Category Archives: Landlocked in Indiana

The Only Thing I Have to Slip Into

It’s been a time for living, some days I could even venture to say I’ve been living poetry. A good excuse for not keeping up my writing practice, which is not to say that the impression of these days should not be written down. A list poem, at least, which might include the words
tornado
Roseanne
emergency room
roller derby
ratchet straps
motel sex
southern accents
Wyoming
Deerhunter
redwoods
gorge
king’s chambers
Gypsy
goodbye
reunion
french fries
turtles
elk
electric toothbrush
passenger seat
ten and two
Biting on the gritty dust kicked up by hundreds of lightning bolts striking a purple sky.
Filling up the gas tank one more damn time.

In the past two weeks I have left, I have arrived, I have finished, I have started, I have reunited, I have jumped in, I have come home, I have returned, I have rarely been alone.
I am just catching up with the part that writes, that reflects, that tries to make meaning out of putting words together. I’m in no hurry. I don’t hurry very well.
The first thing I wrote after I returned, in front of the ocean, was a prayer.
Right before I left, when I was landlocked, before my love arrived, when I was often alone, I also wrote prayers. This was one.

Give thanks for prayer
when it’s the only thing
I have to slip into
the cracks of my cold,
tight heart. Give thanks
for clichés, though they
are the very things I warn
my students against using.
Clichés may be dead language
but we say these things over
and over for a reason, don’t we?
Sometimes things just need
to be said without a care
if it’s been said before.
The dead still need remembering.
Give thanks for warm nights
that let me stand out on my deck
in tsinelas and stare at the stars
Give thanks for the waxing moon
that is not yet half way full
because when I have nothing
to hold I imagine my own hands
hanging on to the bright edges,
dipping my fingertips into the dark
parts though I know the moon is always
round and full. It’s just a matter
of waiting for the light to shine.
Give thanks for all forms of transportation
the planes that carry my loved ones in the sky
and the car that will carry me away from this place.
Give thanks for the ability to take care of myself
even when it looks like having one more drink
even when it looks like smoke in my lungs.
Give thanks for the ability to run
and feel my muscles moving
even if my main motivation
to move is to release
my body from longing.

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Filed under cross-country road trip, Homesickness, Landlocked in Indiana, long distance relationships, love, mid-west, poetry, prayer, San Francisco

Return

I feel like the dog in this photo right now. Ay, to watch a thing get smaller and smaller as it floats away towards the horizon. I know, as this dog must know by now, that the boat is coming back. But even so…this day, sure as the setting sun, will never return.

Damn I wish I could find that short little poem by Joy Harjo about home. It would be the bone I throw this dog.

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Filed under Guahan, Landlocked in Indiana, Pacific Ocean

Since I’ve been here…

i’ve spent two days on my own in my apartment. reaching out to connect with new people i can take it or leave it but always glad when i do. maybe it’s time to learn that lesson soon. it’s all new to me what i do on my own. so far i like where i let the wind take me. the past two days i’ve spent worshipping, cooking, making house, writing, budgeting to Hector Lavoe, Willi Colon, Cheo Feliciano…salsa. feeling it now in a way i never had in a dance club here in Apt 6 at 1516 S. Dorchester Drive. Then in between songs at half volume, but still loud as fuck, crickets and other bugs singing their songs. The people who grew up here almost don’t hear it anymore. Trip.

I rode my bike once. It’s a fast one. Light, too. One arm up the stairs. From here on out a sweaty helmety student bicyclist. With small ziploc bags of mixed nuts, carrots and a sandwich. A good sandwich mind you. At least meat, lettuce, cheese and pickles. I got lost on the way home and ended up on a freeway exit. Gave up and took a bus with a bike rack back to my apartment. Watching Being John Malkovich that night with a ginger beer never made me laugh so hard.

There are other things to mention in list form because I need to get crackin on making a big batch of fried rice for the coming week: garage saleing, farmer’s market, 1st year mfa bbq, contradancing, queen elizabeth the only gay club in town, sunset walk with mike d, feeling my ancestors and i go into my first day at school tomorrow ready and amped.

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Filed under food, Landlocked in Indiana, music sweet music