tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53384879522419001192024-02-08T14:43:00.756-05:0017 beatsnuances, moments, a celebration of the mundane -- life in brief.17 beats.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13010462456433196213noreply@blogger.comBlogger331125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5338487952241900119.post-431102248542062642022-12-15T19:03:00.003-05:002022-12-15T19:03:36.958-05:00Crop circles<div style="text-align: left;">On the day he was</div><div style="text-align: left;">born, I found the loveliest</div><div style="text-align: left;">spiral on his back</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">A beautiful</div><div style="text-align: left;">pattern of blond hair hidden</div><div style="text-align: left;">beneath his clothing</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">It washes away</div><div style="text-align: left;">in the bath, like a secret,</div><div style="text-align: left;">but as I dry him</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">it reappears, a</div><div style="text-align: left;">watermark, a vector field,</div><div style="text-align: left;">a map to his heart</div>17 beats.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13010462456433196213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5338487952241900119.post-2783239943877242132022-12-15T18:59:00.004-05:002022-12-15T18:59:44.658-05:00Little moments (after dinner on Thursday 12/15/22)<div style="text-align: left;"> "What's this?" I ask him.</div><div style="text-align: left;">"My little tummy," he says</div><div style="text-align: left;">"Here it is! Tada!"</div>17 beats.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13010462456433196213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5338487952241900119.post-44701347025727684332022-12-08T13:18:00.002-05:002022-12-08T13:18:44.343-05:00an old dog on a good day<div style="text-align: left;">the bounce of her ears</div><div style="text-align: left;">her pleasant cadence and stride</div><div style="text-align: left;">the absent-minded</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">soft swing of her tail</div><div style="text-align: left;">not a wag, just a care-free swish</div><div style="text-align: left;">that says "I'm happy"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>17 beats.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13010462456433196213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5338487952241900119.post-48838065523827469012022-12-07T13:41:00.000-05:002022-12-07T13:41:06.385-05:00phantoms<div>the stinging tingle<br />
of let-down when a child cries.</div><div>try to remember<br />
<br /></div>17 beats.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13010462456433196213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5338487952241900119.post-54648338887814138392022-12-07T13:19:00.006-05:002022-12-08T13:04:09.960-05:00Michael (part 1, summer 2013)"you're big enough to<br />
push mama around in that<br />
carriage, young lady!"<br />
<br />with paper grey lips<div>and a voice somewhere between</div><div>a rasp and rattle</div><div><br /></div><div>he jiggles her knee</div><div>in his tight grip as he laughs</div><div>and she laughs along</div><div><br /></div><div>as she always does</div><div>he just has this way with her</div><div>and me; it's so nice</div><div><br />
<br /></div>17 beats.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13010462456433196213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5338487952241900119.post-76189063871567953822022-12-06T13:00:00.000-05:002022-12-06T13:00:07.038-05:00The reason for the season <p> (on death, and maybe rebirth)</p><p><br /></p><p>have you ever seen</p><p>the christmas trees get delivered</p><p>in new york city?</p><p><br /></p><p>the trees that are festively</p><p>propped against A-frames</p><p>and grace our streets with the soft scent of fir</p><p>so we are transported away</p><p>from the urine-soaked sidewalk</p><p>to our decorated childhood living rooms of Decembers past?</p><p><br /></p><p>well,</p><p>the trees are piled high in the back of a flatbed</p><p>bound and gagged, </p><p>they are dragged from the truck,</p><p>and tossed brutally to the cement</p><p>in a flurry and tinkling </p><p>of shedding needles.</p><p>tis a brutal scene to behold. </p><p><br /></p><p>but, lo, fear not</p><p>for it is just a tree.</p><p>it took only twenty years to grow</p><p>two decades of sun, seasons, and birds' nests</p><p>before it was swiftly felled.</p><p><br /></p><p>and, lo, fear not</p><p>for the scent of fir will fill the air anew</p><p>when Michael,</p><p>the friendly gardener in Fort Greene Park,</p><p>spreads freshly chipped pine mulch</p><p>over the flower beds </p><p>in the spring</p><p><br /></p><p>and, again, we will be transported.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>17 beats.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13010462456433196213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5338487952241900119.post-55720146437392361942022-12-06T12:41:00.001-05:002022-12-06T12:44:28.244-05:00you're wrong about most things, anyway<p>it's that confident feeling</p><p>of finally being on time for preschool.</p><p><br /></p><p>"mommy, may I have a glass of tomato juice?"<br /></p><p><br /></p><p>"of course, my sweet. </p><p>my darling. </p><p>my beautiful, sophisticated child who drinks tomato juice.</p><p>of course you may."</p><p><br /></p><p>and you smile</p><p>because you are confident</p><p>and organized</p><p>and your child drinks tomato juice.</p><p><br /></p><p>and with one shake of the recyclable glass bottle (well done, you!) </p><p>you feel the cap wobble beneath your palm</p><p>your child says "oh shit!"</p><p>and in that moment</p><p>that second</p><p>that one shake of a bottle</p><p><br /></p><p>you are no longer on time for preschool.</p><p><br /></p>17 beats.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13010462456433196213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5338487952241900119.post-46943019918548650782022-12-06T12:33:00.006-05:002022-12-07T13:51:37.102-05:00velvet<div style="text-align: left;">to touch a baby<br />is to come aware of how<br />coarse one's own hands are</div>17 beats.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13010462456433196213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5338487952241900119.post-38411758005000983572018-12-20T19:12:00.003-05:002018-12-20T19:12:44.312-05:00mothers and fuckerssay im at the park,<div>
and i see some raggedy</div>
<div>
dog with tootsie teets</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
and a floppy twat.</div>
<div>
i always toss her a look --</div>
<div>
one that says "i know"</div>
17 beats.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13010462456433196213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5338487952241900119.post-45497196167055191902015-02-12T21:26:00.003-05:002015-02-12T21:26:40.212-05:00and so do i. goddammit."there'll be days like this"<br />
my mama said not ever.<br />
she just yelled a lot.17 beats.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13010462456433196213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5338487952241900119.post-29345849796216433202015-01-10T21:12:00.001-05:002015-01-10T21:12:26.597-05:00and there's a firefingers a bit cold<div>
and bellies warm with food,</div>
<div>
she leans into me,</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
opens my sweater</div>
<div>
and nuzzles my middle.</div>
<div>
"let's be close," she says.</div>
17 beats.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13010462456433196213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5338487952241900119.post-40199753167607744502015-01-03T17:45:00.001-05:002015-01-03T17:45:31.842-05:00we practice French in the tub"my nails. mes ongles."<br />
she makes waves with her legs<br />
"look at all my scabs."17 beats.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13010462456433196213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5338487952241900119.post-3594956297751366002015-01-03T16:23:00.001-05:002015-01-03T22:55:18.436-05:00my homelet this be my castle<br />
let this be my fortress<br />
let them hold me here, captive in this perfect prison forever and ever.<br />
let this be my tomb.17 beats.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13010462456433196213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5338487952241900119.post-16304606510735838002014-12-29T20:32:00.003-05:002014-12-29T20:32:51.091-05:00aggressivepoorly fitted shoes<br />
cold ashes over embers<br />
expired laxatives.17 beats.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13010462456433196213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5338487952241900119.post-44928201405458365722013-12-17T20:33:00.000-05:002013-12-17T20:33:04.758-05:00bath timewater washes through<br />
her hair, smelting gold and<br />
silver down her back17 beats.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13010462456433196213noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5338487952241900119.post-65933141171135595422013-12-04T20:49:00.001-05:002013-12-04T20:49:45.431-05:00casting shadows<br />
under the winter<br />
sun, when noon looks like sundown,<br />
she makes tree poses.17 beats.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13010462456433196213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5338487952241900119.post-77540423470011642792013-12-01T17:06:00.003-05:002013-12-01T19:50:36.590-05:00ASMRShe's sweaty and warm<br />
in my arms as we sit and<br />
listen to street noise.<br />
<br />
She just woke up from<br />
a nightmare, so her little<br />
mouth is cracked and dry.<br />
<br />
It clicks in the most<br />
pleasant way when she whispers,<br />
"Kids is screamin. Yeah."17 beats.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13010462456433196213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5338487952241900119.post-62088933272805037632013-11-12T22:44:00.001-05:002013-11-12T22:44:44.964-05:00when i wear a braidtiny fingers touch<br />
my neck. "wow, beautiful,<br />
oh my word," she says.17 beats.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13010462456433196213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5338487952241900119.post-42637938844333204532013-11-06T21:50:00.002-05:002013-11-06T21:58:58.959-05:00fight or flight"wow wow wow" she says<br />
in a giant exhale. "oh<br />
my word. wonderful."<br />
<br />
we are walking through<br />
our neighborhood in the<br />
dark for the first time,<br />
<br />
and she is amazed.<br />
i remember when i felt<br />
that same vertigo,<br />
<br />
the height and mass of<br />
the city nearly sucked me<br />
in as i looked up --<br />
<br />
her father saw my<br />
panic and said, "don't worry,<br />
it's like a big hug."17 beats.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13010462456433196213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5338487952241900119.post-87080934403945897572013-11-04T21:15:00.001-05:002013-11-04T21:27:01.770-05:00she knows.i am frustrated.<br />
our cat has been howling for<br />
forty five minutes.<br />
<br />
not sweet little mews<br />
but full-blown MROOOOOOWs that echo<br />
down the hall, through the<br />
<br />
baby monitor --<br />
insanity in stereo sound.<br />
a sippy cup drops<br />
<br />
and spills. our dog barks<br />
and paces. our other cat<br />
chirps, demanding food.<br />
<br />
the sonic clutter<br />
is closing in around me.<br />
then from far away,<br />
<br />
a tiny voice says,<br />
"bonjour mama. how are you?"<br />
it's a warm blanket;<br />
<br />
empathy that she<br />
doesn't even understand.<br />
"all better. Thank you."<br />
<br />17 beats.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13010462456433196213noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5338487952241900119.post-11439198426269103002013-11-03T14:19:00.000-05:002013-11-03T14:19:17.727-05:00Two.I have 2 more days <div>
with my baby. 2 more days</div>
<div>
because the experts</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
decided seven-</div>
<div>
hundred-thirty-one days is</div>
<div>
long enough for her</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
to be so young. And </div>
<div>
I would keep her this way,</div>
<div>
milky-breathed and soft,</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
were it not for my</div>
<div>
curiosity about</div>
<div>
what she'll grow to be.</div>
17 beats.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13010462456433196213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5338487952241900119.post-84015457312482389812013-10-30T22:46:00.002-04:002013-10-30T22:46:24.506-04:00my gluten-intolerant friend taught me this.guess what gang? when you're<br />
super drunk, yo sangwitch don't<br />
need no fuckin bread. 17 beats.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13010462456433196213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5338487952241900119.post-76091538720192892092013-10-27T09:37:00.002-04:002013-11-06T15:19:50.612-05:00"Aww. Now that's too bad.""Your boy is handsome."<br />
"You kiddin me ? He's gorgeous."<br />
His pit is in tact<br />
<br />
with clipped ears, something<br />
I don't normally like, but<br />
this wasn't a hack job.<br />
<br />
"And how bout your girl ?"<br />
he says, appraising Siouxsie.<br />
She's a tangle of<br />
<br />
leaves, stink, grass, and curls.<br />
"I guess she's alright" I say.<br />
He assesses me.<br />
<br />
"Yeah, yeah, I feel ya.<br />
But you ? You're lookin pretty<br />
damn sweet. You married ?"17 beats.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13010462456433196213noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5338487952241900119.post-16545809357076661452013-10-23T21:49:00.000-04:002013-10-23T21:49:02.385-04:00come here, let's do a quick pony<br />
"you look so pretty<br />
with your hair tied back" i say<br />
in my mother's voice17 beats.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13010462456433196213noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5338487952241900119.post-25185052506612582642013-10-22T16:31:00.000-04:002013-10-22T16:31:10.693-04:00"I didn't want to tell you," he said.<br />
she lie there, so still,<br />
with no twitch in her paws, nor<br />
quiver in her lips<br />
<br />
i've seen my own cats<br />
dream -- it's full of chatters and<br />
fluttering eye lids --<br />
<br />
she had none of this,<br />
because the cruel drop from<br />
the bridge had killed her.17 beats.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13010462456433196213noreply@blogger.com0