Joyful poem of New York City (mine).


Scott in the Guggenheim’s whorl

stared at a Picasso with both eyes

forward, said to me “I see the Eiffel

tower, a saxophone and some boobs

on a plate.” We laughed in the museum

and got in trouble for photographs

and got kicked out a closing time

and talked right up to the stop

where we split off from each other

in the underground undergrime

of the subway. I zoomed to Kathryn

with her foster dog who did not

love me but he loved my thigh

and dinner at a tiny restaurant

where we cried in the moment

in between dinner and dessert

when the cook in the kitchen

right behind us began slicing

tomorrow’s onions. Eyedrops

and overdue birthday presents,

hummus scooped around, wine

and wine and a whiskey, a bouquet

and a beer and asleep in Sam’s

bed with the lock fully bolted.

And so much to eat every day,

scalloped potatoes by Kath

in the sweet lowdown space

where she’s made her small home.

And Andy so tall that we hug

like a tree and a sapling. And Max

even taller, so full of face that I’ve missed

since last winter in Bushwick when

the cabs were all taken. Awe of piled

trash on every street, awe of the ease

of jokes and jingles made around a small

wooden table. Only three tiny pills

twice a day for Sam. Schiele for free

in a gallery uptown. The subway running

as if the storm never blew. Sean lives

with Scott and they’re both my true

friends. Poems and lentils and The Strand

and more whiskey. Running down 12th

like a bat outta barn. Coffee in mugs

and coffee to go. Dancing in honor

of a liver restored. And back on the bus

to my home in the country, fat to the gills

on signage, on sweetness.



“The World’s Only Loofah Poem” (mine).


The World’s Only Loofah Poem (I mean it’s gotta be, right?!)


                  (This poem was written after remembering a conversation that took place on Vermont Street in San Diego, when Sam mentioned that she doesn’t use a loofah and Caity went ballistic with incredulousless and I laughed so hard but agreed with her bafflement completely–even Misha uses a loofah!–then on the phone I told  Katie this story and she said, “I don’t use a loofah either. Does everyone use a loofah!?”)


Call me crazy but

I was under the impression

that once loofahs were invented

everyone just started using one!

Loofahs are the greatest!

They spread soap with ease

and bubbles! I can’t imagine

using soap with economy

without one! How else

would I wash so well,

would I scrub this self?

A washcloth hurts

my skin and my hands

are just hands! I need

my drugstore loofah!

Don’t you? Don’t




Honey & elderberries (small things photo).


Here is a tiny jar of elderberries. Misha’s really into the elder tree right now (for proof click here), and I’m really into small things right now, so I took some elder berries he’d dried and put them in a tiny jar with a rubber lid that I bought at the herb store. And next to it is the honey that I get at the farmer’s market every week, which Sam loves and Kathryn also loves, in fact Kathryn made a honey pie out of that honey. Sam just eats it out of the jar with a spoon. I wish I had a tiny spoon as a part of my miniature collection. Soon, little spoon.



I like how the honey looks like it’s the proud older brother of the elder jar. Like it’s puffing out its chest a little.


My Saturday (song) & next Saturday (I’m reading!).


Listening to Fleet Foxes, working hard all day on readings & poems & projects so that when Sam & Caity arrive on Tuesday I will do nothing but be with them.



Oh and San Diegans–I’m reading next Saturday night at a gallery called Agitprop, at 7pm. It’s not happening in my yard and it’s not related to SDSU–it’s like, a real reading! Please come if you live here. I’ll be selling mini chapbooks (one of the aforementioned projects getting finished today in preparation for my visitors).


(And so much thanks to Lorraine for inviting me to read. Makes me feel like a real poet.)