Mr Clark

The black man who was born
60, 70, or 80 years ago
in the row house
next to my apartment
who still lives in the house
and does so alone.
was walking around
with his walking stick
and fancy new white tennis shoes
A man with an Indian accent was talking to me
about my dresser drawer that I
put out for someone to take

Mr Clark: You got another dresser?
Me: Yes, its blue.
Mr Clark: From where?
Me: IKEA. its pine, it smells great
Mr Clark: Just wait till it rusts.
Me: Rots?
Mr Clark: Rusts. You put stuff on it and it will smell and rust.
Me Thats what my dad said. But it sure is nice.
Mr Clark pulls out a cigarette. Do you have other blue furniture?
Me No.
Mr Clark What?
And walks away

Happy Birthday Schwes by mary

Some people live a life time

Looking for love

In the street

Searching for tenderness

 in their marriage

Some people travel the world

Looking for companions

People to laugh with

And to ogle at the passerbys

Or to jump in the sea

And giggle in its foam

Some people

Never know how to hold hands

For love

Or hug for life

Some body has never wiped

The hair from a sweaty scared brow

or known

How to be gentle with a growing heart

or careful with a hurting body

Some people search and search

For the truth in others

never having known it

Some people

Haven’t written an honest letter

About their insides

Holding it all in

They haven’t heard a voice on the phone

And known

The kind of day

That voice has had just by its sound

Some people

Haven’t slept in twin beds

Double beds

And on couches

With another

Some people

Haven’t watched another grow

Some people

Haven’t helped another

Stretch further

Some people haven't kept

a bond going

for thousands of miles

over years and years

Some people haven't heard

the wailing of pain

in a heart hurt by disappointment

Some people haven't heard

that wail turn into a laugh

a moment later

Some people haven't held a newborn

and watched 29 years later

when she held her own

Others have judged others away

Those people never had a sister

Flor

For those of us actually still working in August

reaching our burn out levels

here is my gift to you

and gift to me

from the cacti god

the most perfect flor

Women & Music

Great info from women about being in music

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=128528494

Grados de Calor

the sun is like a computer battery
that needs to be unplugged
the difference between the shade
and shine
is muchos muchos grados
de calor
the sound is
zi zi ziziziziz
secadas singing up and down
in some hilly melody
the crickets do their
brief and prolonged
zhip zhip zhiiiip
I walked the old field
where we used to run
mosquito feasting
on brown skin
salty body water
sliding out of pores
onto a cotton shirt
enveloped between grass
and trees
couldn't just drive by
or sit on the car
had to swim in the growth
like the quenching ripples of water
it pulled me in
a mermaid of the trees
the grass sweat
smelled of our days
of running
every afternoon
in the bowels
of this raw green
I longed for nothing
felt no nostalgia
there was no memory
I desired
no,
it was that it had all
passed
and was inside of me
I reveled in it
with each
heat delayed stride

nashville

what will i say? i will say its sunny here, and nostalgic. i picture me and my highschool girl friends, the ones i am still quite close to, driving down one of this windy tree filled streets, listening to indigo girls & simon & garfunkel (yes I know) singing loud while drinking a nashville favorite- fruit tea. i picture us in the pool all day laughing and analyzing the minutiae of guy behavior and our latest personal goals and dreams. and slowly over the years we accomplished them, gradually becoming pretty remarkable women..;) 

anyways there is nothing like summer in this town. and what a town its become. the local social newspaper that we used to read in highschool is unrecognizable...highlighting musicians, artists, restaurants, and vibe that i just always dreamed about. nashville is v brooklyn now. and better cuz its cheaper and its southern which means its happier. who would have ever imagined. 

as we sat in the restaurant after my mom picked me up from the airport to eat some sort of lunch breakfast, i felt so relaxed by how, well, how relaxed every one else was. people looked like they didn't really have to do THAT much today. it was a happy feeling. and it had an effect. immediately i felt like the edge was melting. 

balking and breaking

The light was hasty to leave

At 6:45AM it shined in lines on the summer bed sheet

By 7 it had raced out of the sky

The living room was black

Last night we didn’t walk

We who trek in downpours

And illegal humidity

Yesterday oxygen balked

Rebelled

And all that was left

Was air that choked

The throat

and brought an unexpected

ache to right corner

of the forehead

so we stayed in and laid about

in skirts

holding short glasses of

icy tart alcohol

but that all changed

when the light did

this morning

the oxygen protest

was broken

with a succession of crashing

banging
stunning and cracking
the cool water
pushing and pulling
the air
forcing it into submission
minutes later

a new breeze

breathing restored

a new day

i'm wiser

like the leaf that falls
to the grey
scratchy concrete
unable to tolerate
the heat
i give up
to me
when i
meet
someone like you
you

like the storm that blew
harder than we expected
I'm the tree that you
fell
you turned off the electricity
and blocked the road

you who neither stays
nor goes away

you who neither will be
nor was

you took my skin like
it was silk to wrap
around you

you who used your hand
to change my direction
like the clay on a pottery wheel

you who still sits in my skin and
like the itch of
a mosquito bite
from the weekend trip to the lake

Unable to control myself
i scratch you
and you grow
you grow

August ur the apex

August you are the culmination
You are the moment of truth
clumped into a month
You are cool breezy days of fall
squeezing their way into
hot oxygen-less days of the tip
of summer
August you are the breaking point
the place where I can't go beyond
as the same
the place where I can't stop & wait
August
you are reflection
of this thick skinned summer
and its birthing sunset rains
August you are the question
of the Fall
August you are quiet
cause everyone left the city
and yet you stir in me
August
take me there
to the next place

What a voice

Andrew Bird

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=128957393

Those Days

Those days

Where concrete

And AC

Feel very wrong

Those days

When guitars

And voices

Are the only thing right

Those days

When I miss a stranger

More than anyone

Those days

When it could be more right

Those days

When there is space between

Shadows and sunlight

Those days

When I can remember

Things were better

Those days when I hope

Those days

When all I can do is wait

Those days

When I learned too much

To go forward too fast

Come to me

 strong

Those days

when the sky is neither blue

or gray

just smoggy 

Those days

when I'm hungry

but there isn't anything to eat

Those days