Sunday, July 18, 2010


Cleaning out my suitcase
my tightly packed clothing still held the damp smell of home
so before it could be stolen by the thirsty sunbleached high desert air
I held the fabric up to my face
inhaled the water
the history
the struggle
I come from
towering trees and dense tangled ground cover 
encroaching enveloping
sleeping lakes that freeze over in the winter
beckon for entry in the too hot summer
green that softens lulls my eyes wide open
humid air so thick it saturates my bones
deer that consider me before they run on nimble hooves
willows that tower above but weep all the way to the ground
oaks that mock my arms wide open girth
and winters
winters that seem like they will never end
that the sun will never shine again
heavy endless grey
I come from
and a fierce longing
as green as the damn grass is
its gotta be greener over there
or over there
maybe Its greener in the high desert way the hell over there
I come from
rotting wooden houses dank basements too many layers of paint
and ends that didn't meet
I ran from
men w/ baseball bats down the streets of swillburg
I ran thru
the woods of mendon  dodging tree limbs and hopping roots
I ran like
Hungry deer through the streets and into backyards with less and less space to call home
I ran toward anything that looked like love
I ran

it’s the kinda place ya run from

where waiting suitcases hold the promise of sun
it’s the kinda place ya grow fiercely proud of coming from
unpacking dense tangled stories
I went to
wrap my arms around that blue collar city
I went to
weep on the ground
wade through the murky lakes of memory
I’m the first to confess
I come with
heavy w/ history
and home.