invited inside
for kari edwards -

i am in your apartment, and it's 1991. we are neighbors.
yes it is true, we are two pretty ponies
working in a cut rate rodeo -
we're living on larimer street, north of downtown.
always look for it when i pass by, now inside, here at last,
now i am sure, your tan pick up is parked out front.
sitting in your hoop chair, it's also tan but extra big,
where i recieve the water and lessons
swirling about abuzz, doing,
you are busy, you are calm,
you really care, but you don't give a fuck,
because it's all going to be alright,
it's going to lead to this,
a moths wing one moment,
mick jagger the next,
a swank hilary once,
a silver dolphin butting the shark saving the swimmer next,
you're my mom, you're my dad,
that i would chose.
know what i want now,
it's knowing how to live
in this converted warehouse
ideas and art acosting the senses
even with closed eyes,
the smell
the smoke
cleans the pallette of soul
a hint of tortilla factory permeates
an oil paint that never dries
this is where i live now
self entering self
as gentle as could be
always there
tenderly teacher
open you hold the legs
red
a rock
my heart is laid across
blue
the ocean
blue
the sky
the big bang
is banging in those eyes
everytime they flash
worlds are born again,
upon
the white eye of
rageful horse,
green the grass tucked under
snow the belly of infant fawn.
stacks of art and books with ideas,
grow up out of the concrete floor,
hard backs and color plates,
twisting up our calves quietly climbs literary ivy,
where it starts is where it lands
the universe, it loves to,
it pours freely out her pupils.