verbamicability

10 things that make me happy

smiling; walking; catching friends' eyes; trading backrubs with my mom; sitting on my rug'd floor to write; being in the vicinity of my grandma Lizzy; opening windows for breezes; considering appropriate word choice; music that wants dancing; poetic translations

idea from Kaylen (http://happynotions.blogspot.com - rockin' blog)

my brother turns twenty-two

a whole young hombre
passed the day playing guitar
and night? drinking wine

shrug velvet rain

shrug from my sweater
pull on dry velvet shorts and
listen to the rain

letters, comets, smiling

letter writing, lost.
soon our hands will not hold pens...
mailboxes empty.

bring 'forever' stamps!
(to stash under my mattress
for the renaissance)

***

some things last longer
you'll know them when they happen
like comet-tailed blinks

***

when I fell asleep
I still felt like I, smiling
spent the night on rocks

bring the boat around

bring the boat around
and we'll all take turns steering
barnacles aside

***

arms up, we should dance
why not make use of our legs
and functioning knees?

***

fall forward, we'll catch
there's a line behind you and
cool water below

thought jumping

less than one second
brings a bike toppling over
and a bitten cheek

***

drumming starts and slows
to the rhythm that it knows
one fortified wave

***

from some perspective
we've all been inside before,
we're all starting fresh

***

bring it from your ribs
where there's neverending heart
believe me, it flows

cookies are useless until you are hungry

written in my little red notebook, while on the road -


'ridiculous queue'
said the father to his son
hurrying along

*

sixty degree wedge
boosts a brown'd leg from the floor
in flash and buckles

*

caprese sandwich
e bibite fresce fill
prior-unknown voids

*

even with two seats
it's plain that the young couple
want to share just one

in their human uniforms

overwhelming undercurrent
contained on the train platform
still'd by inattentive standers
in their human uniforms

***

I've got bluing flames in stomach
always in there, like my heart
fan'd by banjos, drums and guitars
fed by breezes, kicks and starts

grown by words and talks of wonders
liven'd by good belly laughs
kept by unsaid understanding
fueled by blunders, made by gaffs

tended by true soul comrades
under currents and through storms
who know the flames they have themselves
contain'd inside their humanforms

300 portraits: same woman, same pose.

An exhibit at the National Portrait Gallery in London. Francis Alys' collection of portraits of Fabiola, a Catholic saint. Read about Fabiola: http://www.guardian.co.uk/artanddesign/2009/may/03/francis-alys-saint-fabiola