images again, poems, stream of consciousness

a green blade is turning into a leaf is turning to bamboo
green bamboo
above is someting like the head of shafts of wheat
the tops of ears of corn, the silken strings
helicopters above the fields
it's getting ready to rain
there are clouds above and you are looking up
locusts to the harvest
a spade and red earth
a torn rag for a bandana
humid and sweaty, you know the rain
will dilute the salt
thatched roofs close to mountains
i don't know where i am
but i see the woman in the house
crushing corn
children running down narrow dirt trails
not many because there is a storm coming
they are told to come back into the house
sun will be setting and it will be dark
lights are on, they are searching for something or someone
coke in the cockpit
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pink parasol with a tightly ruffled fringe
my little pony dancing on the cover
blue with a smiling face
her dogs running around her feet,
charging forward, turning circles, coming back to their mistress
tongues wagging
and she leans over and gives them each a pat on the head,
to be fair, because she doesn't want one of them to be jealous
or feel lonely for her affections
maryjanes, the sun is shining,
she sings a silly song
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so many fingers reaching for you
so many nails, and you know which ones are manicured
which are filed by the owner,
which nails are bitten,
which one broke,
which nails are chipped
and the colors are running together
fingers reaching out for you and you can't see the faces anymore
just their fingers, and not one hand at a time
there are no fewer than eight hands now
tapered fingers turn into beeswax candles,
twisting, dripping, the flame at the end
burning
lifts the darkness enough
all is black pitch black except for the luminated fingers
one traces her nail straight down your back
as the curtain is torn like the veil in the temple
top to bottom
shekinah
the fingers are now cut off and placed
into several menorahs that line the mantle
she will burn the fingernails down
to nothing
they all have their place, and she gives them respect
as they serve a purpose
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a lady bug is a beetle
or a kind of beetle i think
i want to see a beetle collection
and collection of
jewel scarabs behind glass,
pinned to the back,
with a lady bug right in the middle

they were there, on the wall
lights out, the scarabs pay homage to the beetle
coming alive with the pins and the needles
face center to the ladybug
the origin of their species
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a white picket fence
is a tom sawyer fence
a bunch of stakes held together with wire
he convinces others to paint white
for fun
and they do, and call it
a white picket fence
until a group of women in gibson girl dresses,
white cotton and lace,
reach in and pull it apart to raise the stakes
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get to the point in the beginning
i say to myself
instead of making a statement meant to sound
ever so much more profound after proliferation
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a group of children play ring around the rosy
it's the one in the red dress who falls down first
pulling everyone along
with her enthusiasm, even the little boy with the broken nose
who forgets about his nose and starts planning for the future
and he's 7 years old
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after the leaves are gone
i'll still be here after
the cards have fallen
i'll be staid
with nothing to hold me down
i hold everything together
i will settle down when
they understand i cannot be shaken
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something is different, something unseen moving
i can't explain it but just sense it
too afraid to say very much when i say everything
it's a lucky penny
the one that gets to be stuck on you
i see you looking at me too, before i actually see you
i sense it
nothing needs to change
everything is fine
the penny was stuck on me first
maybe it's the piece of ass penny
i wasn't even sitting. i was lying down and it rolled
over to me to get stuck on my ass.
you picked it off and stood up and
there was a penny on your ass.
it could be a sign. maybe a lucky sign.
maybe it's just the piece of ass penny
that symbolizes everything
regardless, it's still a lucky penny
to be stuck on either one of us.
that penny got a free ride.
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esperanza, in the spring
you will be okay
i see songs coming from your mouth
like zinnias, roses, and mariposas
you know this snow will be the worst one
the kitchen curtains are thin
you are rich
the darling bud of may will be yours again
esperanza, in the spring
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