arriving, portland maine

darlingbig

cigaretting up
on the fire escape
it’s january first.

renter’s insurance
our names
in ink
in target with a big red
shopping cart and furniture
folded up, undone
driving home lost
familiarity a gift
quiet
now just me and darling
the cat now
for a little
while

shoveling snow
is a lot of work
and there’s one paperwhite
bloom
in the window

walking through town
rosy coat to knees
up high right
on congress
local sprouts a house
mug a buck
twenty five across
the street a general store
i liked,
memory isolated –
soon went out
of business
after
that day i went in
looking for a screwdriver.

snow and sidewalks
made of red
bricks. napping not
knowing how
to get started
staring at new pale
walls fumbling
forgetting
things

leaving providence

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things in boxes
that used to hold pears
and i am scrubbing cabinets
window panes hallway
floors thinking i’ve hated
this house thinking
yes, i’ve loved
this house

at work cleaning out
another locker, another
family now floating –

wade
with the blue eyes,
kind seth, and leanne
who always said,
“what a nice lady.”
the sues, and steve just
something about that man
i loved

u-haul, strange
to own furniture and everything’s
loaded and i don’t even stop
for a last look i just
completely forgot

new york city, june 2010

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lines
of morning
corner entrance –
café
grumpy, then
el beit back
patio,
danielle

summer
somehow
though found
a new
(expensive)
sweater, sighing
this weather’s months
away still but
the colour the way
it’s woven (!) laughing
she says –
“it’s okay it’s
a good one it’s
your new york
sweater.”

scented
sunscreen,
i am walking
like i’ve lived
here for years past
stoops, people
strewn,
a casualness
pretending
i could know them
past potted
begonias
assorted herbs past
delis and diners
little italy
walking

in a dress, my
hair turned
over
in a bun, we
with sarah
in squares –
times, herald
one of those
tiny tables
middle
of the street
her accent
taking me there
together
reminiscent our
english village
and waitressing –
what that was
like and has anyone
heard from aude
(?)

expressways
and i think of
brooklyn queens,
an album i confess
i never listened to.
jacob riis beach
is not as nice
as fort tilden,
i hear
sunburn, rosy
back swimming
in the pacific
in a dress.
ocean thinking
actually
wanting to find
seaglass, pale
those pieces how
gentle
they’ve turned
back home
on north henry –
milkshakes
and aloe,
suntired napping.
then quickly
on the bike down driggs
down twelfth down
kent
avenue, and

there’s a tree
in mccarren park
one i’m beneath
and come back
to a tree it
means something
this one,
to me.

new years eve, 2010

swiss beer fondue
german champagne
bûche du noël

small unpackings
the necessary ones
forks and plates
plugging in lamps
arranging
the living room
our mattress still
in the center you
asleep and i’m nudging
whisper hey it’s almost
midnight-

july 17th, 2006

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asleep on top of something thin
to music, and
woke up in fever
the window, shade
in places it wasn’t
before, dimmer, wild
field backyard

house alone
washed over, it ran
and tripped
over me this
napping dream,
waking to a hush

kitchen, toast
through the rubbish
looking, something
realized i wasn’t quite
ready to throw

august 5th, 2010

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“already
my body is a twilight: solid. gold
at the edge of a larger darkness.
but outside
my window
a summer day is beginning. apple trees
appear, one by one. light is pouring
into the promise of fruit.”
– eavan boland

roger williams park
afternooning
in the swans
paddling
on a lake

walking
japanese gardens
lunching
pita and raita
yellow plums lemon
cookies

lily pads little
bridges, your
camera up close –
blue dragonfly.
swans the ducks
they are brown and we
are feeding them
pepitas we
are strolling
just strolling

in evening
wearing red
yarn tied
up in hair
because i miss some things
about myself
sometimes.

we are reading
the “grean tee” email
couches, taking
turns with pauses
elaborations
together remembering
a beginning
a bedtime
story that one of peter
and wendy yes
that one.

loft

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loftstudiobig

moving day
rachela’s loft
making walls
of bedsheets
floral, calico
i remember
there are birds called wendies

shopping cart sounds
in night, and morning
bus ride, LAX
steetlight fire
flies pass on windows
and the palms
like black balloons

summer warms in february
1st street to glendale
overheating car green
leaking to the curb
groceries, immigrants
cans of beans
kidney, pinto

friend in red, singing
1920’s roxy
heart i was driving there –
the unknown theatre –
lost in hollywood, that
drumming melodic pedro
and his lion

pretty sure that was the night
i in white and you
said you know you look
an angel

philadelphia songs

philadelphia

washington square, twice
sore ankles
streets named after trees
i wanted to sit by
the delaware river
think about those bridges
bright yellow in
pittsburgh

los angeles, 2007

rachelkirsmetro

melancholy play
hollywood
metro, sierra villa
park and ride
lolita

autumn, rhode island

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swan point, cemetery
leaves like butter
flies twirling
in air, as girls do
in pretty dresses.
and the sugar maples
they are lit up.

to johnston,
a patch, picking
a long island cheese
a cinderella

how to keep
this autumn
little shivers
nose sniffles
and you say my hair
sometimes
is the colour
of copper

los angeles, 2010

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meganpregnant2big

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steve picks me up
grey toyota, hair
coloured
of california daytime.
sirens loud,
surrounding.
to highland park, ash
street, to megan’s stomach
stretching to hold
something round, like
the sun’s 
inside.

baby names –
elouise or pony.
freaks and geeks
potato salad
pinkberry

late mornings, afternoons
i think, hymn
california – cotton
woods, juniper
golden hills, everything
dry, but ripe how badly
i wanted to leave
four years, two years
ago, now sitting
looking around missing
it all

bending 110 freeway
taco trucks
citrus

we are driving to altadena
wind blowing the hollow
in my ears, and the one story
bungalows pass
like a filmstrip
with wind chimes
and tired paint.

cheese store of silverlake
the little alley of fairbanks
place, a place
of her own, a breakfast
nook, cats, something
stitched, big red
poppy, leaning
against the wall.

a patio, a view
you can even see
the hollywood sign.
the front room is dim
a record playing
couch low, we sit
and she tells me
in a maroon dress
what happened
her weeks
on heroine.

outside it is bright
she is shading her eyes.

meadowlarks
small sorrow
pilgrim
enduring
recover
sequoia

maine, january 2012

5big

field notes
yellow threaded quilts
groceries
champagne
copycats
clouded
pinhole

at last, snow
plows fumbling
down streets

a memory theatre
things by my bedside
teabags, barrettes
things in the corner
all the same colour
suitcase, type
writer wooden box
bright pale blue, there-
like siblings.

snow funny under
in my navy madeline
coat, on ice shuffling
today missing
my dad.

memories of the future
how remembering one thing
is at least two
things.

monet- boulevard st.denis,
argenteuil, in winter (1875)