We have had visitors!

I know because I have been watching you from the other side of the mirror. I like the way you cover your face in expressions - it seems like every day you are inventing new expressions! You must be exhausted from all the inventing you have to do. I would like to say thank you for your visit, and for all your wonderful facial expressions, by sending you a donut to replenish your energy. That way, you can go on inventing forever.

If you would like to receive a donut, please leave a comment on this post, or just mouth the words I WOULD LIKE A DONUT at your computer screen. I will deliver on my promise.

Yours,

Yuliya

got a tanka

i got ten million

dollars in a piggy bank

ready for slaughter

and a bruise big as texas

on my little green eye, yeah

i got a fella

tied and kickin in the trunk

of my car and he

got teeth turning somersaults

up in his head and i got

a pocket fulla

beef jerky got a tanka

gas got a mind to

go to mexico a mind

to go to mexico a

mind to go to mexico a mind

holy holy

My other car is a piano that plays

Chopin preludes on the freeway as I wait

for all our headlights to burn out like stars

or some other natural disaster to end us

or how did that one go again? it's hard

to watch the road when you are trying

to play an instrument you never learned

and the wipers are wiping the notes clear

off the page and you know that in some

far-off country, this rain

would bring the children to the pasture

it would bring the mothers and fathers

to the pasture it would call the cattle

and the geese, the lightfooted trees, the last

of the nonbelievers to the pasture

it would bring them to their knees and kissing

the hem

of some god's robes but please

don't ask so much of us.

we will not open our sunroofs

to your glory. we will not roll down

our windows. oh lord, we simply

cannot bask in the miracle of your holy

holy as it ruins our upholstery

oh lord

lift yr skinny fists like antennas to heaven.

direction

my heart is that frazzled dog walker whose fingers
laced with leashes on the first false day of spring
are coming out of their sockets and running

with the terriers to the fountain
with the bulldogs
to the bare grass with the park avenue
st. bernards to some hallowed ground
still marked
with the scent of autumn squirrels.

somewhere, there are well-trained dogs
playing bridge in dusty silence, their tails
unwagging
and full of secrets, their mouths
plugged with expensive cigars.

let them live
as they know how. our hearts

are pulled
in the direction of birds.

The least resilient of all cockroaches

The least resilient of all cockroaches
is the one that died
in our pantry a month ago
from overeating
or overwanting
a can of peaches he couldn’t open.

I saw him just
the night before, putting
peanut butter footprints
on the ledge and making love
to a she-roach
on the pantry wall. Where he’d been
that night was anyone’s guess:
hula hooping
through the Cheerios, slurping honey
with his honey, dancing slow and easy
through a crowd of prunes.

I wonder what it was that put his feet
up in the air
when he could have survived
a nuclear winter or a collision
with an asteroid or two. Could it
have been that look in her eye
as he strained against the unopenable
can of peaches
in light syrup, which he’d
promised her one January night
when he swore his love could bring down
the moon?

prediction

soon, poems will start to appear on this blog out of NOWHERE

googlemaps says it's only 2,857 miles from LA to williamstown

dear charles,

if i make you a sandwich, and you make mine, we can meet halfway at a truck stop in nebraska. is chicken okay?

yours,

yuliya