Friday, February 22, 2013


Working you Out

Each day I unbent the spoon,
Pulled back against the yoke that pulled me.
Unworked the blood grooves so easily set
In my cross-stitch brain now liquid.
Like dark demin against a washboard
The motions moved through me
And I learned to sleep flat on my back,
Getting lost in the breath that saved me.
Olive orchards
ajo picante
couldn’t burn you out
living still in swirls of smoke
our tiny universe, creamer in the coffee.
Daily I was called to purge you
A sunset domed the sky at San Rafael park,
Pulled endless scarves from a cedar trunk.
Thimble thread thorns
Of grey blue, blue green,
Intestinal wool. 

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