woozy with blueness i fall backwards between
the earth and the stars and the nectar sweet sunset
appearing upon and within the top of my vision of
eternal internal sight.
and what right do i have to wander like this?
in limbo, my heart is fucking akimbo,
and traveling somewhere between joy and hell
on the depths of a swell of dizziness.
i sweep myself under the vast carpet of
mountains and blackness and burnished terrain,
and look for more.
heady and delicious, this restlessness is also a menace
for it is disruptive and fated and far-reaching too --
yes i am that menace for i am a flicker of fire
amidst this shallow hollow of apathy,
such cool gray stones even and round.
You finger the coins
inside your pocket
as you walk down the sidewalk,
change upon change,
shiny and new,
sensing a rhythm,
jangle a few,
bounce in your step,
seeing the future,
knowing that you
will never be you
Bygones be bygones,
you now know what's owe,
you let go the old,
you happily cry,
you smile inside,
and you nickel your life
I was an orange grove goddess
growing up, at 16,
on Carne Rd.
I would dance to made-up harmonica melodies
as I meandered through orchards,
sugary dirt between barefoot pedicured toes.
I kissed real and imaginary boys
among the unchartered waxy leaves;
we would weave in and out of the cool sweet shadows,
and the whitewashed trunks bejeweled with snails.
These summertime games of hide and seek
and unabashed innocence
would disappear one day
as I left my childhood behind
in those innumerable rows of
warmth and earth and youth.
But my Aphrodite dreams
will forever remain
budding, like the white-blossomed fragrance
of my orange grove intoxication,
shuddering and lingering still.