bree
bree grew up in cleveland heights, performing music and poetry.
she is the founder of GreenPandaPress, which produces local chapbooks
and anthologies of poets and artists;;and sings jazzy-bluesy
style poems in the local band BiRdcAkE.
breestings@yahoo.com
One,
. .Two,,
. . .Three breaths,,,
- (I am alone^)
my feet are wet and happy
in the grass,.]
Drawersfull of the Unfolded
and the Endless Scrub
and me, less than eager
to pull on the yellow rubber gloves
-with a snap!
Get to it, I say!
Several minutes later, I'm legs
akimbo
sitting beside the vacuum,
mindless
- braiding the Long Cord
smoking a reverie to Betty Carter
then later
shaping my own notes into order//
sculpting bark//
sounding my own heart's arbor.
Trees leafing
- mimes the While Away
- hair pattern, preaching carpet;
//unswept the Still Lake//
.odd peacefulness.
Masturbating the Still Sit by the Ocean in Maui, Now
Cleve.
- The coze of a wind chair
and knowing boats having nothing to do with
in their steady stare deeply into the dank
churn tub that is a thousand many thousand beyond
cleaning
))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))
that is cleanliness as a painting is itself
- and dresses quick^
that the palms appear cartoon pooches
(pooches in a slow dumb entertaining)
wag then waits the look see
not shame like eyes.
Grass walls up and contains
. . dresses fall
. . . . (and the tongue behaves.)
Thin as fog
round breasts who have only streetlamps now
and a tattered
cave brick mud still churn tub wind chair, wide.
War Talk
throwing the constituion around,
watch the words/
read them in a forest of sound;
o song of memory, the soft bleeding of bark in
rain
post heat ;and in a slow seethe
brave the crunch walk of those previously
enslaved
now ruminating; in waves
reassuring
outside{ of word in row _carved and weathered
alleys
decorate the terrace : gaudy. old-style. italics.
read the graves.
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