When we were we

When we were we,
and I was sweet and you were dear,
You held me real,
“My Love!” came buoying
from our simplest shining,
to have each other back again,
we the same and found
and to be tight and here and very,
to have the greatness of your hand
making promises so plain,
making each other okay.

You got me
like a joy that was too big for you to hold,
so you could only give it back.
It was hard to say what it was
except that it was
something wonderful.

(This is from when I saw Cliffy on February 8th and this is the poem that made my softness known and told myself it back again. That day was so beautiful).

Vacation

Sometimes the best part of going somewhere is coming home.
went with Joann to Marin, to West Marin, to San Domenico, to Robinson park where I learned to ride my bike, to my favorite church, and all over the baby. All the little lands. All the memories coming around me. Going over the hill to Woodacre. Going to the lockers of my high school. Going to the little bridge by Madrone where I was convinced I was needed to help people, where I'd leave little packages for homeless people at age 7 of food and tell them to find me if they needed help.

I got sad and crumpled last night, with my foot throbbing again. So worrisome for the tromping I had done to it.

Coming back today is the best thing. I am also coming home to myself more and more everyday.

I am listening to Ryan Adams again, and I play the line over and over again "I'm getting really cold and I'm looking at you -- but you're not moving" and the dive of his voice comes into this place that I know inside. It like goes on a ride with me.


Mono took me home this morning down 280 and highway 17. Their slow then sudden guitar and movement apexes calmed my zigzaggy 17 ride. helped me go along slowly and feel covered.

Now it is raining hard so I didn't go the bank. I blow-dried my hair all the way and took pictures of my bangs and recent yellow streak in my hair. I heated up the vegetables that Sarah made and sent me home with, so cilantro-ey and soothing. I was so happy to find my leftovers I made from Friday, Mango-Chutney Chicken and Rice.
I had the best meal in my house being all rained-upon.

Mortar

I have made myself alone
as I said I would,
I have begun reading the unfinished books
as I said I would,
I have taken myself down from the push.
I have stopped writing little notes to myself
to find my way out.
I have said the words I always knew aloud,
I have taken them out of my purse.

I thought it would be plain.
I thought the dirt I could taste would be in my hand
to rub around,
to soil the depleted places.

But a whole patch was taken out from me.
A place with bricks and mortar
I made with my spit and hands,
and little walls we made and left.

I have not yet started running.
To my country I miss so,
to the plants where I know tall stalks could grow.

For it’s not the gaps I miss,
it’s the thick and holding walls.

I am drooping,
looking down at the petals.
the petals I knew.

my lovely vacation

how gorgeous and grand to be on vacation (my first vacation since I started Metro in July 06).
Staying in Santa Cruz, listening to my new ipod--the most up to date advanced thing I've ever had.

I am listening to Iron and Wine, I am at my desk.
I am relaxed. It's a fine morning.

Last night at Saturn

It was good to talk with him at Saturn, a good friend. Rob asked questions and called things out. Nailing it. A feeling of bringing things to light. getting it.
Looking at it from outside.
And more of me at peace.

Still I think on sweeter moments.

oh

oh sad and sad.
our special love.
no balloons or what to hold or what to let in air and where does it go...
couldn't i be sad but have the balloon still?
AT least now, i have this full love. and it's like a return. I really loved him at the core. i have a polaroid of me playing the piano and him on my side with a big lucky grin. He looks All stoked and dandy in a mischief kind of way.
it's a realy sweet photo.
I recently found a lift these last couple days. after crying myself through the weekend. feeling back in myself.
I even felt sort of ok these last couple days. but still everyday i have a landslide of remembering. And the moments recent that were so precious when we saw each other again.

And in Monday Poetry group another poem was born, and i like to hold on to it, like a like to hold on to that somewhere between us. and the life that we made for each other.