isadoraspace-blog

[isadoraspace-blog]

my pitch

here's my pitch––

i don't know anything

i paced along the edge

of this canyon

between not known & known

good & successful

but now i'm just chilling here

doing yoga, thinking

sure

i want to fly that distance

sure i'd love to soar

but don't know how to beat

my own drumwings:

i'm great i'm great i'm great i'm great

now singing to a cliffside flower

now doodling another map

if these things are those

which you need too

come check out my shit

(april 2020)

[isadoraspace-blog]

Hello red curtain

Hello red curtain!

How soothing it is

to see you here

I should have known

I’d be here

with you on this stage where you belong

There are

so many places

you could be tonight

so many stages of being for you

to hang

you’ve been

in paintings

for 500 years! of paintings

next to kings!

Plus mutated and trampled

in your outdoor carpet form

and now here. Thanks!

(february 2020)

[isadoraspace-blog]

Simple pleasure

When I take a shower

looking out the window

at my neighbor's lush garden 

I feel cleansed, poetically

It is just so lush

with so many of each flower

thirty pink dots 

a thousand yellow dashes

a tree that is somehow purple

twelve green tomatoes 

that in swelling together

wipe my eyes clean

This joy would not grow

from a garden of my own

nor could I pick it 

up at a florist

It is a joy born from my neighbor’s 

chaotic gardening style

dripping on the head

of lucky soggy me

My neighbor’s garden is not a metaphor

it's not a place to pluck meaning

it's just a bursting cluster

of rainbow beauty to spy upon

as I wash off a few days' grime

and this poem is just a moment

to thank my neighbor

for making 

me and the butterflies 

so evesdroppedly happy

(2019)

[isadoraspace-blog]

Plea

Don't make me a novelist

please not a 

novelist

they never write 

pimple but

red volcano; white budding

problem; unfortunate 

experience uncovered 

for the first time 

by a somehow naïve

teenage narrator.  No

make me a radio DJ

who says 

It was a perfect game last night 

the only blemish 

on the Red Sox 

was Trevor Kelley

(2019)

[isadoraspace-blog]

White Linen

When I knew 

she might be dying

I started a smelling 

her perfume in her bathroom 

ritual. I was building 

a portal to her 

body for myself

and she didn't 

even wear the scent

It sat on the sink

for no other reason 

except to be smelled 

by me & maybe 

to give her some 

glamourous imagining 

And she wasn't

even dying yet 

just old & I

felt guilty each time

for betraying her life in

posturing a future 

without. I thought 

in case I ever need 

to be sprayed back to 

a time with her

and I haven’t 

needed haven’t smelled 

since. White Linen 

and teenage me 

spraying and sniffing 

solemnly reflected 

in her mirror

(2019)

[isadoraspace-blog]

Hard swallow

What society has my 

picnic blanket enveloped 

in a pitch gingham cloud?

Forgive me I made

a hero out of 

one lone ant 

when I should have 

made nothing out of 

their endless 

parade of bodies 

(july 2019)

[isadoraspace-blog]

Look at me I’m beaming

Abstract thought

does not 

look like 

the surface 

of four walls 

I want to 

remind me to 

never write 

on white

with black ink

again

write in berry juice 

on birch

and 

staple the pages

with a shedded claw

ha ha ha

(june 2019)

[isadoraspace-blog]

Why we wink

We wink to cancel depth perception/ so that what we wink at appears/ infinitely closer/ almost touching/ our single open eye// when we open/ universe and/ depth restored

(january 2019)

[isadoraspace-blog]

The worm and the coffin (for Emet)

What are you doing down here, wood?

Forgive me while I eat you away

What are you doing down here, silk?

Forgive me while I eat you away

And what are you doing down here, gold?

Excuse me while I push you away

For I smell a tooth

that stinks of the truth

and I need to return it to clay

(march 2019)

[isadoraspace-blog]

Death

Death is a flower pressed in a book & forgotten

no longer a flower

just a dull flat fading

the memory of finding that flower

now it is words in a book

any part of that flower 

hidden by its flattening

is gone

just a leaf of paper

that is death

(may 2019)

[isadoraspace-blog]

about an ex best friend

i'm happy that you're living your best life it's just

you're not living my best your life 

you're living your best life which were it my life would be my not best life would not even be my best nightmare life at best would be a slightly nauseous wake in the night press down on the bed to feel palms kick out from under blanket for foot breeze thank god i'm me chug water life

but as you are indeed living that life that to you is the best life well i am happy old friend but i am over here

(2019)

[isadoraspace-blog]

Spring question

The daffodils grew up from

their bulbs & speared through

some dead old leaves. Each 

green daffodil leaf wore a dried

leaf medal around its neck 

Today I wake up daffodil and ask

What does my growth spear through

Through what does my growth spear

(may 2019)

[isadoraspace-blog]

Life is

Life is

a barbecue with friends

I don’t have many

friends but I have

7 hot dogs 8 buns –

Life is

the stress of party

planning

the rule

that to be a good

host you can’t have much

fun &

I am the busy 

host to my own plans 

I hope they

will speak well of this

night long after I’ve

done the final dish

(august 2019)

[isadoraspace-blog]

Life’s what you make it so let’s make it rock

I think that’s 

bad advice 

rock took 

the blues

out

let’s make life

music 

we’re adults now 

we can be

badasses

(2019)

[isadoraspace-blog]

Why we cry

At least for now 

I know why 

I believe 

the salt water 

comes 

from within

to caress 

our own cheeks

a 

drop

of the 

sea

there’s comfort

in

healing 

ocean

(april 2019)