Little Vines 2/4/22

Little Vines from this week.

in black dark clever winter
my eyes heal. I see.
No one knows why.

A gutter-line of Icicles on the garage.
Cold battery. Unsure of spark.
I press the starter. The car gasps in pain.

even the newborn strangers
huddled in their nest
have voices and use them

Tabby cat lying on the bar
Ale de Reggae Doug on tap
I raise my glass and salute my trust fund

dour and dark
my mood
modern flowers rot in blue

I only saw him three times.
Twice to prevent a scandal.
Once to make sure there was a scandal.

Yolky eggs squat on burnt fried muffins
It’s like they’ve just stopped trying.

the surgeon at the gym
her bare hands grasp the barbells and squeeze
the same way they revived your heart this morning

Lightning and seaweed and doused with cold salt water
Wet hands grasping mine –
Yes, I will marry you.

Stage fright. Night after night
the racing heart recovers
the clammy hands never do

his parents
very nervous
feeling the effects of becoming in-laws

of course your story is entirely believable
once it was broken into segments
of four or five clean-edged words
and given a spin

Relaxed and misunderstood
fading in the sun
it’s an ink meander of a message in this bottle
debating whether to come ashore

now one night I slept the next night
but not that night The next one
after this night that I slept. Now you get it.

I bought two.
They are exactly alike.
Both of them angry.
Both of them sneezing.

cheese sandwich. two cookies
the kind never your first choice but cheapest.
one careworn pear.

19 thoughts on “Little Vines 2/4/22

    • Thank you. I was finishing up a lot of fragments today. I think it may be the weather or just a very busy week that has sent my mind in this direction. I think I would like winter to start to turn toward the next season now!

    • My dad used to eat eggs like this. I never could stand to watch. I don’t know what made me think of this today but…here it is. Even now I still think of the sight of his plate and think, ugh…

  1. I agree with Laura about the somber ones and the one that made me laugh. I liked the one about the surgeon, too, and imagining her strong hands.

    I like runny eggs, but not burnt toast.

    • Thank you. I hope these newborn strangers will keep talking as they get older and not let anyone tell them what they say is not worth hearing. Or ignored. Or a waste of time. Some of this happened to me as a child but I kept on talking, I guess I didn’t get the snubs, and it’s been that way ever since. Though I have learned manners and perception, maybe, as I have moved away from the newborn stage!

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