is this a poem or the release of a full bladder
after several long bouts of intoxication?

the pressure builds
the feeling is urgent, i catch myself running
to sit, split my mouth and let the confetti fly out

confetti this time, really?
one comes to expect the soft toulle of a garment
or waves like an ocean
perhaps music
i always hope for a little music

it funnies me too
the shades that emerge
in the splinters of glitter
blue then green then something i've never seen before
something that either scares me or draws me in closerrrr
it's always a fine line
a thin gloss
a look then a turn
a wink then a high tail

it's not that i don't trust you, dear friend
you and i know better than that
we've shared the same skin
the same heart
the same passion and pulse
it's been exciting, blessed be it is true
it's just the surprises that exist behind every corner
the surprises that kick scream jump
behind
every
corner

like this one
this small moment of reflection, of expansive sight
is a surprise
i sit now in my helicopter hovering
my bubble for one floating high in the sky
catching light on my glassy globe
marveling at its fancy
making love to the blue
cooing like a kitten
looking & seeing so far
in so many directions

and maybe it's not a surprise
these soft times, they come at the same time every year
every season, every hour
like the autumnal part of the day when the wind quiets
and the leaves drop
and you walk with no rush admiring each fallen gem
remembering its life
before trying to figure out what cool craft you'll make with it during the winter

mossy nests of nostalgia they are
nostalgia of paris, nostalgia of norway
nostalgia of farms and giggling creeks
and the lacy shadows of trees on a cool, wet path
nostalgia of walking into the golden embrace of a rustic kitchen
like the natural museum of a garden
with your lover there to meet you
to laugh with you
to spill flour and rub noses
a home that never quite felt like home
nostalgia, nostalgia, you prankster nostalgia

on second thought:
i adore you nostalgia
you hold on only to what is true
that home was really a home at times
if only for those split seconds that resonate through time
to now

they serve as arrows and road markers to the truth we are building
the trick is in trusting
the trick is in biting the bait
see,
i nibble fantasies with my morning fruit
i sip fairy tales for lunch
i know now what really feeds me
i have tasted the stuff of dreams and i know it is real
i look for it everywhere

look for the child with paint on its face
mud in its toes
the world in its hair
eyes,, the mirror reflection of a mirror
and skin the gift of 24 long summers

long underwear in july

strawberries! (sometimes a bit moldy)
the raspberries are ready
and cherries
and sudden abundance of things that grow on trees--
next place i live i'm planting trees first thing for sure,
windowbox or rolling hills.

often clarity's hard to come by for me here--
i think i might be sad a lot,
but also i really like this work and the pace of my days,
beans and rice,
going to bed my body exhausted,
getting up and doing it again.
recently we put up 2 acres of nets
so the birds couldn't eat the blueberries;
now we are getting ducks
so THOSE birds will eat the mummyberries, the fallen diseased ones--
inside birds outside birds baby birds dead birds mobs of hungry birds...

for breakfast i am eating often eggs & mustard greens
or oatmeal & yogurt
there's a wealth of dumpstered field roast in the fridge
and politics of sharing the kitchen are confusing to me--
a different texture of communal living,
but i guess it is true that
people who come out to live on a farm want some quietness, private space,
become a little more okay with silence and aloneness
at least silence is easy to come by around here.

and sometimes the sun is glorious!
and there is fresh bread! or pizzas on friday!
i am always excited to eat lunch!
local politics are kind of super interesting!
our dog left and returned!
the hard cider flows and flows!
and when z and i clean the cabin and burn a bit of cedar, it's homey.
and in my head all day i know i'm walking some lines of sanity and also worlds and also dreams.

but so it goes.
i have been writing a lot of letters recently. i'm happy to write you one too if you remind me of your address, you reader of this blog (i have been a faithful reader but posting, not so much...)

happy summer, to those with fur and without, long underwear or no...

oh also this is cool!
"notes concerning recent actions of the police" regarding the recent murder of kenneth harding, a faredodger on the BART in SF, who was shot by the popos...if you scroll down to the anarcha-fem flier that was handed out that's kinda cool too.

Construction night at the bao

We're full of changes! the living room has a honkin big couch straight outta animal house, my former office is now devoid of all life and extraneous landlord-added ugly wood things that did nothing (recall the aforementioned plan to turn it into a shortterm reallycheap lease for local, visiting nonprofit social justice-type workers? we're on target for an august release!)
, the sun room off of the common space is reverting back to common space (like a walmart turned nature preserve, or maybe california sliding back to the pacific) / guest space - including lots of power sawing and touch-up paint jobs and spackling and light fixturing and um did I mention that I hit myself on the head with a hammer? It sucked. It was also a repeat of my best serve return ever while on the high school tennis team - slice to the face!

Pictures in this post include the common room in a state of transition, helen at the powersaw, the future room stripped to its core, and my head, slightly broken.