vacation sedona

 

a consequence

of the full cratered moon

a wolf in the residential

zone of vortexes

crystals gusts

from the red rock basin

raise the lantern 

dusk as ritual

self actualization of light

as coyote giggles

echo small balls

of predatory mindfulness 

ricochets implications 

of indigeneity

the medicine woman

statues canyons names

layered with sedimentary

q’s l’s h’s

geology of wellness

reveals a desert

qualish way we prance

through vulnerability

with our little hats

rest our tired hands

on opuntia cacti

rust our tired pants

on blood colored dirt

orlando bloom

where would i be without florida at

a houston’s in fort lauderdale twisting 

heads off spiny 

lobsters discovering my sexuality

in people 

magazines asking questions

are flamingos 

real is swimming in a sunshower

are nightfuls of crocodile 

leather iguanas on red tile

it’s alligators

stupid iguanas ride elevators

in the sawgrass 

mills mall half price tuesdays

half pepperoni at the rainforest

cafe when i grow up

i’ll have a wet bed

covered in bananas

lost at the flea market

in a bedazzled sea of black

dungarees riding the go karts

in publix grabbing every coupon

taking the 3 hour tour 

getting lost in tv land

with a half gallon of breyer’s

a sunburn that peels pink

as coconut scent

soap in the toilet

of a jai alai gambling

facility it's easy

as a cupped hand

empty as a pelican’s bill

 

to forget a language

the year of the rabbit

hung by a tendon

in its ankle

one outfit in a wardrobe

of mahogany meats

an unwashed cleaver

on a stump cum chopping block

the year of the rabbit

quartered and bathed

in chili

peanuts

fermented beans

swam in inky pools

of discreet recipe

the year of the rabbit

on a leash

paced nervously

on the sidewalk

beside fake jade bangles

and i phone cases

the year of the rabbit

returned its luck

with a broken friendship

an expired visa

a suitcase of cheap keepsakes

a letter of veiled threat from local government

an incense holder

shaped like two hands praying

the year of the rabbit 

sipped chrysanthemum tea

on the sun porch

overlooking the third ring freeway

morning meditation

to the traffic mantra

exhaust approached

fluency but never arrived

barefoot night hike through cowboy cologne

there was a tarantula on the wall

we sprayed with petrochemicals

and swatted with a broom

legs quaking

as it died

on the bed

where someone i love

held a teenage tantrum

as someone i love

tried to sedate him

saying his trauma wasn’t so bad

which is why

there’s bad blood

and radioactivity in the soil

decades after the fallout

the assault of invisibility

of bad teachers

who teach bad lessons

and the pain decays so slowly

or doesn’t at all

when to grieve

or when not to build a summer camp

next to a nuclear facility

when to fire toxic employees

with histories of bad behavior

like telling a child not to cry

when they’re hurt

or telling yourself

that clean nuclear is safe

while dipping your hands in uranium

and brushing them through your hair

and gathering rattlesnake skins

for bible study

while forgetting the poison

at the roots of desert willows

in the molten stones

which is why there’s bad blood

in my veins

or maybe i was born with it

blood disease

and genes are science

feelings are art

which is why

we need more funding for the humanities

samson's haircut

 

i remember woods

thick as baleen

and being swallowed

i remember the esophageal 

undulating road to sacket lake

i remember woods

full of hassids

i remember jews

in different chambers

of the heart

of the catskills

i remember sun bleeding

through trees

strobing tired eyes

pressed to the car window

i remember tosca

symphonies of leaves

recurring dreams

past lives in old countries

ugly ducklings

pretty ducklings

the provenance of memory

in senior living communities

dying comedians

i remember my father’s first congregation

i remember wood pews

wood arcs

wood handshakes

stained glass

closed caskets

wine stained trousers

i remember fasting

feeding fowl at the bridge on the creek

finding a twenty dollar bill

buying flavored honey sticks

suckling honey

slipping kippahs

dangling from the edge of hair

i reached my vulnerability threshold

 

i reached my vulnerability threshold

i learned a new term

i walked back and forth across my term

i opened and closed myself

my term moved

i judged myself for where my term moved

i defended myself against my judgement

i defended myself against the other side of my term

i entered the world vulnerably

i was loved

i was injured

i am on one side of my threshold

at the moment

i will wake up tomorrow

and find myself in the same place

or somewhere else

i will learn new terms

tomorrow is a new term

the passion of linus

the good good grief

of the cricket in my pantry

who sings for the dead battery

of the smoke alarm across the alley

should they ever meet

cross antennae

build a life together

the californian in me asks?

how astrologically would they fare?

a fire sign

and a cricket

the californian asks?

don't crickets have a season?

is this sustainable?

what's my season?

for stridulation?

to gently coo coo

somewhere between a broom and a mop bucket

lovesick in a bed of dust

one day i'm a welsh terrier

one day i’m a welsh terrier

with my head out the window

paws on the plastic ledge

drool to the wind

one day my window’s closed

i’m a dumb dog

i’m irritable

one day i’m a spider plant

in a vietnamese cafe

dangling new curls

above fragrant bowls of broth

one day i’m made of plastic

offgassing in the steam

one day i’m a library cart

i’m a well read fiction

i’m a cracked cd case

i’m overdue

one day my fees are forgiven

cruel intentions

let to wander

the aisles of a blockbuster video

a rush of empowerment

stealing glances at racy posters

entranced by the mystery

of sarah michelle gellar

the what-do-i-feel 

for ryan phillipe

 

it's hard to choose

a movie 

based on nothing

hard to process boundaries

of genre

hard to imagine watching a film

while reading a translation

hard not to want to laugh

to be thrilled

 

the only truth is

a jumble of junior mints

and movie butter microwave popcorn

could rescue any film

from impatience

and hormones

 

lost in the carpet desert

malaise of blue and white fatigue

a choice is made

something my brother has already seen

he will explain everything

before it happens

split ends

why park under a just pruned rubber tree

why let it bleed 

white mementos on your black accord 

why buzz your head in the sink 

why leave piles of hair

to sweep up

after the soccer game 

why dab magnesium paste

on the sores in your mouth 

why question

what you don’t want to understand 

like why

does dried rubber look

like bird shit

like why does hair itch

or why

a well played loss

or why

sunday afternoon sex on the couch

or why do i feel like a parent

without children

why desires

why waiting

why sex at your least beautiful

with someone who loves you

like sweeping split ends in the dust pan

like getting a car wash

before a big rain

like gleaming

i'm the camelia

i notice your denim skirt

black plasticky clogs

your hair tied up

as you lean over the recycling bin

we hold hands

on the 10 second walk home

our hands remember

the way

you make fun

i can't differentiate

a sweater from a sweatshirt

for that matter

many greens from many reds

flowers from flowers

the jokes don't hurt

your hand never anything but soft

i feel you smiling

and the scattered roses i spy

in the courtyard aren't roses

and they've always been there

even the one outside

our bedroom window 

i'm the camelia

you say 

 

 

atmospheric river

as i start the bacon

my mom puts a sliced roll in the toaster oven

but doesn't turn it on

she grabs a flashlight

and shines

as i lower the sump

into her flooded basement

i pull its hose 

hand under hand

as if climbing backwards

out the front door

into a home depot bucket

i toast the roll

i flip the bacon

i run outside and empty the first full bucket

down the driveway

slightly angled by request

toward the neighbor's yard

i butter the roll

i blot my bacon on a paper towel

i fry an egg and ketchup the top bun

i run outside for the second bucket

my mom's bacon is

nearly crispy enough

for her liking

though she claims for her safety

a mistake she commonly makes

as we eat

we chat about

chef driven movies

my dad's improved walking

the weak stream from the kitchen faucet

sylvia's mean children

the romance of gated communities

i empty bucket after bucket

but i have to leave

water slowly rising

in the orange

 

i don't want to go to san diego

i don't want to go to san diego because 

i find it boring and 

i think sea world

is a prison camp for orcas and

i lost my tan and

if its gray and rainy in san diego

what happens but

my best friend is there now

at a really lovely airbnb with

a comfy guest bedroom with

a kitchenette with

a microwave for me to do my hot compresses so

all the ducks are in a row and

i have the time to go and

the train to san diego stops near my house

i could walk there and

i could watch the bluffs of orange county

slide and crumble into the pacific from

my seat on the train but

i'd rather stay home

or do something else because

my best friend's mother-in-law lives nextdoor to his airbnb and

she has an ss tattoo on her face which

i hate and

which i hate also because 

it almost ruined my best friendship but

actually made us closer through conflict but

the one time i met my best friend's mother-in-law

she asked me to play her music which

i love to do but

makes me nervous because

i care so much and

i don't want to disappoint my father but

he wasn't there and

she asked me to play originals rather than covers which

i didn't feel safe to do given

her associations with hatred and so

i'd rather just avoid the whole city altogether

scattered showers

your aquarium attitude

lures me like no other plunger

your wispy bobs

and dainty flourishes

adrift on a sea of feathers

and sea bream leather

plush as a pond without leeches

washed up as the beaches

of aspiration

the submarine heroes

who give their meat

for less than lunch

but neigh

you're reeler than the horsefish

that click their spurs

on cellohead ferns

with all the chlorophyll and nacre

of a breathless symphony

could i play the gills

and crash my symbols

when a tree falls in the ocean

does the water clap

regardless of heard immunity

the tragedies of antiquity

love locked in your treasure

im purple as an urchin

to be marooned

with you

a small radio

a bowl of tangerines

the will to read fantasy

 

 

midrash

the onus of a mirror

to present an angle

at which i might hide the flaws

the follies 

of homeopathy gone wrong

is the burden of denial

sicker than the sickness

it tempts me 

like a bite of quince

and exiles me from myself

from her and them

without a hymn of sanctuary

and yes i fear

the styes

the rashes of shadows

when i'm alone

when i'm the red heifer

when i'm the talking ass

when i'm the plagues

when i'm a book

i don't know how to read

good night bomb cyclone

 

where do the herons go

where does the armenian grandmother

pour her tea

where do palm tree squirrels

cache their nuts

where does the octogenarian couple

wear wigs and hold hands

where does the pentecostal pomeranian go

where does the flooded freeway go

when saturated succulents shed limbs

and soft dates wrested from their perch

litter the empty walkway

outside the subaru dealership

at night

when the rain picks up again

when the sprinklers turn on

and the bellagio of ecological farce

climaxes

i turn off the white noise machine

please be a patient

 

authorization is not yet denied

i’m told

they need more time 

to decide if i deserve

a specialist

i empathize with they

so hard

deciding if people are sick

without ever seeing or speaking with

them

they need time

more time