butterbee

a bee is buzzing at the window by my head, rolling itself into the glass, like knocking to get out, feeling with its feet for air. it's not going to happen this way. it has to go back to see the actual opening to the left of the window. you can't just push through like this. at the sill of the window, three bees are are still on their backs. a spider has built a web around one. they beat themselves to death on what looked like open space.

which makes me think: maybe I should find a less buggy place to get coffee in the morning.

giving me pause

you know that it's been a while since I wrote a poem in here, but now I have to, because I've been reading this manuscript called blue and red things by laura solomon, and page after page I'm finding myself a little breathless in the reading, so I want to share.

First Visit to Fire Island

The shore
as day and sun bore on
became to our alarm
smaller, larger
then smaller
again.

We wore
giant black sunglasses.
Surely it were these
that kept secret from us
the water.

****

also, I've been doing yoga, which has been very good, and I feel strong and centered, except for that one time I fell out of crow pose, fell on my face, and then busted out laughing, breaking not just my own concentration, but that of my instructor and nearest fellow yoga-ers.

also, there's a chance I'll be learning how to pole dance soon. go body! woo hoo!