an occasional poem
sifting through mismatched toddler socks
growing faster than a blackberry yantra
and you used to fit in my arms
i’ve cried oceans
laughed from deep places
hallucinated
angrily pulled thorny weeds
admitted the ethereal fullness of
[tastes crossing my palette]
somatic states
ecstasy. and disgust. with my self.
crocuses.
the Amazon is burning
and apples are dumping from the mama tree
live
ready to begin the 13-year journey, taking the same dirt and stony walk to our little village school,
looking lazily at Ollie’s ‘Anne’s shoelace’ and for dead things
hummingbird feathers and snakes
Wondering, how Mothers
do
how I could love beings so Fiercely and be so ready
for them to have
an other time
how exigency stretches through five years
(why must we pay for preschool childcare why can’t we take care of our own children without wanting to punch something when shit gets hard and it shit does. need water)
the grace of blood ties and kula-sangha
and me
deeper and deeper,
into the world and sometimes into luxury and then back to home and
the grace of the Mohawk,
and of lasting love.
dandylyons.
alover.
small moments of describing the pain of a scrape
welcome, change
sifting through mismatched toddler socks
growing faster than a blackberry yantra
and you used to fit in my arms
i’ve cried oceans
laughed from deep places
hallucinated
angrily pulled thorny weeds
admitted the ethereal fullness of
[tastes crossing my palette]
somatic states
ecstasy. and disgust. with my self.
crocuses.
the Amazon is burning
and apples are dumping from the mama tree
live
ready to begin the 13-year journey, taking the same dirt and stony walk to our little village school,
looking lazily at Ollie’s ‘Anne’s shoelace’ and for dead things
hummingbird feathers and snakes
Wondering, how Mothers
do
how I could love beings so Fiercely and be so ready
for them to have
an other time
how exigency stretches through five years
(why must we pay for preschool childcare why can’t we take care of our own children without wanting to punch something when shit gets hard and it shit does. need water)
the grace of blood ties and kula-sangha
and me
deeper and deeper,
into the world and sometimes into luxury and then back to home and
the grace of the Mohawk,
and of lasting love.
dandylyons.
alover.
small moments of describing the pain of a scrape
welcome, change
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