That's kombucha for ya

 

Balsamic dressing on the thigh of my gray sweatpants

Cooking and ceremony 

This has been the year of transformation, but not in the ways I'd expected 

A lot has come to light

Things are not as I thought they were or would be 

What I do with that information is up to me 

It begins with being honest 

What tins are in here? 

Are you thinking of me? 

Our friends are growing up 

They have allowed each other to evolve and I should, maybe, do the same 

I should stop doubting that my feelings have a reason for existing 

Am I the only one who remembers what we used to be like? Do I assign too much weight to it? 

Not gospel, but data 

Eating a banana on new year's eve

New year's day hike, then bonfire 

Soon enough I will no longer be biologically capable of having children 

It's time for a reckoning 

Across the gulfs of grief 

What do you need to burn? 

It's time to make biscuits 

old-school hydrogen

 

Did you put some silk in here? 

Should I message you 

A marathon, not a sprint 

Oh how I miss skiing the backcountry, along those train tracks in the valley, beneath the great red rock 

A question posed: Do I return? 

We can't go back 

How do you want to move forward 

I feel like I'm withering here 

A trip to the Adirondacks cancelled 

A back once again seized with pain 

Two industrial boxes of pads 

Wanting to run away with you 

Wanting to run away 

Please know that I am not this way with anyone else 

The yearning, I can't stand it 

I need the snow, the expanse, the climb and the rush 

It's feeling so heavy 

That has never been right 

My past, I worked so hard to move away from it 

Would you go adventuring with me? 

I needed to come back here to see 

My parents cannot love me 

I have been dishonest with myself

I have struggled more than I ever cared to share 

He is devoted to the cat 

Releasing allows space for a new breath and a new future 

I'm beginning to embrace the more delicate songs 

Maybe I don't need to rage all the time 

I don't want the trappings 

I want the joy 

Come on you looney toon, get in 

Giving, receiving

 

Sorry, I didn't see it there 

On a trail run exploring new paths 

Electrocuted 

On my knees by the roadside 

All seized up

Moaning in the Subaru's passenger seat in the city parking lot 

He fetches salad, plain yogurt, sauerkraut, sirloin steak 

A piece of turmeric-infused CBD chocolate 

Here, hold my ankles 

Swing my legs slowly onto the driveway 

A flash of my grandmother

I know we're supposed to say wheelchair user now, but she was wheelchair bound 

Wanting to speak so badly 

Cursing in her final days 

A fire in her 

Twenty-thousand in the stadium where I used to live 

Riding the subway home late-night, all high and twinkly lights 

Friends dropping acid while I threw up in the bedroom

Twice every twelve years or so 

Wow. There it goes

Waiting to eat the cauliflower salad 

Once again unable to dance 

I don't know if I have it in me to start over 

I got really frustrated and I gave up 

I have heard rumors all over town

 

Loud sounds and bright lights 

A wolf on his tummy 

We're an evergreen family 

Mom wants Botox and a Samsung watch 

Dad isn't really talking any more 

Once again my brother has flown nine thousand miles away 

We have been so uncareful with each other 

I have given shelter to his bad habits and they have grown on me like fleas 

I don't know if I will be able to speak freely again 

I have tried and tried and tried 

Loneliness is less confusing 

Is it rolling? 

I said I'd only do what's necessary 

Like a bat out of the chimney 

Resting weary wings on shiplap 

I don't know if I want to be here 

I don't know if I want this work or this house or this place or these feelings 

Is this what growing older feels like? 

Constriction and doubt 

Of course I miss it 

Lying across that bed upstairs 

Hunter-green skirt 

Black t-shirt 

What kind of shoes did I wear then? 

Remember when I went to West Virginia? 

Of course I miss them--the mountains 

What's the distinction between running toward and running away? 

It's time for a reckoning 

He has left his wife and entered the conference room holding hands with another woman, maybe 

Is anybody certain? 

A big red arc across the globe 

Orion bright above the hickories 

One more night 

All that I can do's what I can*

 

Trying to cinch it

Leather girth redolent of horse sweat

Smoking in the city 

I used to have a high tolerance

Sitting on the living room rug

Vodka from the bottle 

I used to absorb so much suffering 

Stalled out in the darkened subway

Hand clenched on an overhead strap 

Taking it 

Walking around with shoulders up to my ears

Muscles en garde 

Wanting a savior 

Unsettled and undecided 

I used to be so much less afraid of feeling 

*Sharon Van Etten 

Type A Lamp

 

Pink and blue swirl into a Buddha on a black background

The elder teachers do not know how to speak to the trans child 

She, so young, is leading the way 

Good friend sleeping down the hall 

He tugged on my license 

Palm fronds peeking 

A small mustard lamp in the shape of a figure-eight 

Secondhand aspirations 

A tick has gorged itself on Hanna 

Too bloated to waddle across the rug 

I cradle it in toilet paper, drown it in a small jar of isopropyl alcohol 

A rare moment without mercy 

At the city green space they charged us $8 to park 

Still we walked the green paths, desperate for them 

Outsideness is relative 

Rattlesnake territory 

Tired and sad 

Sick of working 

I want my healing to matter too 

I am trying to hear myself instead of always telling me I'm wrong 

We are talking more and more often now, have you noticed? 

I miss so much 

I am tired of balls; I am tired of courts 

Nine more days til rest 

Come on June you can do it 

I'm sorry I didn't text you back 

So many cobwebs in need of dusting

Where pain lives

 

 

I guess this is it 

A 1971 French documentary film

Sleeping alone on a queen-size mattress

Wildness inside me 

 

How many times have I sat here listening and yearning 

Is the yearning the point? 

Or the directive

I think it's unreasonable to think it's too late 

Life is just so much vaster than that 

I've heard so many stories 

We are a different kind of young 

Lie down

Head draped off the mattress

Climbing on top 

Like this, and this, and this

I guess this is it 

White chili with corn and green peppers 

A mug of red wine 

Plain, whole-milk yogurt with cinnamon and honey

Easter egg

 

This is armor 

This is a fire inside me 

I've been victimized, yes 

I've been predated 

Here I am, not a carcass

Not a lifetime's serving of meat 

Not in need of defending, as a finite resource 

I am tired of being hoarded 

 

I never asked to be shielded

I asked to be seen

Fairy tale

 

Do you think I didn't exist before you 

Think I was goody two-shoeing until you came along 

That's a story I told myself and other people 

In truth I was practically feral 

Loaded and climbing trees 

Sleeping it off in the grass during Trey's late-night set 

Giggling in a tent 

Basement sex followed by third-floor sex etc. 

All those dubstep parties 

I don't think partying makes you cool 

My point is I've done more than has been acknowledged 

My point is I knew what I was doing 

My point is I'm not a princess in a high stone tower 

Do you think you're as good as you've wanted people to think you to be? 

Kindness doesn't arise from fear 

I've pretended for a while now 

I'm still stitching the stories together 

Let go of my motherfucking hair 

Golden pillow

 

The magical man appears dressed in white on a bike 

The magical man appears dressed in black and walking his dog 

I am not a koala 

The outdoor halls have been decked

Roping and white lights around the garage, the front door 

A small concolor fir staked in the front yard, sparkling white lights on it 

Soon my friend's kids and I will make peanut-butter-covered pinecones, dried orange slices, strings of cranberry and popcorn 

The squirrels will feast 

Each winter, so far, a flock of robins descends on the small pond in the backyard 

Each spring, they peck the grassy hillside alone or in pairs 

A single starling pecks amongst them 

Perhaps they lost their flock 

Perhaps they preferred the peacefulness of the robins to the wartime maneuverings of starling hordes 

Perhaps they yearn for a red breast 

I want two breasts and two legs 

I have eaten the chicken salad 

I am snuggling with Hanna on the couch 

She is tired from days of hiking 

I am collecting small prints of animals, each with a brave, just heart 

 

One of the most mind-blowing encounters of my life 

Love is behavior

 

It's a whole vibe 

Ten miles in the woods, boots in the dirt 

Memory: log-stone formation by a creek 

Bottom of the gulley 

Story-sharing 

Light filtered through deciduous leaves

Memory: skinny dipping below the blueberry farm 

Shy in creek-soaked underwear 

Exposure: women who comfortably inhabit their bodies 

Birch logs crackling 

The pumpkins have passed their prime 

The green shoulders may impart an off flavor 

That one's moldy; that one's weird 

I chopped quite a lot of vegetables 

Rock-hopping in the creek 

I've climbed for miles

Stripped off my clothes in mountain winds

Stepped white-naked and goose-bumped into alpine lakes 

It's funky, but I dig it

Tomorrow will we go antiquing? 

It's supposed to rain. We might not hang the roping. 

Drinking malbec from a gray coffee mug 

Broccoli and cauliflower dipped in hummus 

Chips and various dips  

In Greece I ate nothing but tzatziki and spinach pies 

In Guatemala I ate orange papaya and swapped regrets with friends

In Vienna I found a castle and palatial gardens behind a modest brick wall 

In Ireland I walked alone by the roadside and befriended two horses on the edge of a vast green pasture 

In Germany I went to the museum and I cried 

We met at the museum in Pittsburg and I listened to The Weepies the whole way home 

Last time I saw him was in a strappy blank tank top and black capri sweatpants 

We wore short shorts on the edge of the canyon 

Last time I saw her I gave her a gift that I thought she'd love and I told her I loved her 

Last time I saw her? When she invited him too 

The colorful balls rest contained and unattended on the coffee table 

I want to see you again 

Hanna's still doing it 

Soon it will be time to swab my eyelashes again

Next time I'll circumnavigate the lake 

Prescription: spend two and a half hours hiking beside a river 

Make it a wide, slow, shining one 

31

 

This is it 

I think I'm so clever 

Don't fall back under the spell 

White high-top Hanes

A mug with a christmas tree on it 

On paper you are unsurveilled and unpoliced 

Do you remember what that feels like? 

Cosmic encounters 

A card with a baby on it 

An orange stroller filled with babies 

Beside them I am walking with the dog 

Vacuuming the bedroom rug, bottomless in a grey sweatshirt 

Hiking through the bare-branched woods, peeing off a rock in them 

Buzzard dives then perches, wings wide open 

The absence of black bars titillates 

I went through a phase where I didn't wear underwear

What was that like? 

It had its pros and cons

It kept me remembering my aliveness 

Fingers up a long black skirt 

On a dark stone bridge in Cordoba 

River sloshing 

Fuck off with your red lines 

Remember when you said you never got to 

It turned me on 

I folded

Cold moon

 

Stop overriding me

Confident enough not to 

Stained old comforter 

Palm leaves green on one side of the pane

Foggy bare limbs on the other side of the glass 

Still haven't bought curtains 

You are not privy to a lot of my dating life 

Kissed dozens and dozens 

Danced so many strangers pressed to the wall

A lifetime ago 

I don't track my life by a child's aging, but by my own 

Something has changed inside of me 

No longer willing this exposure 

I love you and 

Even without the past 

I cannot be treated this way 

Long bangs obscure my brows 

Like two eyelids squeezed against a sandstorm, I close up 

Tonight = an occultation 

Have I ever given myself to feeling like this before? 

Nine days pass, a zombie 

Wake up to find myself carrying conversation 

Quiet stream in the darkened passenger seat

I have a congenital defect

I used to think she could change them 

I did. But at great cost 

Time to hydrate my eyelashes 

I bought three bottles of wine for 42 dollars 

The cashier did not wish to speak 

Because I am rebuilding my legs hurt every day 

Making space for myself 

Pink mountain rising from the mist 

For two hours I remembered what it felt like to be dazzling 

Just a glint of it 

Earworm

 

This was delightful 

Roasted yams and turnips and chickpeas, gluten-free chocolate chip cookies, dark chocolate nonpareils, peppermint tea, a ball jar half filled with tap water 

Remnant of glial tissue 

I showed up as my thirty-five-year-old self and he liked me

The conversation we had is so different from the conversations I used to have

And also not

Perhaps the difference is not one of subject matter or tone but of groundedness and perspective 

And also I am reminded of talking to the beautiful Brazilian man on the streets of Cordoba, taking him into my mouth on the stairwell of a hostel in Madrid

Walking out of the water as he returned with the towels 

Sometimes I feel sad that I will never be able to go back, but I am also curious about where I am now and where I might be going, places I've never been 

I am so glad to have grown up in a time when smartphones and CCTV weren't ubiquitous 

The newspaper has a list of craft fairs online