everything feeds process

I am so behind on posting (and sending) these bad boys. I’m hoping to catch up over the next few days.

Give Me America Anytime

We have the best government
money can buy. We  are rich

in values we barely know, in exported
aspirations we mouth silently. Our wallets

are empty. Still we are flush
with the rush of purchase

We imagine peeling twenties off a pile
like peeling the skin

off of a banana. We have yet to understand
the value of buying

(our carts full of necessities)
with a currency made of air.

I am participating in the August Poetry Postcard Challenge this month. Each day, I send a new postcard with a poem on the back to a recipient on the group list.  We began on July 27, but I am posting these a few days late, so that my pen pal can see them first. Enjoy!

Sifting Millet

Seeds get stuck in my nails.
I find myself counting grains
to calm myself. I am baffled
by the sheer numbers. I think
of grain elevators dotting Iowa
filled to bursting with seeds this size.
I imagine fields that stretch
state line to state line, with stalks
that will be harvested and broken down
into seeds. I think of the thousands
in this bowl alone. How can I live
with all this abundance
and still spend so much time wanting?

Written in response to a postcard poem to me by Bobbie Ogletree.

I am participating in the August Poetry Postcard Challenge this month. Each day, I send a new postcard with a poem on the back to a recipient on the group list.  We began on July 27, but I am posting these a few days late, so that my pen pal can see them first. Enjoy!

On Working

Somewhere there is satisfaction
for something other than the close
of another interminable day.  There is

the sweat we carry in our skin, the stench
of our effort.  There is the heft
of the body, the tug of the line, the waking
from an hour long nap, only to find

that you hooked
a many toothed monster and he
is never getting away.

I am participating in the August Poetry Postcard Challenge this month. Each day, I send a new postcard with a poem on the back to a recipient on the group list.  We began on July 27, but I am posting these a few days late, so that my pen pal can see them first. Enjoy!

April Love Letter

I love your ridiculous. I love
your plastic molded flaws.
I love your obnoxious
colors, your fluorescent pinks
and pea greens. I love the prank
of you. You are the salt
in my coffee and the sugar
in my gas tank. I love
the surprise of finding you,
one morning, in the most
never thought of places.

I am participating in the August Poetry Postcard Challenge this month. Each day, I send a new postcard with a poem on the back to a recipient on the group list.  We began on July 27, but I am posting these a few days late, so that my pen pal can see them first. Enjoy!

The Woman I Wanted to Be

carefully picks tobacco leaves
from the tip of her tongue. She doesn’t care
that her nails are uneven and undone.
She wears black eyeshadow so often, residue
lingers on her naked lids. She doesn’ t work
behind a desk. Instead, she litters lines
of poetry on the floor of her studio,
knowing that no one will pick them up.

This is also in response to my Mindfulness Month exercise on the self-portrait as I want to be seen.

Please note: I’m a little behind on posting and writing, due to some increased workload at my day job. However, I hope to get back on track this week.

I am participating in the August Poetry Postcard Challenge this month. Each day, I send a new postcard with a poem on the back to a recipient on the group list.  We began on July 27, but I am posting these a few days late, so that my pen pal can see them first. Enjoy!

New Year’s Eve

The big man leaned
into me, winked
and asked:

“Can you keep a secret?”

I swallowed hard on my scotch
smiled wide
and prayed that I could.

I am participating in the August Poetry Postcard Challenge this month. Each day, I send a new postcard with a poem on the back to a recipient on the group list.  We began on July 27, but I am posting these a few days late, so that my pen pal can see them first. Enjoy!

In Some Places

We erase faces. Carve spaces
where noses and ears once rested.
We are not arrested. We are lifted
on shoulders, gifted with fat jewels
of praise. We are proud
of what we erase.
Even in the absence of features
we recognize
our small and disfigured victories.

- inspired by the August 9th cover of Time Magazine

Sent July 31

I am participating in the August Poetry Postcard Challenge this month. Each day, I send a new postcard with a poem on the back to a recipient on the group list.  We began on July 27, but I am posting these a few days late, so that my pen pal can see them first. Enjoy!

Free to Pass

(in response to a poetry postcard I received from Mary Ruth Donnelly)

The path you are on
lists to the left, is covered
in brambles and bends
into the dark. Even though
you are walking on familiar
ground, your feet slip easily
into well-worn grooves.

Never fear:
you are safe on your journey.

Sent July 31.

I am participating in the August Poetry Postcard Challenge this month. Each day, I send a new postcard with a poem on the back to a recipient on the group list.  We began on July 27, but I am posting these a few days late, so that my pen pal can see them first. Enjoy!

What I Know About Missing Sleep

I wake to a rounded world
where even my walk wobbles.

I weave around corners, careen
from moment to moment

without memory. I find myself
in a room I barely recognize

wondering how the world was wrapped
in cotton, without me ever knowing.

Sent July 29

After focusing on sensory awareness, I will be turning the focus towards personal awareness and mindfulness.

My husband really enjoys taking self-portraits. With his little cell phone camera, he has sent me pictures of him eating carrots, reading books, grading papers, and making funny faces. I, on the other hand, am not too wild about self-portraiture. I have a few pictures of myself that I like, but other than that, I discard most of the photos I take of myself.

For today’s exercise, I would like to create a self-portrait as I want to be seen by the world. The catch is that it doesn’t have to be a photograph. I can create a self-portrait in any medium I choose.  Hopefully, I can channel a little of my husband’s bravado.