Summers of
my childhood
were long,
packed with
flies and the
sticky-shrill
cry of cicadas,
afternoon
to dusk.
Posts under ‘poeTRY’
What I remember
The wake
*Today was the wake for the I.S. 666 student who was shot a few weeks ago.
Because no one subs for the sub
Bad, sick day,
huff out of bed,
cough and cough,
leave apartment
before realizing
woven shrug has
unwoven itself
at the sleeve.
Shirt, too, rebels
with mysterious
blue stain.
On turning [23]
On Turning [23]
By: Billy Collins [and me]
The whole idea of it makes me feel
like I’m coming down with something,
[Actually I am - my throat is sore,
I'm sneezing and coughing, and
I have a rundown feeling that must
be the very poetic-sounding malaise.]
something worse than any stomach ache
or the headaches I get from reading in bad light–
a kind of measles of the spirit,
a mumps of the psyche,
a disfiguring chicken pox of the soul.
["Chicken Pox of the Soul" - now
that's a collection I'd like on my bookshelf.]
On turning ten
On Turning Ten
By: Billy Collins
The whole idea of it makes me feel
like I’m coming down with something,
something worse than any stomach ache
or the headaches I get from reading in bad light–
a kind of measles of the spirit,
a mumps of the psyche,
a disfiguring chicken pox of the soul.
Rain and shine
Leafy, rubber oars bob
as it pelts.
Squeaking madly,
our shoes flounder
to the restaurant -
Mexican hole-in-the-wall
with seats of
tattered vinyl
covered in
greasy crumbs.
Wet tracks mark
our progress.
By the time
the chips arrive,
the sun is
out again.
Calling in sick
Fourteen teachers were out of school today. Fourteen!
It’s Monday. It’s been rainy and gray. There are seven weeks of school left. It all reminded me of this poem I have been paraphrasing to co-workers for weeks, and have finally remembered to look up:
Bulldog erotica
You breathe
huskily
in my ear
and I know
how you want
things to be.
You, me on the floor,
in your bed. We’ll
watch the afternoon
slowly drain from the
sun. Me wet from the
storm of your kisses.
Blooming
Funny how
brunch becomes
a sampling of silks.
Freckles
Imagine a smooth lake of skin. Now think of how the sun appears like a friendly stranger and little brown fish swim to the top of the lake to see him. This is how the melanin suddenly breaks away from the other cells it has been huddling with all winter, and my new, rather returning freckles suddenly appear. The freckle is not a migratory beast. It has been in the same place for months and months, waiting for today.
