yum house

you asked if i wanted chinese
but i had no taste for it. so  i missed
my chance to try the yum house, a legend
at the edge of the projects, so good, the genteel
souls of the heightss cross  the river for it.

i kinda thought you'd be back after all
despite the sandy commitment.
so far though, no one's knocked.  i'm not
waiting for season's end , a rough version of the sales rack.
i'd rather look in the shallows of ft desota for a blue dragon
with one wing, despite the cold.

/










it's about what kind of audience you want.
that's what drives the tapping. even though you really already know
there are smaller, younger versions of you waiting to be born
it won't really take this dying mayfly to begin those labors.

and you have no message to the future, why would you do that to me?
there are ways of being you haven't even dreamed of yet.
let me find out myself, then ,when it's time.

so that what would be the  point of saving any of it.
if you're reading what i'm writing, your life is passing by.
turn off the movie, record your own.

that means the audience i want is the one i've always written for.
me. in the future. i ran across the hand written journal i had
for when d left me and it was only half full. the inside cover
has  a photo of him and me rather early in our
relationship, , taken by mj is how i know/ i am talking
animatedly to someone, smiling, his lips are pursed
in profile he looks so much  like a guess jeans model
that i get a small catch in my throat at the beauty
despite the years between now and that moment.
there is another photo of him alone,  he looks weary
 eyes  closed, sufferance on his face or a prayer
to  make it all go away. the pages after
are filled with badly written torment,  poorly
awkwardly cast in bad similies and trash from the streets.
 i wonder if the things i said online where as bad, feeling
happy that the public view of them has faded
into the painted over tags in a so last year part of the city. .
he said they were pity magnets posing as poetry,
i wish i had half his talent. lol.















(*)*


and now i am in the playroom
where your dollhouse sits in a place of honor.
a candle flickers redly in a colored votive
atop the yard sale five year old size chest
i bought at the anual westchase event/ the gates
where open . i also found a mirror just your size.
the desk has been moved to the entry way and we've expanded
the play area so that cars can make trips to lands
afar , where super raggedies, ann and andy, reside
nursing their wounds. since the new dolls came along
they've been all but stuffed aside. i do not think
they will survive till your daughter is three, my love.

 *(*(((((
it took me almost an hour to get on this machine tonight.
i still find its creaky fan, small screen and usb'd keyboard
the best place to fall into free flow. it's how i know to type,
mostly by touch and fast as fuck backspace.

and i weeded all day today, mowed the yard. my nails are cracked
dirt blackens the razor thin spaces between layers.
it was good to be outside with bees droning around
my fingers as i followed the roots of spanish needles to their home
and yanked out the small daisy like flowers chanting
songs the radio's been playing five times a day. i heard the needles
cry out as i pulled a thousand babies from the soil, torn mothershearts
in fistfulls after stabbing them with my cheese slicer trowel.
they begged the bees help but bees are adhd things. once the scent
is in their nose, they're off to the next flower, whose battles
do not belong to thm. and so i was legion in the extermination
but i do not think i got them all, general. i believe we will have
to go back, when the ones i missed have come out of hiding
or grown some little flowers of their own. i will bring my trusty cheese slicer.




*(


i doubt you were looking for a weather report but seriously
do you remember how the last part of november could be
so earthly paradise? mild days, cool nights. someone said
it was like spring where they grew up. in the midwest.
he was your lover for now, and ever was hanging in the air
between us, getting battered around   on its string while
the helium slowly leaks out/ there a moments of hope
that line the streets with cool shade dotted by yellow jacaranda buds
and there are moments of doubt  that yawn after dinner, empty of the means
to pay the check.  you  burned indeterminancy into my code
so now the surprise game is all i know.each time i
wonder how it is i got sucker punched again.
but this time, i'ma try to not believe in love any more
than i believe in beauty as it drops from the cliff face
in uncountable nanodiamonds to reform in the perfect pool
of aquamarine that is your eye.


i