My Yard, My Body
She is an instrument,
split tree in my yard,
her center cracked and crinkled branches
falling outward, toward the carpet of blades,
green sprouting from the between tawny brown.
That old tree is a massive flower blooming,
and looking at her, at the yard before me,
knowing its lushness-to-be,
I feel my cold bare toes on the ground,
and think how what is mine is not mine
until I water it.
I was trying to teach at 8am and words kept becoming other words when I wrote them on the board and I said “god! a poem must just be bubbling out of me right now.” But I’m trying to be attentive and do my job when all I really want to do is sit alone in my room and write shit on my computer and not have it be judged.
My phone was cursed because I broke up with my boyfriend on the phone and it had hurtful words trapped in it. The sea monsters knew I didn’t have the courage to delete the messages and so they took matters into their own hands. My phone had things they wanted to sanitize, to kill. To cleanse you, they said.
I went to the sea because I was trying to appease the sea monsters who ate my phone. I went to the sea in the dark and for the first time ever, there was no one at the beach and it was dark. I got out of my car and felt scared. Maybe a murdering man lurked somewhere out there between me and the water. The world was vertigo. I couldn’t see where I stepped and every way seemed dark. I went toward the rushing sounds at the edge of everything. I saw a shipwreck, I saw an island, I saw a man standing. And then I walked through it all, a 6pm mirage made just for me.
Suddenly my feet were wet, so baptized like magic salt everywhere, through my socks, slipping between my toes. Darling, I am in constant awe of what’s to come. And looking back at the west where the sun had set two hours before, there was still golden light, soft but so bright I first believed it was headlights from some friend pulling into the parking lot. I ran toward it, boots clomping on the sand. “Light, come here, I cried. I want you!!” I wanted it to eat me up. I wanted to bathe in it. For once I was not afraid.
Cris Kraus told me “Desire is not lack. It’s surplus energy–a claustrophobia inside your skin.” What’s inside you? What are you chasing?
Listen here, the coffee’s brewed.
“Home sounds like the water in the shower my son is taking. It is the laughter and comfort of he and his brothers voices, musings and their lives winding and weaving away and then back again”
‘From the Lake’ by Georgia O’Keefe
Sun Prairie, Wisconsin
Check out the rest of the Sound-Bites project.