When it’s her time./ when the first check is here&deposited in savings,/ When it’s her time./ when the pin drops through the camera lens,/ When it’s her time./ when it’s jockey in the mail,/ When it’s her time./ when I just want to listen to Nina Simone./ When It Is Her Time.
when it’s an ice storm,/ no power for longer than you can stand,/ when the verse is a nest, it must be/ to confess./ when i got a line out;/ bloodsworth and Proserpina./
It is her time./ It is her time./ It is her time.
when i remember my own tipping point.
when you chalk yours up to
a generation’s desolation and clawing for
something resembling
control. weight. A carrying.
You are underneath, darling, now what
can i do to help? Have a cookie.
Have two.
Get mad. Madder even. Loose the still.
I became a derelict
—that’s fine, i accept—
by not keeping their ship
afloat. I surrender, you’re asunder.
Oh I must be so powerful.
Even now, I swim the same
sea—yet vast, yet oracle;
skim the surf
while at bottom,
the sands, the deep, and theirs eat
the planks, the convoluted halls,
the mezzanine. A clinic
of leisurely reign.
In so deep you have to remind yourself the water is moving.
When it’s a deep pocket and my love keeping you warm, [i hope];
when the music of the land is
the remaining wax, warmed
the velvety petals by my window.
when you are reminded of
the mint cuddle blanket,
—the warm maple syrup sound of
her voice has gotten you through oh-so much.
when the belated gift is now arriving,
when you gotta float all calm-like in the highest altitude,
when even the dog bosses you around,
(yep, still float)
when authority falls down
(yep, still float)
and you look directly at the camera.
(yep, still float)
when you put on your shades and ask who cares? the sun’s going
to explode anyway
When you reeled in the support you have
craved for longer than was necessary,
when you will rest.
When you will tender your
skin, your bones, your body whole with warm
water, scrubs and salt and lotions, with musics
a pair of blue-covered books (a song and a whale of a tale)
the virginal moon, snow-full
and yes, it is snowing again.
and yes, i was warned about today’s wrinkles
and yet, the calendar insists–come to meet
and I must spur on.
If you surrendered to the air, you could ride it.
Toni Morrison, Song of Solomon
When they must be doing something wrong
(a whole lotta cheating going on);
when your butt’s sore (but improving)
and the clog is deep in the line (but courage
and determination must persist);
when the Chief Justice is you, presiding
over consecutive flurries
When this time of year: makes me think of rainbows
because my twin is one; a horned mermaid
underneath and a horned rising to your face.
She’s the start of the wheel.
when the soup is *on*, isn’t it. how do you kill a spider, and está une serpente? who was that downstairs? it was me. now reverse it.
When I fall asleep among the angels and irises to dream my dreams of you, when a marching band of burst-open stars, when a call comes in for aide, when a hunt’s fresh complete, when a balladeer in the afternoon–wear a pair of your best glasses
for when: Do *anything* for clout? She gone. It’s like trying to catch a freight train with a butterfly net.
Le Verseau avec Roméo Elvis … tout oublier.
bardic bullion 