Well, I'm back...

I'm back in the States... physically. The trip was way more than I bargained for (don't worry, it will show up in the poetry I'm sure) and I'm jetlagged like crazy. I know I'm at least one poem behind, maybe two, but I can't bring myself to post them right now. There'll be work involved in getting them right, and I'm absolutely exhausted. So I have to beg your pardon, and I'll have to do it again this coming weekend when I fly to North Carolina. I'll catch up before I leave, honest... so I can work on catching up all over again when I get back.

On the road again.

I may or may not be able to post between now and Sunday. I'll be in Barcelona. I'll keep writing of course. If I can find a computer, I'll upload what I've got. If not, I'll hit you when I get back.

7/30: DEAD BOY'S MOM SAYS SHE KNEW OF BEATINGS

A Little Rock Air Force Base airman admitted
in Pulaski County court Monday that she knew
her husband had been beating her 2-year-old son for months
before the toddler died at the hands
of his stepfather — her husband — in 2007.

There are (at least) one hundred and fifty people
dead in Italy, just because the ground felt
like shaking. I don't understand it. Ten times
that many are wounded, and ten time *that* many
are homeless. I guess God just can't be
everywhere all the time.

In the meantime, some boys calling themselves
Tar Heels are blowing everyone in North Carolina's
minds, racking up points and winning games.
I know these things because I read the newspaper,
you see.

Not so long ago it was that I read a story about
orangutans, and how they're going extinct, probably
in my own lifetime. Read how there was a group of people
out in the wilderness working with the orangutans,
teaching them to fish, to use tools, to hunt. Did you know
orangutans don't know how to swim? I'd had no idea.
But these people were teaching them how so they could learn
to save their own lives.

And I wonder why nobody taught that little two-year-old
baby to swim.

6/30 Interview

What brings you here today?
What experience do you have in the field?
What is your favorite color?
What is your greatest fear?

Do you think freedom is possible?
Do you fancy yourself free?
Do you think love is real?
Do you think life is easier with it or without?

What makes you saddest?
Where do you go when you cry?
What do you want to be when you grow up?
When did you first realize your parents were not gods?

What would you choose for a last meal?
Who would you ask to prepare it?
What do you wish for between sleep and awake?
Where do we go from here?

5/30: Inventory of Lies

I love you.

This is my first time.
I'd love to go out with you again.
Of course I remember your name.

This is my first time with a boy.
I don't mind if you stay the night.
Why yes, I just love to fall asleep cuddling.
I'll call you again real soon.
That was amazing.

I think you're my soulmate.
I'll wait for you.
It really is a good size.
Of course your religion won't be a problem.
I've only been with five people.
Don't worry, it's my first time with a girl, too.
I don't mind that you have a wife.
I don't mind if we date other people.
I'm really happy for you both.
I do.

Don't worry, it happens to all kinds of guys.
I want to grow old with you, too.
No, I would never tell my friends.
I only want to make out.
It's okay, we have an open relationship.
Of course I'm over him/her/them.
I love you.

I'm sorry.
All we did was kiss.
We've stopped seeing each other already.
I never thought you'd get hurt.
I love you.
I mean it.

It's not his fault he gets angry.
It doesn't hurt as bad as it looks.
I don't mind if you do a little coke now and then.
Haven't thought of her much lately.
No no, I'm not falling in love.

I promise, I'll call you next week.
I love you.

4/30: Pinnochio Growed Up

So it's the 30/30 challenge - April is National Poetry Month, so write a poem a day for 30 days... NaPoWriMo gives you 30 rough drafts. Today is extra rough, still just an idea in my head. Check back from time to time if you're so inclined to see how the poems of the past days have changed, reshaped, words exchanged, ideas rearranged... as in, today I'm not proud of but it might be better in a few days...

---------
He told the lie quite by accident,
the first in twenty-some years.
It was simple, and painless, the waitress asked
if he wanted cream with his coffee,
and his hasty reply was:
"No. I mean... yes."
And there it was, just like that. And because
he was a real boy now, he found, his nose
didn't budge an inch. He tried it again
later, on the subway. Leaned over
to a complete stranger and said,
"I *love* that tie." Just to get
the feel of the lie in his mouth,
oil-slick and metallic tasting. Over the next
five years, he married for money, took a mistress,
made her his second wife, took a third, traded stocks
with insider info, told his children he loved them
even on the days when he didn't. When he realized
he could no longer understand the crickets' song,
the weight of it all became too much to bear.
He went to the old home where his father still lived,
still carved, still sang in the mornings and told him
everything. Something changed in Gepetto's eyes.
He sat down his knife and after a six-foot silence sighed:
"I never should have wished you
down off those strings."

3/30

In the dream you were a coal-dust kitten, tiny beetles for eyes,
sitting on the corner, crying, each mew another spider falling
out of your mouth and onto the floor. You clung so quickly
with those tiny new claws. When I brought you water, you
asked me for whiskey. When I poured it,
it turned into blood in the bowl.

I made you a bed and fed you love songs for dinner until
one morning you woke up, rubbed your eyes, and called me
(accidentally) "mother." I drove you out to the country. Left you
at the first farmhouse I found, only glanced in the rearview
once.

30/30 challenge, day 2: astronomy class invades my poetry

You awake every day to a drum,
the persistent pounding
of so many tiny planets on your pillow,
their determined orbits blocked
until you lift your proud, growling head
and they sigh with relief, once again able
to complete their circular devotions.

You tug cobweb nebulas out of your locks,
rub protostars from the corners of your eyes,
and later, as you slip into an elevator at
the very last moment, nearly lose two satellites
to the closing doors.

So you see I can't help it if I find my thoughts
revolving around you. Give me a name
befitting a moon. Tell me again,
Apollo, what my eyes remind you of.
Tell me once more, sweet Ra, about clouds
of carbon atoms in space, the brilliance of
supernovae exploding, the oceans that cover
that tiny third planet which has always
been your favorite.

April 30/30 Challenge: Day 1

There is another world in which,
when he told you he wanted you
all to himself, you (so like the night sky)
threw back your head and laughed an
aurora borealis in his face. You didn't mean
to be rude. When you came to me later,
(you, so like the ocean, making waves
all through my house) and told me about it,

we marveled at the impossibility of you
belonging to one person as we pictured the poor boy
standing on the beach trying frantically to scoop
all of its sand into his arms. Then we kissed,
soft like breezing, and you tied one of your shells
into my hair. And dusk fell. And the tide came in.

Look Out World...

...here comes April...