Anxious ambivalent

 

I did it again. How embarrassing.

 

She says, there's a scientific explanation for this 

Belly full of oxytocin  

What happens if I un-check Scandinavian 

Refreshing the Notes app 

I feel so much better when I'm open

Blueberries in seltzer water

How to stay here?

 

 

Step back to / step up 

People are most important 

 

Miss my girlfriends 

I've slipped back into austerity 

 

Concrete Cowboy

I'm strong enough to be here

Even though I zippered my

I finally know forgiveness is for me

 

It's time to move on

Oh yes, that will be so beautiful

 

GOD LOC LOVE ELLIOTT

 

 

There are freaking rules in the mansion

 

 

I sit in the driveway, feet kicked up on a tempered glass table, a hard seltzer on it, reading 

He walruses seltzer bottles, giggling 

I whiff it 

 

I don't turn on my video 

I will not be volunteered.

 

Hanna is laser focused. There are treats afoot 

He sets up the shot and she nails it, jaw snapping

Should we go get boba? 

Right now? 

Yeah. 

No. 

 

The rug looks so cosmic. 

I am a woman in need of a chimney sweep 

We should respond to that, I guess 

I haven't played yet today 

Should I buy the runner rug or should I not buy the runner rug 

deliberating as if it matters 

There are people falling from planes in Afghanistan.

Are human hearts meant to be broken every day

Biking across the bridge smiling and the Amish man glared at me, my skintight shorts exposing every bone every taut bit of flesh in my knees. I don't know what he was thinking. I only know that he didn't smile back. I only know that he looked at my knees and his brow furrowed. Maybe he had a bad experience with a knee in the past. 

 

The bottle cap in want of a bottle. Or glad to be free of it

The little metal speaker invites expansion and contraction 

The spiky green cactus is burgeoning 

It wasn't great, but it was good 

 

She thought she'd found love and had to call the cops

When will we stop destroying each other

 

Gasoline danger!

 

 

So when I get a little grumpy 

I'm a Level 13 enthusiast 

Daisy is looking for her furever home 

The coffee is tepid. I drink it down 

doesn't want to read writing. doesn't want to hang paintings on the walls. fair enough, the paintings aren't very good. I frame the mountain and place it on top of the dresser

Not looking for pity. Perhaps somewhere a knight quests for it.  

Pity! Wherefore art thou?! 

My mom texts other people support 

K warned me I'd regress 

 

It's 73 degrees and cloudy 

My butt bones hurt 

Good long ride under the canopy 

I know your attachment style 

Maybe my doubt is on to something

You should say, those feelings are still valid

 

 

Stay cool

 

 

21 to go 

You'll be shearing the burn fields

He's planting more Doug firs. He's letting grass grow longer 

There's no new generation of christmas tree farmers

It's a big gamble. Maybe you'll think I'm ugly or too loud

That plant is staying alive through my own force of will. I will not give up on it

Fish see me and swarm, snack time

The seltzer bottle sits blue-pink empty on the coffee table 

I remember going to that house party, some kind of celebration beneath a possibly-burning tree. Who was I with when I ate the old cookie. Lights moved on trees in summertime. Walked home early morning alone. I'm glad I don't drink so much any more 

He swaddles himself in blue

I brought him home and then acted surprised. Same for him, and him, and him 

You'd think I'd learn 

 

Wish we could go to Leadville tomorrow 

Oh come, let's not be dramatic 

 

I tried to hang the birdhouse today. The strap broke and now the black hook won't fit through the metal. Now who knows when it will happen 

The farmer says, you wouldn't work the same job for years without a salary increase

I tell him, you deserve some pleasure and some fun 

It's hard to seem young without drinking

I pour bourbon from the high cupboard, for personal reasons

If only I hadn't rolled all those sevens. I'm so different now from how I used to be  

It's getting harder again

For a few months there he edited the literary magazine 

I will never use the central vacuum

 

 

That was a clinic. 

Gray-beige blue poufs 

Kindness rules 

 

I miss the brick and the wood 

I feel like I'd remember that 

I'd forgotten what it is to practice. Feels good 

 

The grass still stretches tall but the garage is so clear

If it weren't for all the childhood memories 

That was nice of her

 

They're embarrassing themselves. They're trying their best

Fuck do my toes hurt 

They're not actually crying 

That's what you do for the people you love 

 

 Stack the gloves, tools clink into the basket

 The blanket you used to lie on

Help me move this file cabinet

 

Maybe I'll eat some ice cream 

The avocado boba is gonna be okay 

In the woods the bugs swarm my eyes 

I wear sunglasses at dusk and become superhuman 

 

 That's not how squirrels behave

Dried flowers so pretty 

 

 

He trips water videos 

They created trash to make fake trash to mimic real trash 

The underwriter is perturbed. He's a big softie 

I'm really exhausted of all of them 

 

Do you wanna watch a Lego Masters? 

Maybe we should go upstairs 

The soft teal wires contour my back and thighs  

They're [I can't even say it]

Dang homie 

 

Mango + mint

 

 

It's real. 

Plaid blankets and white sheets 

Eating kale chips and red wine 

Since when do tweens wear that 

I have never been so annoyed by a child in my life 

 

The Diamond Lake

Too hot 

My dad doesn't want to play golf with me 

At least the steak was good 

4 is the number. Always 3, or 5, or 7. It's ing me

Do not apply to mucus membranes 

Have you seen Thelma & Louise

I still haven't assembled the file cabinet 

Missing family potlucks 

Picnic tables

It's not like me to 

When the wood shortage hit I gathered hay and shipped the sheep  

Neurosis and lake loons 

In Maine listening 

Through the bog I steered the canoe. Cupping blueberries

Please don't make me think it's never gonna happen 

She's one of the world's greatest horn players 

I can bike there. Through the farmland 

I still haven't folded the laundry 

Twisting cellophane veins 

Mustard blanket drapes like water 

Gray textured pillowcase

I want to surrender to you 

It's a sign of maturity 

It's true about the guinea pigs 

 

 

Am I taking too much space

I graduate in five hours 

 

There's less to remember when you don't go outside

I was moving so fast but I wasn't accelerated

Are you awake?

 Ah fuck, they're playing catch

 

Mother wound

 

 

The energy healer wears Uggs and shivers on the sand. 

Tonight they will burn an effigy the size of a small apartment. 

 

Tonight the sky darkens. Somewhere in the distance, thunder. 

I suppose I won't be mowing the lawn after all. 

I suppose the fish might need to eat dinner late. 

I suppose it's complicated. 

Are you tired of it being complicated? 

The gnome will not stop looking at me. 

One of these days I might take the metal shovel to his thin, white, ceramic skull. 

I have so many friends here! 

I make the penis joke and his eyes light up. Yes, there are penis jokes inside of me. 

Kept hidden, like so much else. Picky

and unbothered

Drive safe my darling 

Fingers find their way 

dancing in the living room 

music loud enough to drown the thunder

 

 

 

Rocks

 

 

At least I'm eating again. I don't sleep, not until 3 am, then the alarm rising out of the darkness at 8. I dress, pour coffee, sit in the car and drive to the farm, beautiful. All those years and I took it for granted. The chain blocks momentum; I piss squatting over the porta potty. We will go to the waterfall after we've hiked to the tops of the rock cliffs and I've scuttled hands-to-boulders out to the edge, stomach flipping look-down hundreds of feet oooo! Wet bird hitches wings wide to the sun, twirling to catch the light. Take your time; I'll leave you be. Sips from rock puddles, eyes me. The descent, cobwebs swaddle the wet skin of my arms, my stomach, my ear, my chin. A fly slams into a web. The spider darts forward, spears. Slinks backward. Waits. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When the thunder comes

 

 

When the thunder comes, Hanna does too, black tail tucked, drops to the floor under the pale wooden desk. I drop too, slide under the desk to my stomach, stroking her, whispering. This is your home. You're safe inside. From his hiding spot under the guest room bed, Wilson hears us. He slinks up the hall to the office door, belly low to the gray floor. It's four feet to the desk and he's scared. I coax him. You're okay. You can do it. He runs to us. I place one palm on Hanna's thick body and curl one arm around Wilson's tiny orange frame. I fold my body inside the desk's legs—a wall on two sides. They lie together inside the wall, ears perked, eyes wide. Together, we listen to the thunder. We practice being brave. We keep each other safe. 

 

 

This church is prayer-conditioned

 

Exclamation point. 

 

Money Penny grows green, green, taller

 

Wilson eyes down the vent. 

The little teal lamp deserves a place to shine.

 

Bowls pile up on the desk next to mugs piling up on the desk

Yeah, yeah. I'll wash them. 

 

My fingers have flown through the beginner books and I need to go to the store for intermediate. Need to hang the bird boxes. Need to hang the bee box. Need to convert grass to native beds. Need to find the leak in the pond and fix it. Need to adopt more fish and frogs for the pond. Need to make sure the new fish and frogs don't harm the existing fish, such survivors. Need to grout the corner of the shower. Or is it caulk. Need to caulk something else. Or is it grout. Need to fix the leak under the sink. Need to re-grade the small strip of back yard that lets water stand by the foundation. Need to fix the laundry duct. Need to further extend the gutter extenders. Need to organize the garage. Need to mop the bathroom floor. Need to sign the PDF and let the tree guy know he can cut down the Sassafras, I don't want him to, she's sick. Need to stop Hanna from eating Wilson's poop. Need to figure out why the swamp milkweed isn't thriving. Need to plant more echinacea beside the existing echinacea. Need to assemble the compost bin and designate a composting system. Need to dig lines for the tiered beds and add a drainage pipe. Need to remove the forsythia; replace with natives. Need to tame the forsythia in the meantime. Need to dig up and remove all bush honeysuckle from the property, that nasty invasive taking over, ruthlessly. Need to weed the front bed. Need to water the air plants, a couple weeks overdue for their weekly soak. Need to remove the shrinking white flower buds from the yellow pitcher. Need to fold the clean laundry, sitting in the clean laundry basket. Need to carry the laundry hamper back upstairs from the basement and place it in the bedroom closet instead of tossing dirty laundry on the floor. Need to charge my phone. Need to start Hanna's new medication. Need to diagnose the succulent rot. Need to get my singing voice back into shape. Need to edit that novel. Need to write more poetry again. Need to paint the edges of my painting so it hangs prettier. Maybe teal. Maybe orange? 

Need and also get.

 

First, I will express my sadness and hurt. I will command my freedom. 

Then I will play the keyboard. I will take another bite out of those fresh rolls. I will think about you and wonder if you're thinking about me. I will take off all my clothes and wash the sweat from my body, long run in 93-degree heat

 

Pret-a-Powder

 

Salutations! 

 

I didn't know that kind of product existed. 

Pink jackrabbits hop toward purple-green explosions. 

 

Get rid of articles it will sound better. Get rid of adverbs it will read better. Get rid of superlatives it will sound truer. Get rid of it.

I am making a home for myself and I will not be deterred. I've never had one before. There are wild flowers on the wall and I sing Wildflowers in the shower and I carry flowers inside by the armful and plop them into big wide open-mouthed vases.

I stay in the shower even after I've rinsed the conditioner from my hair and I sing and I sing and I sing.

 I play the keyboard in Strings. I'm reading a book again.  

Permalink published on location options 

My location has changed. 

Never thought I'd leave the mountains, my home. Only for this verdancy, this bounty, also my home. Born from it. Like native ferns unfurling out of this earth. The trees cradle us in their shadow. 

I sit on the calls it's not me. I say the words it's not me. I tell myself duty, duty, duty. Who says?

I am tired of living within so many rules. That's not who I am, or was, or was meant to be. 

I had many friends there, yes. Here, I have so many people who would take me into their homes. Grateful for it.

big fireball of gratitude and yearning 

My desire pours over.

Please. I'm so