Hotel night swimming

(Palm Springs, Calif.)

How could I not

Swim

In this hotel pool?

This pool was silent

And still

And bright last night,

All things I would like to

Be.

Besides,

On that January evening,

My Minnesota skin was

Thirsty

For that communion of

Breeze and

Water.

To float with my

Face cupped by

Water

And watch the half-moon

Rise to the east

And the sky

Pinken behind

Desert mountains to the west

Would be

Describably

Lovely.

There was an obstacle, however.

A business conference,

That I was a part of,

Had just let out,

And pairs and quads of

Men

Were clustered at tables

On the pool patio.

I would not make a

Spectacle of myself.

I would pad silently

In bare feet on cool concrete.

Walking like a yogi,

Sure of my back and limbs,

With a towel tucked around my trunk.

At the furthest corner of the pool,

I would step down

And down into the water,

And at the last possible moment,

I would flick the towel off

And plunge into the

Dappled turquoise,

And stroke-and-glide,

Stroke-and-glide,

Skimming along the blurry white bottom

As far as I could

Before my

Anonymous,

Drench-darkened head

Would break the surface,

And I would breathe.

I did it.

I swam like I had imagined.

And somehow,

The waft of cigar

And the boozy air

And the muffled rumble of the men’s voices

As I drifted

With just my face breaking the surface

Was an unexpected pleasantry.

And I think

No one

Noticed me

But me.

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Covering the television screen

(In a hotel room in Palm Springs, Calif.)

I had to close the

TV

Into its cabinet

This morning.

I had left it open

All night.

Had angled the

TV

Toward the bed

To watch

People talk

In crackled

Voices

About

The shooting.

So the black

Vacuous

Silent

Screen

Had kept a sort of

Watch

Over me

As I slept in

This stranger’s room.

But this morning

I knew it was

Time

To close the

Black screen

Into its cabinet.

I don’t own a

TV.

For 10 years I have

Lived

Without one.

When I say that to people,

I say it

Gingerly,

I’m not allowed

To have opinions

On most things

Anymore

Most

Especially

Your

TV-watching.

But for me,

The black screen

Doesn’t do much.

I tended to

Cover it

With scarves

And cloths

When I owned one

When it was

Off.

But hotel rooms.

That’s different.

I’m always

Excited

To turn on the

Screen

When I get to a

Hotel room.

And then,

Dismay.

There’s still

Nothing to watch.

I’m not committed to shows,

Or habituated to the

Rhythm

Of the talkers.

I get drawn in,

Of course.

I have a

Human’s

Brain.

But.

But.

Off.

——————–

We’re going to buy a

TV.

The kids clamor for it.

And sports.

We watch sports.

We’ll do it when

The basement’s

Finished,

And put it down

There,

Surround it with

Puffy couches

And ration it

For the kids.

I think I will,

Though,

Drape a cloth

Over the black screen

When it’s

Off.

———————————–

(After writing this entry, I opened the cabinet

And pulled out the

TV

And turned it on.

Naturally.)

Vertical writing (not poetry)

I want to tell you

Why

I write this blog

Vertically.

I feels it wants some

Explanation.

It looks like a

Formatting

Error.

But it’s not.

I wrote like this

As a girl

In my journals.

(I never called them

“Diaries.”)

I wrote like this

Because I like how it

Emphasizes

Words

If I want it to.

I wrote like this for

Many years

In my girl’s bedroom in

High school.

In my semi-adult

College apartment

Bedrooms.

This is how I

Wrote.

More

Down

Than across.

I never called it

Poetry.

Sometimes I called it

Verse.

To distinguish from

Prose.

And I think

It works

In this medium.

The Internet.

I think

Down,

Vertical,

Scrollable on a smartphone

Works.

So I wonder:

Could the practice of poetry

And verse

Surge

On smartphones

And break

Like a wave?

It would be

Lovely.

Blog, take three: finding time

I’ve been wanting to start this

Blog

For a long

Time.

I have tried it before.

Twice.

And stopped.

Embarrassed.

Unsure.

I’ll try again,

And maybe again after that.

What stops me is

Time.

(Or that’s what I tell myself.)

I don’t have

Time.

Who has

The time?

“Make

Time

For it.”

I’ve said that before.

But I can’t

Make

Time.

Create time.

That is beyond by

Very limited

Powers.

And anyway.

I like the days and

Nights

Just as they are.

I suspect that

The way to

Find

Time

Is to

Slow down

And give myself a chance

To look for it.

I found some today.

A 15-minute

Surprise.

A bright gift

In the still-dark morning.

I’ll take it.

Thank you.