in
full breaths me into you
you into me

can you find me?

there in your heart
there on your lips
the life the life we share
the ways we come together
come apart

come together
breathe me in
let me give you

you hold me hold my heart
in your breath

you hold the sky within
hold the sky within

me

Vacation : March 24, 2010

My one goal today: drive so fast out of Texas the boundary line would show up on mapquest as a burst with the words POP and BAM surrounding it.

I stopped in Mt. Vernon for food (somhow, I can't manage the toasted breads, texas-shaped waffles and boiled eggs of hotel continental breakfasts) and ended up at a place that had, as its special, a fried vegetable of the day. Of course I tried it: fried broccoli. Not tempura. Just fried. With ranch dressing, of course (this is the South).

I flew through Texarkana but had to stop once I got into Hope, Arkansas. While my mom is one of those old school "Clinton is still sexy" baby boomer women, it never occurred to me this was his hometown until I saw the huge sign stating so. I knew I was in a different country when I stopped for gas and asked for directions to the local post office. Four minutes of directions later, I found myself at the post office - perfect. Even better, I drove back toward the highway easily and ended up right in front of Clinton's childhood home. There was a railroad track right across the way. I managed to buy a Clinton magnet for the parents and mailed a package of little goodies I'd bought so far for the kid.

I was already loving this trip - buying from small, independent stores and restaurants, stopping at only the smaller towns, talking with folks. I was having a good time and everyone was friendly. Still, I was ready to be in Tennessee already.

I'd been looking at schools that offer graduate programs in ethnomusicology but, in searching for these and in reading more and more I realized that the music that attracted me most was the music based in Southern cultures. Blues, jazz, folk. I was starting to fall in love with the blues without even realizing. So, my trip was for a real vacation but it was also to immerse myself in those areas with direct experiences rooting it.

Ah, I thought I'd never make it to Memphis but, crossing that beautiful bridge, overlooking the Mississippi River, I felt at home. Truly at home. In conversation with T later that evening he thought it might be deja vu but it wasn't like I'd been there before in an awkward sense. Rather, I drove in knowing I'd been there before.

I unloaded my stuff in the hotel, washed up, made myself pretty, and walked over to Beale Street. Oh, I had a good time just walking downtown. I got a couple of pics of The Orpheum too. I managed to find food at almost midnight at Mr. Handy's Blues Hall, where I drank my new favorite beer, Samuel Smith's Nut Brown Ale and cajun bbq'd shrimp and boiled potatoes. I spent about 10 minutes flirting with the cooks, who were relaxing after a long night of cooking. It was nearing 1 a.m. and the place was closing. Still, I couldn't get the recipe off anyone but, what looked like dried pine needles in the bbq rub on the shrimp must have been rosemary. An excellent meal.

Walking back to the hotel was easy, while a trolley ran through midnight, the walk was nice. There were big clouds, nearing 50 degrees and a slight, humid wind. I was four blocks from the Mississippi River and felt it. It really is a different thing to live near water. A prerequisite for the soul, if you ask me.

I had a conversation with someone I was seeing last year, who happened to call just as I was packing up the day before I left, who told me to be careful because of the crime. I could understand that - I'm a woman traveling alone into a number of cities known for their nightlife. But she showed her racism by adding that there were a lot of blacks in Memphis (who knew!), trying to connect one to the other. But I'd never felt safer. I knew this place. I had been here before. I knew the statue on the riverbank honoring a black man who saved the lives of a dozen folks when the ferry was capsizing. I knew the one-block park a block from The Orpheum. I knew these folks. They, like this river, were mine.

I happened upon five taxis waiting along a side street, where one Panamanian driver smiled at me and said "good evening sexy lady". I also had one guy walk opposite me but still at a respectable distance when he asked if he could come home with me. I said no and crossed the street but I never felt unsafe. I actually tried not to laugh out loud as he called out to me after to say "you've got it coming and going". Well, I can't deny that.

I slept great. I've never slept better than this first night in my new home town.

Vacation : March 23, 2010

Last year's vacation consisted of mirroring my days off to the kid's school's days off. I didn't realize how much I needed real time off until I left this morning, hoping to make a big beautiful belly button on the southern half of the united states (SA to Dallas to Memphis to Clarksdale to New Orleans and back home).

I started slowly, packing my bags yesterday (despite being off since last Friday), packed my jewelry and packed snacks. I also got to see T, which was a great goodbye to my trip but probably helped in my moving more slowly this morning.

I decided against breakfast because it was almost 10 a.m. but went up the street for a triple latte at Olmos Perk at The Yard. I'm never sure about going there but I, for one, have had plenty of Starbucks lately and, the purpose of my trip was to enjoy and support real places and real folks. I wasn't in there two minutes before seeing a poet friend of mind hanging with some friends. Then they were out of medium cups so I got an extra couple of ounces as a pilon. The barista liked my hat (my traveling fedora, that is). Then, while I flirted with a girl who kept bumping into me, the customer behind me commented on how he liked my tattoo (I just got it so I'm still in the new-baby-moment, wanted to discuss its multiple meanings, how I feel now as a tattooed person, other obnoxious things).

Well, this boded well for me. I walked out happily with my cafe and took the short road up to Austin to meet Lilia and Carol, a couple of sweethearts, for a quick lunch before heading further north.

After a long, enjoyable lunch, I headed up the great white highway toward Dallas. It seems, whenever I have my doubts that the country isn't full of glorious liberal communities who love their people of color I end up on this same highway: filled with private christian campuses, dixie flags and lots of country radio stations. It's at this time that I realize I forgot my phone charger. Of course, just as I debated getting it fed exed to me, I realized that Sprint is like Starbucks - one on every corner. Within a mile I found one, bought a car charger and was on my way again.

I got to Dallas by 7 or so and was ready to rub my own butt to sleep (note to self: buy cushion for softer rides). I thought to watch porn and write some poems in a half shirt and panties but, somewhere around 10:15 p.m. I realized I didn't want anything from my snack pack (fruit, nuts, vitamin waters and cocoa) so I did a web search and ended up in Dallas' gay hood, at a friendly Cosmic Cafe.

Two humongous samosas and a chai tea later, mama was happy.

Not that I forgot about the porn (okay, well, HBO late night) and jammies (plus a late night "I miss you already" call with T) and I was off to bed.

freedom

seemingly easily understood word - freedom - but I'm like those academics and that one crazy dude who created the most renowned dictionary of the time - I have working drafts of what the word means.

maybe my definition has to move more along the lines of the photographic dictionary, with images which evoke some emotion that awakens the majority with some understanding.

if so, mine would be a split screen of the wreck of a campsite, mid-morning, no breakfast or fire started, much packing to do, and the woman who thinks you two are "dating" has made you momentarily mad but starts hammering that tiny nail in by making you the bad guy to the 10 year old child for not letting them paddle in the canoe. split with the image of a phone call-less week and this new, beautiful ebony djembe drum made with earth-friendly wood and, stamped on the goat skin head, the words "freedom drum".

so, camping started my week wrong but meeting a couple of really great academics [who knew?]this last week, buying thoughtful gifts for friends and family and, more than anything, sitting quietly this weekend and feeling, really feeling, that crispness like an early winter's breeze, of freedom. A sensation I haven't had access to in over a year. I'm finally starting to breathe deeply again.