aftermath

Light Square

Had not I

Had I not

One light square

With which to view

The world

It shows me when the

Sun comes up

And when it

Goes down and

That is everything

I need to know

November 2016

Tarn

Tarn

I watched a friend marry on Sunday. Warm green tarn. 

Cold water on ice. We sizzled in an iron skillet.

To be honest, I don’t know the groom, and perhaps I don’t want to- 

so I didn’t watch him. I mean, my fix was on her.

I saw her, diamond girl playing dress-up, cast into her big day. 

We all fill spaces for one another. Hold spaces. Rock and adore.

We intertwine. And un-twine. Lend a hand. Drop a napkin.

Make a stitch. Hold it down. Tie a knot. Watch it

fuse two pieces of fabric together.

See as the knot slips. Let it go. Let it dangle. Loose thread.

It may sound like my view of her day was selfish. But 

really that’s all we can do. Watch. Bear witness.

She did for me. I did for her. Now she will make stitches 

with this boyish man who loves her.

You see, she was our first who cared for my child when his father and I weren’t doing that, anymore, together. So – to me- she was. A bobbing buoy, curly sheep, pencil to paper, make-shift family.

BK sept 2016

How Things Go

Stealth

I was following a thought

it went stealthily up into a corner of my

(it’s kind of like there is an old brown tree-house up there)

mind which turned into

a memory

which I am not sure was

real or imagined

I had to look up

to recollect the memory

though later when I looked again I

couldn’t find it

so I don’t really know

if that is where it was

it’s behind my eyes

that I know and

in the cactus that is stuffed into the

too small container it came in.

BK Aug 2016

Jacob Said

Jacob said these things in Martha's Vineyard:

I was really memorized by it.

Some kids have low tension spans.

You make my life worth wild.

Being pacific.

Can't wait to get home and squish into bed with you.

The boat is listering.

My body parts feel electrocuted when I sneeze.

I'd rather be on the bottom of the world with you than on the top of the world with anyone else.

Flash non fiction does not have as good a ring to it as flash fiction.

BK via JK July 2016

I MIss Toast

I Miss Toast

Lately I've gotten round. Like a Russian Nesting Doll. And by lately I mean the weight has been creeping up. Since menopause. Like menopause came and the weight just came with it.

So maybe it's also some bad habits. But I try. I really do.  Lately I've been noticing that eating bread or too much bread or the wrong bread makes me even rounder. So I'm trying to not have that. The bread.

But literally that was my favorite breakfast ever. Toasted Ezekiel raisin bread w butter and cinnamon  sugar. Challah with butter. Sourdough toasted with butter and jam. Avocado toast. Brown bread toasted with jam and cheese - toasted Jewish rye bread with cream cheese. Maybe some sliced tomatoes. Salted.

Sometimes I switched my toast time from breakfast to evening. More like a dessert.

Now during my former toast eating time I do other things. People always talk about what they do for self care. I kind of cringe. Lately I guess I'm painting my toenails for self-care. I pick dark plums, silver, right now I'm going for emerald. Then my toes look like perfect little matchsticks.

BK July 2016

Break Up Take 2

Break up take 2

No one knows how to manage it when friendships falter. Julie was my friend- a good one- in art school but a few years ago we went down the drain. For the second time. And I never knew why. Sometimes you do know. 

After each spring semester would end we'd drive to the Yuba River, lie naked on the rocks, working for the tan that we now know is a dumb idea.

We were both vegetarians. She liked wet rice. I liked it sticky. We'd cook giant pots of it and sit on the floor eating our dinners with chopsticks.

We laughed so hard i don't even know why but we made recordings of our laughter on cassette tapes and listened to ourselves laughing and then cracked ourselves up

more. We could never remember who had the tape last.

I went with her once to rescue another friend from a cult. I can still recall the chant we had to endure while waiting for the right moment to sneak her out. Nam Myoho Renge Kyo.

We traveled to Mexico together and even though I got sick there again the laughing prevailed. We talked about boys mothers dreams food art clothes music ideas.

She went with me to my abortion. After chastising me about being careless. She was more interested in sex than I was. She went to a workshop on finding her G spot. I was indifferent. She was class president. I was more of a stay in the back ground person trying to perfect my plastering techniques.

Our lives grew apart. Marriage / jobs. Divorce. Children. The usual stuff. At one point we drifted toward each other again but too much time had lapsed. Too many different choices made. I was invited to her house on cape cod and arrived only to be told there were too many guests and was pointed toward a campground. I tried not to feel slighted.

And then, the last time, each of us single again- but this time with children in tow- had dinner together with my parents- but my father - not himself- taken over by Alzheimer's- told her daughter she was pretty. He meant no harm. But this time they were offended.

We never spoke of it. And we never tried again.

BK July 2016

Driving Instructions

Driving Instructions

There are lots of signs telling me what to do. Speed limit 55. Bridge freezes before road. 

Tappan Zee Bridge to the right. Deer Crossing. 

But no signs about my job interview. I've been interviewing lately how I imagine other people do online dating. Will this be the one? Will he she it they like me? Will it be hard? Can I do it? Will it last for life?

It's amazing how each state knows it's it's own state. It actually feels different when you cross the borders. Pennsylvania has the kind of green that has more yellow in it. New Jersey has more spaces between the trees. More trucks too. And New York has a higher sky to earth ratio.

There is one truck that I've been sharing the road with for miles. Mavis Custom Tires. The graphics are sort of a Dr. Seuss style. And backwards. You'd have to read them in a mirror to understand.

Long drives always remind me of my father who died this year. I guess my first long drives were with him at the helm. He drove a Toronado and my mother mostly drove a station wagon but once he brought home a used Mercedes for her.

It was the 1970's. It was gorgeous. Grey sedan with worn leather seats. At least I think they were. Though I might be lying. They may have been tan. But the nice kind of tan. It was a convertible. My older sister could drive and in the summer she would offer to take me and our youngest sister for a ride over the mountain. 

We would scramble into the back seat, shorts over our bathing suits, my navy blue one w the gold buckles at the shoulders, bare feet and tangled hair.

I don't know if my sisters share that memory, but I don't want to find out. I don't want it ruined.

One day we didn't have that car anymore. It was expensive to keep up our dad said. And there were complications for him with his business. But we didn't understand about that. 

July 2016

Free Advice

Free Advice

I can see your bra through your shirt(at least I'm wearing one.)

Your breath smells.

You shouldn't drive hunched over.

Or wear socks in the rain.

It's best not to write in all capitals.

Please eat your brownie over a plate.

Your hair looks better in layers.

Don't forget to bring flowers.

Your furniture isn't arranged properly. I'll

help you change it.

Just eat less and exercise more.

Make more time for yourself.

Save 1/4 of your salary for rent.

Hang your coat up as soon as you walk in the door.

Say yes at first and no later. 

Your ass crack is sticking out of those pants.

Please mind your garden.

Keep your child at home.

July 2016

Jacob's Nose

Jacob's Nose

We have left but

are not there yet. It took 

longer to arrive than to return.

I'm afraid of feeling empty 

so I look at that photo of you, wallet-sized though you are right next to me, 

in the flesh, chattering away.

You haven't boarded yet. How does

beginning go how does remembering 

without forgetting go?

The hand of the moon 

shone. Rivets on wings

were mocking me.

Travelers with different

destinations find their gates.

You said your nose is good at 

keeping out the bad smells

and letting in the good ones.

July 2016

Eyes

Vomiting out of my Eyeballs       



You were explaining to me
how he takes a while to get going
but then doesn’t last long.   

And how she is ready to just
jump in but
then might bail later.

And how there are
two different kinds
of fears.

The kind you want 
to get over and the 
kind you shouldn’t. 

BK
June 2016

Titles Without Poems

The Day Before the Day Before Yesterday

Flipping Someone Off After They Turn Around

Don’t Forget to Eat a Sandwich

Business as Usual

I’d Like to Take Some of My Hats Off

Be the Thing

Keep Dark

Little Left to Look At

Two Instead of One

Let it Be Stolen

Insouciant Orange Ribbon

Flop of Hair

So Long Leaf

BK May 2016 

fox ears

Water-logged

Supraliminal as fox ears
The world squishes
Into a boxing glove

Sweatier than a swamped
Canoe weighted to one
Side, tipping

I lost my favorite
Leather sandal
The left one

Down down to the bottom
Of the jello-y
Lake

BK
April 2016

reply to a question

I love looking at Jacob's profile when he's
really focused on something.
I love the sound of Pella doors opening and
closing.
I love the smell of my father's wood shop and
of my mother sauteing onions garlic and
butter.
I love tiny furniture.
I love looking up.
I love the ferry boat ride to Martha's Vineyard.
I love making lists.
I love taking off my bra at the end of the day.
I love claw-foot bathtubs.
I love the coo of a dove.
I love the grainy look and sound of 8mm film
projectors.
I love Joan Dideon.
I love the old Whitney Museum.
I love being Jewish.
I love fire and water. I love dirt.

BK
March 2016

Daddy Long Legs

(ready about hard-alee!)


You walked SMACK
into my burp smoke

a stripe,
a clip,
a handled cellar door

stern treasure-mapped
to bow's end

sweep the sail
a tiller-edge still

dawn's pink chiffon
levitates billowing.

BK
March 2016

this is not about me

Solipsism

Like a dog

pissing on a fire

hydrant

wanting to believe

in a noble future

version of

self

sucking poor souls

into her giant

baby orbit

of disposable props

heard through fuzzy filters

and a water glass to the wall:

“I am your fucking consequence!”

She never had a punchers

chance at happiness.

BK winter 2016