Poetry

11/28/2017
Heirlooms
upright grand piano, tilted
Grandma taught us all
that her sickly parents
sent her down
to the old-timey version
of what we all came to know
as Pic 'N' Save
with a pocketful of nickels and old-timey coupons
to buy old-timey expired food
so big girl Grandma could portion out little pieces
for her …
10/23/2017
Cultured
Costa Rican food, algorithmically made artistic

I have been staging photos
of my day-to-day life,
doctoring them,
and sharing them with my peers.

My plate of Costa Rican "typical food",
You must be very worldly
the pit stop on my road trip,
Wow, a gas station
the satisfying results of a day's work,
You know, if …
10/13/2017
The Name Of My Land
Trees, sunlight, and shadow in Habdur

The name of my land is Habdur.

In the speech of Habdur
hab dur means welcoming place,
welcoming space,
spacious time,
the inviting present,
the just-right here and now.
As a verb—da hab dur:
to arrive
heeding invitation,
to be born welcome.

In my land
the Habdurrin
—sugar maples …
9/15/2017
The Soul of Poetry
Please,
take me back
into the soul of poetry.
This is my prayer.

Geese fly overhead.
I hear,
I open the window to hear.
I open the door to see
countless, three long diagonal processions
one after the other.

Cold moves across my fingers.
The sun is low and red …
6/28/2017
The Last Bigfoot
raspberry patch
On Sundays, the last Bigfoot
leaves his mournful burrow,
secret life expanding
in Sunday's quiet
to invite footsteps
through the daylight,
across the small world,
and into the raspberry patch.

As Bigfoot plucks the berries
—ripe today, spoiled tomorrow—
the loss of the old Bigfoot gangs moves
not further into …
1/26/2017
America First
The man in the White House
is building a wall,
closing our borders,
putting America First.

I am putting myself first.
I declare independence.
Among my people
I carve out
my place. Mine.
My land, my time, my art,
my opinion, my religion,
my boundaries.
These are my LEGOs
and …