PHILADELPHIA, NAKED.

It is a wonder that my eyes
may see the city from such
varied perches, day to day:

By bus–elevated so that
I may gaze indulgently
into wet, dirt-caked
cavities of construction sites
hidden when I am

By bike, so that the flawed
contours of road, frenzied
traffic patterns spill soft
city breath on my cheeks,
so stilled when I am

By foot, so that I may watch,
observe, stop at the apex of the
Walnut Street Bridge and see
(for the first time) clumps of
bright clothing, remnants
of bicycles, water bottles
sticking to the concrete
embankment below.

This poem was written on January 25, 2012, before I could even conceive of moving out west.

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POULSBO

Come morning, we slid
tippy kayaks into the Sound,
Poulsbo-bound for breakfast

Fearless oars separated
families of jellyfish, we mean
no harm, just passing through

And geoducks – what strange
creations, sand-fountains that
could dance to Mozart

Comfort of land, sun-drenched
streets of shops, families,
Norwegian oddities, pastries
the size of frisbees.

Poulsbo, WA

Poulsbo, WA

EGG-SHAPED SQUASH

Together, we forgive the rind
with a sharpened knife

You split with force
the egg-shaped squash

Whose entrails I spoon
onto the butcher’s block

Spreading like an orange
net, loaded with teardrop seeds

The belly of our oven is
amber-glowing, ready

AN AFTERTHOUGHT

With freckled arms
I search the floor for
affirmation, posing this way
and that.

In the quiet stillness of
Sunday morning yoga,
feelings pour from my
unquiet mind.

Your biggest fear
is you, it says.

A madness I’ve understood
for un-still-able moments,
there and gone.

That you won’t be
who you want you
to be, it says.

That acceptance will
flee or be forgotten,
realized as an
afterthought.

light light light

Juanita Beach, Kirkland | WA