Amusing

Little one, if you could only see
the other birds who’ve visited
your nest. The bright, the colorful,
the warmth left to welcome you.

The world’s a pot of boiling water,
said the monk. Don’t be the carrot,
nor the egg. Be tea leaves. Yes, you
will be changed, but you will infuse.

 

People either bear pressure
or friction, seek a buffer or
contact to get feedback.
Choose. It comes regardless.

When she sings, it’s as if to three audiences:
the one sitting in front of her, the one
whose songbook she won’t let fade,
and one yet to be, having embraced the others. 

Chalked-up sidewalks
Stride piano windows
Cookout chip smoke
July: nouns sans verbs.

To answer her question:
unflagging matriarchs
magical realism, short-form,
team sports, and luck.

To take you apart is
to get you spinning
’round yourself once
more. My turntable.

Pool time, lil one
We wait on you,
wait for you, and
with you, weightless.

 

Ides of July
Odes I owe
Fingers fly
Hit my quo.

I can still see my mother’s
first kitchen — it could fit within
her current countertop’s edges.
Creativity will fill any vessel.