Tag Archives: 2023

diaric, poetry

’23 Six Years a Wife

Photo by Monika Grabkowska on Unsplash
When it’s Christmas
at Graceland and his sweat
—Elvis’, that is—
	bygone king
pours but the keys pour more
rain down on me since Rapid City ‘77
nothing those spent red soda cups could hold
	busy holding him together with suit sequins and leather

Just like the melody, thank God
It’s unchained. May we all be.
	rivers get lonely, too. How could that be? 
	swim, stay next to me. Resembling eternity.

The devil takes the water,
The devil makes it mine,
The devil tells me, Quiet now,
All will be fine...
	Just give me all your power.

But when it’s six years a wife
and nearly two a mother, thank God
The waves make clear—
The fight is surrender,
The devil makes you choose
	—dignity or else—
tortion is just another dance

Spell with your hips,
	tongue and lips—
I am in love with you.

[archival] for the curious, these diary entries (and jukebox time capsules) from the same time period in past years:

jukebox:

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diaric, poetry

’23 too many positives

Giverny | Photo by Pascal Bernardon on Unsplash
When I almost got away with it.
When it beat me up, down the barrel
for weeks. Roughed me.

When i’m coming out of the woods.
When i’m in the clear. 
But. You showed me indeed
the tough going sent who going. 

1. When… 	.	.	… I don’t think you like me very much at all.
2. When you used to be funny. Now your air’s grievance.
3. When you forgot the sugar for the pie. 
		(The risk you run, 
                baking without tasting.)

When I found friendly eyes
Surprise, between the boulders and the skulls.
I would have passed by, despite the roses
I so prize. Though your portrait hangs 
in my house. For years I passed, loving the color.
Not recognizing you. 
But you recognized me. Love is real.

The thing i’m here 
to learn—my body—is
enough is enough. I am
riches aplenty before the burning obscene.

When you thought you were the terror.
When I laugh, 
because you have. Never. Seen. Me.

When it’s enough of you; 
your time is lean.

jukebox:

[archival] for the curious, these diary entries (and jukebox time capsules) from the same time period in past years:

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poetry, station notes

Station note: remember how you had me

Hi folks! With gratitude, I’m happy to report that my poem “remember how you had me” found a home in manywor(l)d‘s Issue 2. It was an honor and a delight working with the editors, I thank them from the bottom of my heart for this opportunity; I hope you all enjoy reading this issue (and Issue 1), it’s chock full of wow and wonders.

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diaric, poetry

’23 Ceòl mòr

Photo by K. Mitch Hodge on Unsplash
When the air is the high water.
Your throat, your spine.
Your nails a-clack and coffin-cut
like the chasing paper’s tines.

When heaven’s middle stills
its clouds full pockets of currents;
The riverbed we can’t escape.
Only anchor’s my horns, my horns 
our roots now.

Horns, promise me, for my parade.
No grave, just currents; no spot
—a Waldo in the bardo—
An orchard, perhaps. The rain calling for bed.
That way I will travel with you.
That way I drowned will sing for you, my call ends

At home with the world.

[archival] for the curious, these diary entries (and jukebox time capsules) from the same time period in past years:

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diaric, poetry

’23 anniversary

Photo by Nacho Carretero Molero on Unsplash
You’re weird where I wasn’t.
Bold of you
to let it spill because I did
not unless it was tears.

When it’s been five years.

When you petrify
Them and I love that
for you. Keep going.

True blue you, how you bore
through me, darling. Saw; 
you could not help but to.
I scared easily. I saw, too.

Your mistake was perfection,
an -ism I’m proud you cashed.
        —You gave me such cushion
	taught me the riversleep, recounted how 
	a lion played in the snow—
Your strength is you’re willing
to err often, and in the open. And to laugh.
How it spills, the land will decide.

—O! How you listened to me.
—O! You heard me like no other.

No matter the when, we will always
have the porch and our letters.
Rings of fire and cut glass passed 
between us, a cackling
in the clair moonlight.
Our visions a shared music 
over and over again.

Sakes, your name is mine
and hers, too. My pride.
I thank you
for carrying me along 
for the ride.

Go forth, my love! Mistakes’ embrace.

You are never alone
when there are so many cycles.
You are just brave, which can feel 
that way. The only way 
to stay is weird.


Now, turn it all the way up.

[archival] for the curious, these diary entries (and jukebox time capsules) from the same time period in past years:

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diaric, poetry

’23 you didn’t read the book??

Photo by Boston Public Library on Unsplash
messy messy mess-mess
	mess messy mess

mess and listen run aground
messy kiss and lies
	
messy messy mess-mess;
	A pocketful of rye
messy messy mess-mess;
	And us an angel tie.

Four-and-twenty blackbirds, fenceposts of the day
messy messy mess-mess;
I keep what you say.

messy messy mess-mess;
baked it in a pie.
	oh-so-hot your steel-beamed truth
to be your reject is to be my butterfly

it's time to take to the bath. 
Timing just for redress.

When it’s time for the answers to all keys
And the fresh sack of flour is spoilt.
When I am the fire in the belly, serving
the witch that you need.

when baby needs a new pair of shoes
so we went to bed with six.

Monthly jukebox1:

  1. For some reason, everywhere I go, I hear “Hotel California”. The Eagles have something for me, it would seem. lmk fellas. ↩︎

[archival] for the curious, these diary entries (and jukebox time capsules) from the same time period in past years:

* ’22 B Sounds
* ’21 Even my silence is powerful
* ’20 Bagheera Chamomile
* ’19 The Jasper Vessel

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diaric, poetry

’23 Down Burns the House

Photo by Shot by Cerqueira on Unsplash
When the siding’s in cinders
and now I lounge on
warm rock warmed
too by my bones
my purring bones

Asleep in the day 
in the open—a torch
of rest daring you to 
wake me. Inviting you to
sneak past.

Or not.
Whatever.
I’m good either
way.

WHEN THE RENAISSANCE WORLD TOUR IS AT MY DOOR 
			!!! !!! !!! IloveyouBeyoncé
			humbledinthepresenceofyourprowessyourvisiontheinspirationyouare

When the world is my kind of pink
			IloveyouBarbie-O,therichgiving
			yougavemeyougavemeplaysandimaginingsOandIbrokefree !!! !!! !!!

Fellowhearts choose the dark 
paths, cross purposes
known as Unnecessary and Obligation.  
known to be rough.
known to take you from yourself.

There are too many nightmares roamin' around. 

Meanwhile, my quiet
observation is a trance. Takes note. Bears witness.
The white bear and the black jaguar 
chose me.

When a second Renaissance 
surprises; her sandcastles are built
together, and the joust was good and sun.
shadow dancing dapple 

When the letter arrives right 
before the double moonwalk. 
Signed forevermore, 
Stay wavy, peaches. Stay wavy.


A journeycake. A blown still.
The burning house. A mercy kill.
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diaric, poetry

’23 Consequences

square photo of orca whale keychain in a blue-bottomed toy water table
The summer of smoke teaching us to pay
better attention to air quality scores

A bike without a wheel

Istanbul was a cat in your bed
then turned around into an international traffic incident

Desperate for a smile.

What’s enough warning for a 
tidal reckoning?

When experimentation is the object, don’t you see? 
No, you feel. The eyes of the sea. 

P		L		A		Y

and some Roy Orbison MAX VOL, I expect.

I jotted this down early
before my clear bottle
arrives my sailboat, 
salvation, my vessel of 
surrender.


<<I am brave>>
     --aged six
songs coming through the vines and lines this time around
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