For Brandon, in spring

In my dream you
walked in
confident and alive.
We had a long hug,
your strong frame
solid and familiar
beneath me.

It had all been a hoax
but you knew now
how real our love was,
no apologies just
your true
spirit of abundance
radiating around the room.

It was so absolutely real
your aliveness
and we hug again,
you flop down on the bed,
Hilary's high school one,
with the white shelves,
buoyant and relaxed,
and I see that
life is never really
as it seems --

your dark river of hair
and resonant voice,
the way you love
the world
love us
sing us through
another season,
soften across the shoulders,
choose to stay.

Where I’m From

I am from street lamps and

sidewalks, a snake of brake lights

winding slowly down the 110,

red sun electrifies smogged sky,

a silhouette of skyscrapers,

grass protruding from cement.

I am from show tunes and hip hop,

turntables and Chaînés

jazz hands and bass,

speakers the size of sedans,

my body pressed

against the vibration.

I am from palm trees and chaos,

swimming pools and siblings,

popsicles and Alta Dena Dairy,

nonfat and cold,

left on the front step.

I am from earthquakes and oceans,

an incessant tremble at our core,

rhythm of everything

beyond the man-made,

beyond control.

Done

I am done scooping goldfish
into tiny tupperware containers
looking for matching blue lids
rinsing lunchboxes and
matching socks.

Done tapdancing for rooms full
of children, making up catchy ways
to remember the difference between
verbs and nouns,
the importance of topic sentences,
transitions and capital letters.

Done with piles of laundry and
thinking about what meat to
pull from the freezer for dinner.
Piles of papers to grade,
thoughtful comments,
kind but firm.
Done with the clarity of my to-do's,
the surrender to details. 
Absolute exhaustion. 

Pull me through these next two weeks.

sunday night

spring sunday

spring is breath and light
swift shifts
unexpected triumphs
and dark, cold rains

one bitteroot pokes her pink flair
from tan earth
the clouds transform
suck me in
I stop again and again
on the trail
try to remember it all

eliana said tonight
I wish we had the power
to transform skin colors
so sometimes I could have dark skin
and rainbow hair
and boys could be girls

spring gives transformative energy
we can be anything
solomon strums his guitar
can riff on a strip of paper
upturned chair
hardback book
he blows the dandelion head
notices everything

our energy is only sustained
by how tremendous they are
and just when I think I can't do
another damn thing
another unexpected shift
and the blood flows back
I bend down and pick up
another wooden block
another lost sock
another piece of creation
or collection

our creations surround us
how green and full
how sad and real
morty is raising his hands
losing it in all the wrong ways
the young aide at the home
is exasperated, hit,
his blood and shit part of her
ridiculous day
and all I see is the photograph on
our wall, how handsome and tall
he was in his uniform,
Windy Winnie's sultry frame
scratched on the body of a plane
I see his intelligence and integrity
in my husband
how hard he works
his commitment and focus
his eternal quest for answers
and fiery adoration

we hold each other tightly
these days
worlds shift all around us
storms suck up small towns
we meet equal points
peril and pleasure
fear children too close
to high water
choose anyway the cabin
alongside the creek
pump water like primatives
the laughter of our friends
boys and girls
their imaginations extra alive

in the wild
everything aches with presence

Me:  Eliana, I love how excited you always are to take trips.

Eliana:  That's how I'm like you, mama.  We're not the same in size, we're not the same in color, but we're the same on the inside.  And that's all that matters.

I love that child.  I do. 

mama's day eve

Mama’s Day Eve 2013

Her marker’s almost run dry, girls with curls in triangular skirts,

blue balloons on long, red strings.

She pauses to take a wet bite of pear, the juice

sticky on her hands, then rubbed into the wooden chair back.

She’ll be six soon.  The May clouds surreal in their perfection,

green of leaves twinkle softly in late afternoon sun,

shadows and light, their gentle shift.

Last night our oldest buddy sat in this chair, his girl beside him.

They told us their plans of building a new life in a new town,

of housing prices and recreation opportunities. 

We made our way through the wine, our laughter growing louder,

the bass keeping us young, the children asleep

down the hall.

“This is one fat, red heart I’m drawing, Mama.  It’s for you, but don’t look!”

We leave glasses and plates, shards of baguette and oil thick with garlic,

our neglect of the kitchen a small, unifying rebellion

and move slowly towards the bedroom, the lines more pronounced beneath our eyes.

I dreamed about this moment:

Writing poems in my book, my girl across the table drawing away,

Joni Mitchell croons her raspy range through the radio,

The breeze easy through the open door.

“I know what a person who makes books is called:  a journalist.  I’m gonna draw one of those flowers that you taught me, Mama.”

I pour myself more pinot, watch the way they watch each other.

They haven’t spent more than eleven consecutive days together.

She's beautiful.  He smiles coyly and calls her mi amor.  

I drift in and out of memory, nothing but boxes of books packed in an old car,
how young we were, with nothing to lose.

I remember the bend outside Rock Creek, my first sight of

the Sapphires, the swift moving creek.

what three looks like

The sun sets over this gorgeous valley and I settle into my first quiet of the day.  Work is full and nutty this time of year, the heat riling children up in new and wild ways, my job more like tap-dancing and pleading than teaching.  Anything for some quiet.  Anything.

My children seem to have the same spring thang.  With temperatures close to eighty here today, everyone is wildly giddy.  Eliana just seems to touch and talk about everything in her path.  She's all about doing it herself right now which can be really, really awesome (like when I find her in the kitchen fixing snack plates for her and her brother) or really, really annoying (like when she insists on pulling out her clothes by herself and in climbing the closet shelves ends up dumping the whole lot of freshly folded duds on the floor).  Solomon continues to be non-stop motion.  He had his three year check up today and managed to stand on my thighs (straight up, mind you) three times during the visit.  Dr. Judy smiled and talked about how agile and physical he is, how I handle him so well.  That's all I've known from him.  I feel like Dr. J and I have been having the exact same conversation about him each time since he's been about six months old.  He's always sweet and personable and moving like a mo-fo.  He climbed up on to the examination table on his own, put his little hands behind his head and splayed his little body out like a rock star poolside.  Dr. Judy and I exchanged a lot of smiling glances while Soli showed off how rad he is at three.  Awesome.

......

And my quiet reverie was very rudely and abruptly interrupted by two little chickens leaving their rooms, claiming hunger, demanding toast at which point I realize that the trash is sort of stinky, lift it from the can, and the bag bursts all over the floor of what was, finally, a clean kitchen.  Which turns into sweeping and sifting and then there are no more bags and I'm covered in coffee grounds and grime and need to take a shower and the kids are hustled back into bed by dad.  Now, half an exhausting hour and one lovely shower later, I don't have my same mojo to write.

Which is kinda how I feel a lot of the time right now.  I choose to have Solomon in May because it's always the toughest month to teach.  I kept waiting this weekend to have the energy to blog about Sol, to get an awesome picture, to capture that essential moment.  But the moments just kept flowing and going, one into the other like wildfire, no time to stop and reflect because at the end of it all, I'm just sort of done by the time the get in bed.  That said, I did manage to finally upload a bunch of pictures from my camera on to the computer and there is some great stuff. 

It's been a heck of a ride these past few months. We've blasted into spring, said goodbye and hello to dad, dressed up,  paraded through town, hiked the "M", eaten too much sushi.  We've rocked some really awesome bedhead, rocked harder on little guitars, had cake and ice-cream and stayed up way to late on our third birthday.  We've yelled and sighed and cursed and laughed and danced to, "Footloose" (you've gotta see the way Soli air-guitars those opening bars...).  We are these wild moments.