Top drawers no longer
mine filled with
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa socks too small
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa for my feet.
he is growing up
He is growing out
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa His space extends
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa beyond bunk beds.
The bookshelves are packed
stacked with old volumes
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa Sherlock Holmes handed down
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa & blocked out by a plastic fire truck.
“I lost my first tooth today”
pressed under a pillow
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa that smells of apple juice
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa not sweat.
a first grader who wants
to be a fireman (not a writer)
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa HE is growing up
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa HIS brother is growing out.
Showing posts with label growing up. Show all posts
Showing posts with label growing up. Show all posts
27 February 2007
no, it was just an ordinary day
no idea of suburban choke
no way out of a street named after a
president whose name sounds
like a candy.
no, it was building in routine
the time it takes to travel to from a lab &
back & to sweep the floor of a church
for an extra hundred dollars a week.
no, it was growing up, or growing out
remodeling a railway that died in the
sixties, keeping track of hockey players stats
cards that consoled when lined up
and never running away from shadows
no idea of suburban choke
no way out of a street named after a
president whose name sounds
like a candy.
no, it was building in routine
the time it takes to travel to from a lab &
back & to sweep the floor of a church
for an extra hundred dollars a week.
no, it was growing up, or growing out
remodeling a railway that died in the
sixties, keeping track of hockey players stats
cards that consoled when lined up
and never running away from shadows
26 February 2007
30 January 2007
swing
we swing
aaaaaa with such an appreciation for snow
against gravity
aaaaaa it was in her nature to forget people’s first names
so many books you couldn’t breathe
aaaaaa soon she began to call everyone
john or betty
chains holding us tight
aaaaaa this is the kind of winter i can bear
when we would get a rip in out panty hoes
aaaaaa a free newspaper everyday
an apparent lack of colour leads the imagination to think of spring
aaaaaa green was his favorite colour
she would send us to the nurse to put an ace bandage on it
spring swing sing
aaaaaa i returned three books on & about Robert Lowell to the shelves
cheeky is not an American word
aaaaaa two flannel shirts the same colour, but with different designs
he tried revising poems years later
aaaaaa push me
an exploration of white space
aaaaaa cities are works of pure happenstance
the tilt of the earth causes climates causes biomes causes
aaaaaa concrete (poetry) to be less concrete & more free than paper
he highlighted texts
aaaaaa A MOVE OF THE CURSER NOT THE SCROLL
(nearly all the words so what was important
aaaaaa went unknown)
renaming the earth to reflect its watery nature
aaaaaa spacing comes into play, but not in the sense of
open field composition, but rather arbitrary fun.
aaaaaa perhaps using the wrong interpretation
half off all books lured me inside
aaaaaa a tale of going around or over the bar
the wood door to her room is broken
aaaaaa but you need the space to breathe
when escaping from a car that has driven into water do not panic
aaaaaa a misuse of vocabulary words
assembling is half the fun
aaaaaa a lock that won’t close
the circulation of air, hot rising, cool falling
aaaaaa a fist size shattering of wood
the top of the coffee tasted like roasted marshmallows
aaaaaa i saw my teacher in the bookstore
wait till the pressure has equalized before opening the door
aaaaaa a rush of wind, a gulping sound
windows will not crack from kicking or keys
aaaaaa a safe stocking stuffer
her room became warm because the thermostat downstairs was set to 75
aaaaaa things i forgot to do
yellow leaves on my floor with writing on them
aaaaaa perhaps you should have purchased that safety hammer from wal-mart
it was awkward and still, me with my hand on a book about Ezra Pound
aaaaaa old post it notes with the glue failing fall
winter without snow
aaaaaa you can make a sentence academic by inserting a term
a topic to write on
aaaaaa a list of due dates past
her mind always shut down when I started to talk of schools of poetry
aaaaaa i could collect them, pressing their patterns between book pages
after my teacher left i had a conversation with him
aaaaaa fascists can be fun sometimes
the cover is orange
aaaaaa cut into wedges, like a soccer game snack
frost in Florida
aaaaaa there in the crowded stacks warm with winter coats on
I bought a book by T.S. Elliot (I know Steve will be mad)
aaaaaa so to avoid a price hike we bought two bags
salt had been spread to keep students safe
aaaaaa a landing pad in the grass
but his poems were illustrated by Edward Gorey
aaaaaa a small peel goes well with wheat beer
the wood shook from the transfer of weight
aaaaaa not because it was cold, because it was alive.
aaaaaa with such an appreciation for snow
against gravity
aaaaaa it was in her nature to forget people’s first names
so many books you couldn’t breathe
aaaaaa soon she began to call everyone
john or betty
chains holding us tight
aaaaaa this is the kind of winter i can bear
when we would get a rip in out panty hoes
aaaaaa a free newspaper everyday
an apparent lack of colour leads the imagination to think of spring
aaaaaa green was his favorite colour
she would send us to the nurse to put an ace bandage on it
spring swing sing
aaaaaa i returned three books on & about Robert Lowell to the shelves
cheeky is not an American word
aaaaaa two flannel shirts the same colour, but with different designs
he tried revising poems years later
aaaaaa push me
an exploration of white space
aaaaaa cities are works of pure happenstance
the tilt of the earth causes climates causes biomes causes
aaaaaa concrete (poetry) to be less concrete & more free than paper
he highlighted texts
aaaaaa A MOVE OF THE CURSER NOT THE SCROLL
(nearly all the words so what was important
aaaaaa went unknown)
renaming the earth to reflect its watery nature
aaaaaa spacing comes into play, but not in the sense of
open field composition, but rather arbitrary fun.
aaaaaa perhaps using the wrong interpretation
half off all books lured me inside
aaaaaa a tale of going around or over the bar
the wood door to her room is broken
aaaaaa but you need the space to breathe
when escaping from a car that has driven into water do not panic
aaaaaa a misuse of vocabulary words
assembling is half the fun
aaaaaa a lock that won’t close
the circulation of air, hot rising, cool falling
aaaaaa a fist size shattering of wood
the top of the coffee tasted like roasted marshmallows
aaaaaa i saw my teacher in the bookstore
wait till the pressure has equalized before opening the door
aaaaaa a rush of wind, a gulping sound
windows will not crack from kicking or keys
aaaaaa a safe stocking stuffer
her room became warm because the thermostat downstairs was set to 75
aaaaaa things i forgot to do
yellow leaves on my floor with writing on them
aaaaaa perhaps you should have purchased that safety hammer from wal-mart
it was awkward and still, me with my hand on a book about Ezra Pound
aaaaaa old post it notes with the glue failing fall
winter without snow
aaaaaa you can make a sentence academic by inserting a term
a topic to write on
aaaaaa a list of due dates past
her mind always shut down when I started to talk of schools of poetry
aaaaaa i could collect them, pressing their patterns between book pages
after my teacher left i had a conversation with him
aaaaaa fascists can be fun sometimes
the cover is orange
aaaaaa cut into wedges, like a soccer game snack
frost in Florida
aaaaaa there in the crowded stacks warm with winter coats on
I bought a book by T.S. Elliot (I know Steve will be mad)
aaaaaa so to avoid a price hike we bought two bags
salt had been spread to keep students safe
aaaaaa a landing pad in the grass
but his poems were illustrated by Edward Gorey
aaaaaa a small peel goes well with wheat beer
the wood shook from the transfer of weight
aaaaaa not because it was cold, because it was alive.
02 December 2006
early mornings in the house my father built
early morning and the sound of my dad's work shoes on the kitchen floor
leaving behind my great-grandmother's quilted coccoon for
orange slice shadows in the hallway and the cold wooden banister gripped
with tiny fingers so i wouldn't slip on the stairs in my
red flannel footie pajamas that haven't asked me to grow up, yet
six a.m. and bleary-eyed, my dad and his brief case in the kitchen
reading from a box of raisin bran with milk spilled on his tie
all grown up with three kids and a house he built himself
my mom still upstairs in their bed sleeping in his warm imprint
bright kitchen light and heat from the woodstove hot on my cheeks
standing on the botton stair, my voice squeeky with leftover sleep
my messy hair, curly like his, smoothed by his freckled hand
my dad calls me by a nickname that tells me i haven't grown up, yet
putting his brief case on the counter and cereal bowl in the sink
the volkswagen rabbit running rough, warming up, waiting for my dad
padding butter on a slice of white bread for me, crumbs fall snowy
on the sleeve of his navy blue suit, the one my mom says matches his eyes
early mornings i woke up for bread and butter and orange air
my grandmother's quilted coccoon waiting warm for me to return
with crumbs on my footie pajamas and a calmer collection of curls
after sharing my dad with the hot woodstove and quiet house
now i wake early mornings grown up, listening to my own work shoes on the kitchen floor
leaving behind my great-grandmother's quilted coccoon for
orange slice shadows in the hallway and the cold wooden banister gripped
with tiny fingers so i wouldn't slip on the stairs in my
red flannel footie pajamas that haven't asked me to grow up, yet
six a.m. and bleary-eyed, my dad and his brief case in the kitchen
reading from a box of raisin bran with milk spilled on his tie
all grown up with three kids and a house he built himself
my mom still upstairs in their bed sleeping in his warm imprint
bright kitchen light and heat from the woodstove hot on my cheeks
standing on the botton stair, my voice squeeky with leftover sleep
my messy hair, curly like his, smoothed by his freckled hand
my dad calls me by a nickname that tells me i haven't grown up, yet
putting his brief case on the counter and cereal bowl in the sink
the volkswagen rabbit running rough, warming up, waiting for my dad
padding butter on a slice of white bread for me, crumbs fall snowy
on the sleeve of his navy blue suit, the one my mom says matches his eyes
early mornings i woke up for bread and butter and orange air
my grandmother's quilted coccoon waiting warm for me to return
with crumbs on my footie pajamas and a calmer collection of curls
after sharing my dad with the hot woodstove and quiet house
now i wake early mornings grown up, listening to my own work shoes on the kitchen floor
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