Showing posts with label Dreamery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dreamery. Show all posts

Thursday, December 07, 2017


It is dawn in a dream and
my body is made of politics

nerves write these goodbyes
language breaks at my joints

water seldom returns to eyes
(though it does get in my nose)

we are afraid to admit it--
our days are ephemeral

insects chide and chatter
stars grind and grumble


Tuesday, December 05, 2017

Time to go

Last night, I dreamt that I was looking over grandmother's old house by the sea. I was talking to my aunt and Big A about how it would make sense to get it (buy it?). I think we had decided to go for it until I remembered that the water from the faucets used to stain everything grey and wondered if that still happened and were there loud trains in the backyard?

The night before that, I dreamt of huge temple festival crowds. And among them, I found my mother with her friends. They were in full temple-going mode--vibrant silk saris and gem-studded jewelry and... were taking turns standing on a grate. Mom was so embarrassed to see me, but managed to hug me tight and whisper that I shouldn't tell anyone.

Both dreams were dotted with apocalyptic climate change motifs--rising seas, shimmering heat, crop failures--I blame the eco-criticism-ecofeminism class.

Is This Land is Your Land? 

Environment and Culture in the Anthropocene 

ENG 180/WGS 280


Friday, December 01, 2017


I remember you sleeping
even if I was sleeping too

Same with the puppies
same with the babies

same with begging
mountains to move

same with begging
the earth to open

same with the ice
looking down on me

from the air
and the glass up there

my silence and softness
growing plump like fruit


Wednesday, October 05, 2016


As she dawdled over breakfast (as my kids do err'yday)
she told me that when I had knocked on her window 
to let her know "snooze" time was over
and that she needed to *wake up now*

the knocking had become a part of her dream.
(Someone was showing her a script 
that had the words: "No, No, No"
And as they read it, they thumped the desk.)

This photo is apropos of not much
but I keep it on my desktop
and it makes me smile.


Sunday, February 08, 2015


I've climbed a tree
and I'm talking down

to you.
The moon,

stony-faced, circles the empty basketball net,
is reflected in a crescent of watermelon.


Friday, February 06, 2015

On the Night it Comes

You're calm, sleeping
with the lights on
between both parents

growing ghosts
for the thrill of it

blankets in a clutch
with a firm hold
of yourself

in the old silence
in the odd silence

are layered
with prayers
in the shadows

just beyond
the frame
of side vision

darkness strays.
It reads you
and then stays

at the waist
from far away

and if it doesn't
come further,
or get too close

you could still love it


Thursday, February 05, 2015


these fingers twin
from shaping time
your hair sinuous
works its way alive

this gaze is like god's--
absolutely no concern
marking a jigsaw world
blowing a heady wind

the song rises
but the dance clings
fears and errors tell
warnings and knells


Thursday, April 17, 2014


(For J.K.)

Morning light
your message asks
if I'm alright--when you
dreamt of me last night
it sounds like maybe
I was not alright

Morning breaks too,
birds are the traffic
wardens of our sky--
like them, I become
many many things.
All small magic--

Like a funnel it's still
and still the same thing
on the other side. One
must keep on, there's
little choice on a slide.
I just thank you, believing...

me as I argue what I didn't
know I knew. That's huge.
See: If I said now, even
innocuously, "raincoats on."
Someone (age 6) might scoff
"How would *you* know?"


Tuesday, November 12, 2013

Prayer in the Storm

Today is
an avalanche

The night is
upset desert

packed light
snack light



by light
or not night


Sunday, November 10, 2013

Lest I Forget

I don't speak to our dead everyday
even today, I'm just... just listening.
Listening for the way they whistle.

Mostly the dead never disappear
I can sweep up the dust and papers
and know they never appear either

Still the weight of their stare lingers
on my eyes, in smiles, the limit where
my breath slices my lungs like apples

And my freedom, this pulse I carry.
I close my eyes, every time the last
Holding in glances, instead of arms


Monday, July 08, 2013


The twentieth goose is lucky
lit against the velvet moss
that cushions under-river
from summer's rain of light


The meticulous discipline
of my rising heartbeat
nuzzles bright and attentive,
guides dust and goslings


To a paraphrase of the sun
one day, ruined, diurnal--
winging an elegy for those
who die without signature


Tuesday, July 02, 2013


A wheeling wave
the kids are drenched
swallowing hot, sweaty prayers

Rick teaches them trees
Son of a...? (beech)
We chuckle and shake our heads

At night amidst snores
we count as silence,
diagnose the radiating bloom of calm


Thursday, March 28, 2013


The memory of a plane
crawling before flight
the tires tearing grief
a captured sigh of air

the first possibilities
of the night-mare are
gold-tipped at dusk
needy as a pilgrimage

I follow legs of furniture
to the crotches of trees
light bleeding from clouds
coming down, bringing it all down


Perhaps it is true. Yesterday, a student blamed his dream--of a gray mold that crawled up his toothbrush--on the Gabriel Garcia Marquez we've been reading in class...


Saturday, March 23, 2013


a head
of cabbage garbage
curtained disdain.

Yellow is gold
is lemons
yellow is pages
is journalism
is cold Englishman's lyric

she says
planes, and trains
--not kind to my migraines
it rhymes, write the poem
I say

forged faked
shudderin' end

Monday, March 11, 2013

Snatch Dispatches

Big A and I went to see a student production of The Vagina Monologues this weekend. It was an amazing production with student-scripted passages and made even better because we were sitting with  two of my work friends who were seeing it for the first time.

What happened: Big A and friends were talking about how they'd read excerpts of The Vagina Monologues before but hadn't really caught the show.

What I dreamed that night: That Big A was telling my friends that he'd read "snatches"of The Vagina Monologues before.

I nearly peed myself from laughing.


Sunday, March 10, 2013


Stands at the street corner
begging from indifference

is her weight bearing
down the breath in my chest


Monday, February 11, 2013

The Cure

This backbend is the future
tight wire of dreams
warm like dance
step, tip-toe

your toenail could tear it,
from some other room
a cough, a prayer

your breath
goes to my brain
your back is turned.
(But arched closer to me.)


Monday, February 04, 2013


Like pilgrims
supine, weeping

clothes are planted
like stations

And also like
excuses and bruises

The saddest story
ends again and again


Thursday, March 22, 2012


You've hired this happiness
for the flowering day
it waits patiently

I'll never forget how you felt
green leaves rust-edged
their first voyages

As if you invented a beauty,
in a curl of misfortune
its willing trident
striking flint


Wednesday, February 29, 2012


There is a river
rubbled wrong
with illicit sun

there is a silence
mighty, fruitful

there are lies 
and examples
legs trailing

into the temple,

in their unruly
matted and
sultry sleep


India at 75

I've been reading this WONDERFUL collection of 75 writers on India's 75th birthday from PEN all day and bugging my cousins to read i...