Boulder Creek by Cosmography

and brown like
           morning coffee
                    pouring and pouring itself

forward, forward
            pulling along sticks, leaves
                     detritus.

The old, old rock
            good place to sit
                     dangle feet in water

watch splash of
            water meeting
                     rock--

I remember Joanne
            Kyger poem about
                    a stone from Boulder Creek.

I remember Lorine
            Niedecker's "Paean to Place":
                    'And the place was water.'

The water flows
            downward, goes
                     back to its source.

I flow with it, know
            I can sit
                    by it without thought

of anything pulling
           at me or making
                    me do.

The water flows
           from mountains, from reservoirs
                    full of melted snow--

not for swimming, those reservoirs
           but my inner
                   reservoir

I draw from
           like Lorine's
                   'fish and fowl'.

I draw from the water, sip
            pristine liquid,
                    laugh.

And if my reservoir
            is drained
                    how to refill it?

Can I draw from
            the mind-reservoir
                    and not deplete it?

Can I sit by the water
            and take nothing
                    from it?

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WomenOutside_09

                                                                       Self Portrait

                                             No lay off from this condensery.--Lorine Niedecker

                                             Peach floor, pale yellow walls

                                             art teacher sits patiently

                                             waiting for end of hour.

                                             Be here in mundane space

                                             or fly away imaginary--I fly

                                             away, smoke a Rothman or

                                             Galoises on the Seine.

                                             Sky's cloudy grey back in art room

                                             pictures of van Gogh, Matisse, Picasso.

                                             My self portrait in colored pencil, cartoonlike,

                                             stares back.

                                             Lips funny shaped, nose nonexistent

                                             eyes electric blue, cheeks rosy--

                                             she wears fuzzy fuschia sweater

                                             hair pulled up in ponytail.

                                             She is me at 29, compassionate

                                             wanting to succeed, she is shy--

                                             I mean I, I drew this image

                                             I am the I of this portrait.

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