Category: Uncategorized
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the forsythia
I can remember them well but only just barely how the large bushes kept and clustered themselves into squat hollow half-trees along that chain-linked fence. their breaching buds yellow (of course) felt forgotten or just maybe fabricated drops of divinity sown right there into plain sight. no one stopped to be with them noticed they…
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august compost
it’s the black bucket, perch beside the deep silver sink who summons me today. teeming now it began its quest for emptiness yesterday – the soft relentless whisper coming from beneath the heaped seedy tomato pulp and all those black, run-thru coffee grinds. in summer things move more slowly around here- in preparation of the quicken…
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sandra
we belong to our mothers before we ever belong to ourselves and so, my story begins as all children’s stories do- with her story she was born to Amelia Lopes and John Santos of Stonington, Connecticut on Sunday April 4,1954 her given name; Sandra Lopes Santos the last child and only daughter born…
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july 7th
your ex best wife’s friend bare feet finally I like you better now the rain, like that first night of course, you would remember that he missed you like something was left unsaid like someone was trying to say something worth saying my life’s been good, honest and still fitfully, I remember you- miss your…
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notes to nowhere
about this work feeling very grateful for last week’s writing prompt: “find some notes” (these were in my notes app), “rewriting is writing”, “stay close to yourself”. I love how seemingly random these notes looked and the surprise of how connected they really are as a piece of writing, experienced through the act of writing…
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roadtrip
that word. rattles its own corner of personal history with a particular kind of longing. not for time or place but for renditions of self, roads not taken. and so, its top note is familiar, but i can’t place it; is it middle school? high school? or i suppose it may be tucked down there among the blurred haze of tender shards…
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a mother’s love
it doesn’t have to make you hard it can make you soft, it can soften you still just as different water runs the same rock over & again and over & again you are proof, existential pudding that our existence can exist without the love, without the esteem of our mothers it’s unnatural sure and not without…
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signs of life (con’t.)
4.23 today cherry blossoms tickle my eyes my nose my throat too achoo! 4.24 today the river runs teaching me i’m interested in what’s already here and how it changes 4.25 today a raven sits high & brave in an empty tree 4.26 today my children just ten & four- are kind& self-possessed and…
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4.17
today blue jays squawk and fly as one then land in separate trees like you like me about this poem more from my ‘signs of life’ series ..hoping to continue through the month of april xo
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hawkeyes v. gamecocks
i know what you’re thinking: another poem about birds. but can you imagine it? a rooster (trained to fight) and a hawkeye (whom i’ve only just discovered isn’t even a real bird to begin with) playing basketball? i have no choice but to believe it was a privileged white man who came…
santos scribes 