Returns - Susan

After Christmas

I will not write about home.

You can never go back, that much

is well documented.

Here are the things I can return:

1 T-shirt, too tight around the middle

3 Spiral notebooks, poorly bound

1 Textbook, for a class not taken

One can give back what is useless, or broken.

One can lay claim to something new.

The former cannot re-emerge as the latter.

One can return, but not return to.

There are no stories in objects untouched,

spaces uninhabited, clothes as yet uncreased.

The old stories are gone.

They are in that home, whose doors are locked.

This emptiness is yours to fill –

Return

To return is to
turn into yourself.
As an archaeologist
carefully brushes years
of dust aside
to uncover the pieces
of symbols of life
left behind,
I parse my way
through odd things;
crumbling relationships,
disintegrating memories
seeking some fundamental truth--
only to find that the heart
of the substance
is the dust.

New Year, New Theme: Returns

For this week's exploration, we are going to delve into the idea of 'returns,' a common idea this time of year.  Whether you are wishing someone many happy returns, returning a sweater that just isn't you, returning home for the holidays, or returning to your daily life after a holiday trip, returns are popping up all over the place. 

A many happy returns to you!

A Recipe - Susan

1.

With your hands, pull together

this shaggy dough,

marbled with sweet butter,

smooth as the skin

across his shoulders, and also

freckled, with cinnamon and salt.

2.

Apples for sweetness –

slice them thinly,

mound them up and tuck them in.

There will be too many to fit,

eat one with honey,

lick your fingers clean.

3.

Play the serpent.

Kiss his lips and let him taste

the nectar on your tongue.

The air is heavy,

perfumed, sweet and spicy.

Realize, you are naked.

4.

Eat your fill.

On Vegetarianism and Monogamy - Naomi

On Vegetarianism and Monogamy



First I
sauteed the onions
until the opaque became
translucent
Alternative ingredients
build and thicken the dressing
Substituting animal fruits for
kinder, inanimate nutrients



Meeting daily caloric needs
of intimacy can be strained.
Hunting and gathering
compliments
and touches
But to refrain from
hunting--
against natural instincts--
evolutionarily seems
counterproductive.



And yet--
the body moves more freely
not weighed down
with dense
digestion



And while beads
form and glisten
on the browning
skin of the turkey
I know
it will not be me
who dismantles
the strips of meat
with my tongue

Food, glorious food!

In honor of Thanksgiving, I propose we write poetry about FOOD!  Food is such a big part of our, or any, culture.  So much of Susan and my time together has been around various kitchen tables, enjoying amazing food with people we love.  There are wonderful amazing things that people are doing with food, and also hurtful ways that food is used against us.  This is the first time I am preparing Thanksgiving dinner, and I am looking forward to doing some serious meditating on the food we eat, and the wonderful people I will be eating with!

News Poem

For this poem I drew inspiration from National Geographic - Jimmy's mom got us a subscription last Christmas and it has been a monthly source of wonder.

Telescope

I want to talk about peripheries:

how we define ourselves by what surrounds us –

and what we keep at bay.

I was reading about the North,

about Scandinavia, up close to the Arctic.

There are people there, called Sami –

at the edge of all things, just before unending white.

They herd the reindeer, sing to them,

move with the living, beating, tide of fur and hoof

across imagined borders, inked and named

in far off, warmer places, where the lines are drawn.

I saw a picture, once, of galaxies colliding –

an image of the past so distant,

the mind recoils from the knowing.

Four arms encircled, spiraled tighter, and there,

became a Rose.

These stories are not connected.

Or, if they are, it is only from the outside,

looking in.