No Tell Motel

You probably already know that Reb Livingston is awesome. I'm super-stoked to have my poems at No Tell Motel this week. It's also my birthday week, which makes it extra good. xoxoxo

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Nearness

I have been craving a certain type of nearness to things: poems, humans, animals. A sort of companionable nearness more than an intimacy. A nearness that I can maintain -- that will not put me in the position of disappointment. I'm not sure if I can write it. I can write that I have been feeling overwhelmed, swept under, pulled in multiple directions.

thank you

New Issue of Womb Poetry: Skeins and Schisms

featuring work by:

Dorothea Lasky
Helen White
Michele Burnett
Julie Strand
Bonnie Emerick
Kristine Ong Muslim
Melinda Wilson
Tara Betts
Susan Slaviero
Jessica Smith
Amanda Ackerman
Megan Kaminski
Nicole Cartwright Denison
Elisa McCool
T.A. Noonan
Maureen Alsop
Constance Merritt
Talia Reed
Tara McDaniel
Jessica Bozek
Juliet Cook

Check it out!

Tonight there were only two pelicans and one cormorant. J has a new dog, and we played fetch for awhile. Then I helped J hold one of the pelicans because it had a swollen eye and it needed medicine. It took me forever to get home because of all the Halloween traffic going into Isla Vista. I just took a shower and now I'm relaxing. There is so much less time lately.

It wasn't a fox. It was coyote.

I saw the fox again. broad daylight.

I've been busy but stable.

ring around

noticing fewer animals lately, and worrying that some effort has been made to reduce their numbers. The squirrels seem scarce, and I haven't seen a skunk for weeks. I hear the killdeer at night, and I've seen one or two in the field. The hummingbirds continue to frequent the feeder. I will go to the birds in a few hours, which will be nice. I go to the bird center on friday evenings, and though it is gentle and soft, I miss the way my morning interactions with the birds would impress my entire day.

the santa ana winds are kicking. I rode my bike to work today, and now my hair is full of dust and leaves. There must be ashes too. Last year, I looked in the mirror after having dinner outdoors, and there were flecks of ash on my skin.

Since the fires burned away all the vegetation on the mountain, they dumped hydro-mulch on the dusty, craggy rocks so as to encourage plant growth. The hope is that this will lessen the risk of mudslides and flooding. At first the mountain looked birght green like astro-turf, but now its brown again. It is hard to believe that it will ever rain.