A war

 Suddenly ambushed

By whatever the hell

Holds up the ceiling

And nails me to the floor


I am an inch tall

I weigh a ton


Red fluids slosh


That woman in the blue sweater?

She will blast off into space 

At any moment

Spoons and lamps spinning after her


We are smithereens

We are rubble


The bowstring of the day is drawn 

As far as it will go 


Numbered days

Numbered skies

Numbered gardens


Patience of the roof 

Generosity of the shining bridge


Still alive in 2023

A war


                   -- New York, December 20, 2023

Dream: these are the tools you'll need


Last night I dreamt my mother gave me a toolkit when I was still in her womb.
In the dream I am me as I am today and also me floating in amniotic fluid and cigarette smoke 78 years ago.  One by one, Mom inserts little tools into her bellybutton. 
   
"Here are the tools you'll need," she says, rubbing her round belly.

I hear her voice from inside and outside, then and now, echoing down the years and through my veins.

 

Place the clock carefully


Place the clock carefully
In the pasture
On the shady side
Plunge your hand in the sack
Take a handful of seeds
Warm from the field
Thank you flame hair
For looking like lost Lucy

-- New York, February 14, 2016