Hey, Read A Poem Whydonchya!

I Have No Business Here 

A  collection of poems by Brigitte Emmons 

A Better Man 

A better man did woo

The four hectares sold as ten

Half that number would have been enough 

If only lifeguard ropes were red

And risks weren't cut like cliffs.


So up is down, and down is up

Her mirror-wheat never moved with the wind

A hint: tickled pink to rubbed raw 

Rain and sun tried, too

Fooled blue.


And on the grass he thought was air 

He dropped three times to meet the sea

Once for love

Once for hope, and 

Once for relief.  

A Remembering

No more strict or lenient than nature intends, 

            All my grandmothers, brave as they are

            Cannot drink the water 

            They don't understand how it ended

            Braided too tight to vanish completely  

            Now just mumbo-jumbo


           All my children, bright as they are 

           Do not understand why the emerald pool 

           Tucked up behind the cliff dwelling 

           Remains roped off from the public 

           KEVBO WAS HERE, CLASS OF '84 ROCKS

           The tree did not survive 


           All my memories, soured as they are 

           Still hold dear the whispering fireflies  

           Conspiring to take over the night 

           And live forever

All things end. 

All Wars are Religious Wars 

Debris 

Such a funny word 

Like bris, but not 

Like twisted metal 

And stiff whispers

"Our thoughts and prayers are with you." 

While you march on, toward landfill bodies 

Also killed by the thoughts and prayers 

Of heretics who were never going with you. 


War 

Such a funny word

Like we were, but not 

Like a hate so deep it burns the breasts of 

Mothers who want only to go in your place

Humanitarian aid could've been a casserole

But now is water, dropped with caution

To quench or rinse cave paintings 

Of generations that stop with you. 


God

Such a funny word 

Like gone, but not 

Like a hand reaching out, desperado gray 

Just beyond the border fencing 

Where soldiers watch 'til grasping stops 

All fleshy flags point up 

What heavens will want you after this? 

What Valhalla shores could welcome? 

I ask, who will you be on this day but 

Debris in the War against God.    

 

Amazing

Was blond, but now can see 

How fit as a fiddle

Was round in the middle

Quite invisible 

To crows, who don't wipe their feet 

And peck apart the miles-per-gallon 

Delusions, pushing

That sloppy jalopy 

To buy a ticket to a new horizon


She calls it Iceland to keep them away

From the black sands

And turquoise depths

Where finally, finally, finally 

Wisdom can let herself down

And giggle, oh the continents

That she can connect 

Just by using her soft arms 

And Grace. 


And Another Thing (A Poem About Cows)

I never spoke cow, 'til now

Patchwork busy, I see her

Sharp hips poke, like knuckles

Like clothespins on a crooked line

She swats a bee with a shit-soaked tail 

Sweet pleasure, ruminating along.


Presently, more cows come to chat

'Bout this and that 

'Bout how their fat is more about being big boned than anything else

It is a brief exchange, under the radar

Dressed benign. 


Methane floats, like root beer

Feed me, breathless

I don't slow down, you bellow 

Flies and acid rain and no memory of life

Before, when we only gave to each other 

Suspicious sideways glances. 


Brown cow!

You've come for the ozone!

Cunning cheeseburgers and wallets, all

Lakes of salty broth for me to drown in 

Well someone should, discuss the deadlock 

Beseeched heifers and multiplying me. 


I've crossed a field, confirmed that

My avoided life won't register

On the Noble-Scale, is co-insurance and taxes 

And plastic dreams and chewing 

Why can't I get a decent haircut when I pay a goddamned fortune and bring photos 

My sharp hips poke, like knuckles.    

Breakfast With Tiffany

Piping hot

On gibbous buns

Breakfast bells

Are ringing 


While mornings push 

The mountain air

O'r pores still wet

From clinging


Songs of young

And songs of old 

Will know of which 

I'm singing

Canoes

Simple, silent

Mine is forged of elements, too 

Cellulose and water

Agree, for a time, as one 

To take the strokes we learned

From skimming books

Swiftly, minor variances like functions

Accumulate until I get the picture 

All of us in vessels

Separate, we had only now 

To practice for the birth and death 

Of rivers rushing, peppered with canoes

And people portaged like metaphors 

Preoccupied, what else could you do? 

Could I do? 

We did put best and I'm not mad

Just glad I floated here

For one sweet second

Beside what was familiar, and also

Ever changing 

Cold

Can cold radiate, she asked already

Googling

Next to me in the truck 

Can it change a lightbulb?

Can it make tea?

Who cares, it's just 

Cold   


Can cold radiate, I wonder later

Pondering

While scraping a windshield 

Can it give off a feeling?

Can it cause pain? 

Who cares, that I'm red 

Hot


Cold radiates, I decide too late

Answering

In hateful comments

About the tent city under the bridge

Trapped under a dome of steam

Bouncing around

The homeless souls

Indifferent

And so, 

Cold

Consciousness

Fox scratches, his right ear has needs

Moss pauses, her forest has been singing 

Soft-throated dirges renew old water 

Vibrating, in rearranging mud patterns


These hymns of death are layered Earth

A looping cry, our mother's birth 

In new fawns and new dawns

That grow, imploding into light stars 

To burn within us 


This breaks Me, crushes thoughts of Me

Bones buckles under bows of 

Balsam scented understanding

I make a tea, and put it in our body


My sweet communion here

So fleeting, the seasons want to teach 

A morphic dance, I sense no lonely Ones

Inside my soul, we've just begun 

To be it all, in stillness. 

1/25  

Connected, A Short 

Talk, talk, talk - I always do

To justify how you sleep through 

My starry dreams and sunrise hues

Pretending it wasn't expected.


I tell them you have a brain disease

That lets you dictate as you please 

Which hours to ruin and how to freeze 

Sweet joy from my corner, dried hopeful.


I must fly first into a room 

Assess the vibe, set up a loom

That spins excuses for your gloom 

Exhausted, so anxious on your behalf.  


For I need you to be okay

Despite the most horrific way 

I let you eat me. 

Desert Hallucinations

Rinpoche, I'm tired of these stones

All shaped like Idaho

It's the same, all the same, repeating 

My skin as hot as lava under the sun.


Rinpoche doesn't want to hear it 

Then look away, he snaps

Aren't those your eyes in that head of yours 

Heated and alive 

So Be That!


Rinpoche, I'm afraid to be abandoned 

Good-byed, the lone witness 

At the end of all days 

Unconsoled. 


Rinpoche wants my full attention 

He taps my knuckles with a cholla branch 

You are already suffering and doing fine

It all happens, unevenly 

Sweetened by bodhichitta 

So Be That! 


Rinpoche, I've distracted myself 

Looking for signs 

Of happiness and meaning between the cracks

And collisions I barely intended

Have I gone too far for Concern?  


Rinpoche is impatient

Being happy and having meaning are not the same

Your moving feet are a parable about 

Preciousness, suffering and impermanence

So Be That!


Tomorrow we will walk some more 

And you will become gratitude. 

Experience Comes from Making Bad Decisions

Not life threatening 

In hope, please open your eyes 

Hardwired along the edge, flat footed 

Pretending, you do not fly

Until you do!

Like tree seeds turning, and 

Lead ball bearings

Scattering, the blood soaked blades of grass 

Will grow 

Food Is Love

It's hot, whipped and high

It's meaty, salty, dry 

I scrape the bowl and plate it up

I wash your fork and favorite cup 

You smile and touch your belly

I rub my hands together and lean in for the kiss 

Dessert, anyone? 

Here's What Ya Do

Like wilting leaves 

And passing clouds

And the smell of apples

Come back. 


Like breaching whales 

And mountain goats

And brave new worlds 

Fly high.


Like campfire tales

And recipes

And graying bones

Pass on.  

How Not To Die of A Brokern Heart 

Sweep

Hard, do all your cleaning aggressively

Pull out the dust and the dead skin

From under the tapestry

Toss it into the air like confetti


Shop

Hard, for an overpriced something 

Marvel at all the pointless detailing

Laugh at its ridiculousness

And impermanence 

Then, return it for a full refund 


Squeeze

Hard, the giant tree behind the barn

Beg her to tell you why this happened

And how it feels to lose a limb

And not let go of the earth 

Then close your eyes and imagine her burning


Surrender

Hard, to the sound of a single heartbeat

And only one set of lungs

Laugh at the ridiculousness of your own devotion

To impermanence

An then close your eyes

And feel yourself burning

I Had Some Rocks Delivered - A Taoist Parable 

Some say ya either got it or ya ain't 

Alight with joy and wonder

You here for me? 

      Could be! 'Nevah know! 


The day's teacher, old as dirt, toothless

Chocolate labs for eyeballs

Chasing questions off the grass

Is a personal check alright?

    Could be! 'Nevah know! 


No concrete came that day, only rocks

For me to shape as I pleased 

His lesson revved, ready to deliver 

    Might rain. Might noht.

    Dinnah time? 

    Could be! 'Nevah know!

    If the Russians don'attack 

    And 'donrunoutta gas 

    I'll make it home to the missuz 

    'Nevah know!


All options, perfectly acceptable

His life is boxes with red ribbons

I cocked my head

No more certain than before he came 

It was time to pick my spot 

How about HERE?  Is this okay? 

My brain saw all the wrongs

But the sun had places to go

And so did this marvelous moment 

    Could be! 'Nevah know!

It's Okay

Do you sing to yourself at the break of dawn 

Start each day with a stretch and yawn

Boogie down fifth avenue

In your imagined runway, fair and blue

Do you model patches with attitude

And kiss the clerk who's sometimes rude

And give the jerk the time of day

Make sure red squirrels are a-okay?

There, there. 

Just start with a sandwich, in aluminum foil

And walk it down the street

See the jerk in your favorite shirt

The one that reads 

"He's gone. Seventeen weeks now. I am so lost." 

Hug yourself

Hug yourself 

And hug yourself again.


I'm In A White Dress

I police the shore 

And monitor the propane tanks

I point out sloppy knots

And oil the teak table


I hover

There's too much slack!

Wipe that 'fore it leaves a mark!

On the dream


Someone else is having a turn

Like I did

But not like I did


And so, I walk the property

And opine on the wind's direction

And the price of wood


I am wearing a white dress

And nobody hears me 

I Have No Business Here

What about all that

We can't talk about

While you know

That I know

That you know

How to shoot off 

Your toes, one at a time

Because reaching out would destroy you

Whose turn was it 

Speak truth!

About the pieces of your body 

That you remove to feed, the beast

Is me sometimes when pointing

And so it goes

I have no business here 

Miss Sayward 

Oh, Miss Sayward 

Where did you place

Your century-old opinions 

'Bout toothpicks at the table 

And Thank You Notes 


You packed so quickly 

I was afraid you'd forget 

Your yellow scarf, the trumpet's call 

Announcing your independence 

Should it ever be questioned 


You overfed those cats 

And asked their opinions, but never mine 

"I need her more than she needs me" 

You said, on Christmas Eve 

We both knew what you were talking about 


I loved to watch your pride relax

Melting in a hardy laugh

But only after my talking-to 

About the hand I offered, and you did take

With blue eyes and a flourish 


And on that morning, just two doors down 

It snowed enough to make it new 

We carried you, that one last time 

Through all of our birthdays 

And the names of our children 

And photos of Sam, with respect 


Oh, Miss Sayward 

I saw how you placed 

The chair that faced the setting sun 

And all the earth you kept in your pocket 

Maybe you knew I loved it, too 

And so, you had my opinion


1/25

Organic Matters

Spring loaded

Red, white and blue, woke

Words are the cruelest

Greek chorus 

Of skinless bulbs 

Unhardy, unhappy

When it's warm, mud

Flies, oh!

The revealed fields

Labeled yet untended

Spoiled but alerted 

Everybody is going to die 

Eating righteous air 

Starved for the sun

Like a daughter

Who's long forgotten, naturally 

Growth needed water

Particles 

If it's true 

Then what has meaning

And what is lasting

And why do I buy shares 

Of stocks in you, unproven

Matter is suspended 

See me walking here, tangible 

Flavored and textured

As if it makes a difference

Did we just touch and taste? 

Suffer and waste? 

Looking down when we could

Have seen the sun's moons

Through half-closed, quite temporary 

Eyes made from cells that fathomed 

What I did, too

And yes, my love

It's true   

Sixty Years

He remembers the sound it made

It came to life

Like fire

Eating paper

When light 

Transformed a blackened heart

With promises

Of warmth and futures melting

Loneliness

The quiet hours at her bedside

Were not roses

They were diamonds

That set her path ablaze 

So she could travel there

And leave him

Something In The Way He Moves

It was indirect

Not directed at you

Just direct communication

Set adrift

To be found and translated 


SEND HELP (Stranded)

SEND LOVE (Frightened)   

SEND FAITH (Violent)


It was indirect

Not directed at you

Just meant for someone

Who spends time in the sea

Looking for bottled messages 

To drink from 

Something to Chew On 

It's not like you to eat so much

What coverings

Buried deep 

In acid folds 

Ferment

I wonder how this happened

That you eat words

And I cook words 

And we don't talk at all 

Souls

Take notes

This life is one of many

Learn 

To let go

What was never yours

And never will be

And it's okay to laugh about it

About what?

That you were born knowing

And then you forgot


The Alphabet

I can see her TV from my window

Elmo is teaching "The Letter B"

But she doesn't have children

Let her be

For we are circles on circles 

Of human energy

Be-ing

Maybe she likes the reassurance

Brave. Beings. Breath. 

Has been brought to you by "The Letter B"

So, let her be. 

The Artist 

You're an addict 

Words, inked around your neck 

Revealing freshly tired stories of a life 

Not static enough to hold itself

Still along your backside, this hide

The truths get colored in, instantly

Misspelled, this medium 

Social work-in-progress sleeves, like armaments

So blue, they're green

Light it up and call it art, then

See if I care

Why, but beg my eyes to trace you

Lines, thick and pointless

Narratives aren't fair when 

You get to call everything, in permanence

False  

The Deacon's Tea 

I shunned the lot, freshly unconfused

Like Shakespeare sonnets turned aside

My furrowed brow beguiled, then   

Triggered fear - miles from good 


Oh me, once I did dare to stand 

Beyond the praying heads, horizons came

Not mountains after all!

Just light, where we could collect ourselves 


And right on time you came to call

Baskets of begging, sent to stop me

From pouring tea for anyone with a mouth

Hot concern for my vulnerability


Yet I do love you still, and will

Keep one cup so high, postponed 

Safe from the silhouette of you, now 

An Easter Parade, once my old friend 


Ten million kitchen tables, sincere

Do hold their breath in meditation 

A learning;  just be a slob that sips 

To peace, and taste its understanding  


 

The Fortune Teller 

You, see here! 

Mistake no rule for softness

Not these forces, depleting

Sweet minutes, clustered laurel pink

Held breath prolonged only one tenth 

Begotten inevitable.


Weeds grew, bent true

Toward all the stars imploded

When yesterday was fifty years

Echoes just the same, now strange

In halls once built to hold

You gave your arms for the cause. 


Consent wooed hard 

She and he, then he and she 

They will go with mine

Distracted moments did sing against

Gated ruins are still ruins 

Oh, hush now- hush now, and return

Wrapped in forever.   

The Lunch Date

I made it! Better late than ugly!  

I know someone exactly like that. 

I remember the time when I...

I want everything on the side. 

I love how my job doesn't feel jobby.

I don't let those things get to me. 

I said oat milk. 

I went dairy free last spring. 

I wouldn't cut my own hair. 

I use a straw to drink my coffee. 

I have perfectly white teeth, see?  

I can't stay, I have a class. 

I never burn, I tan.  


She pauses to suck coffee through a straw. 


Shocked from the silence she expects me to do something about, words form.


There once was a gold finch who pecked at his reflection until he died. 


I don't get it. 


I know. 

This Pain, Will It Pass? (I Saw Her Darkest Day) 

She whispers something

And pushes off 

The shoreline

It is a blaming finger

That follows the unfamilar 

Landscape is heartbreak

She pushes off

With hopeful strokes

Faithfully knowing

Love means

She pushes off

From that place

Since no one stands 

On shifting ground

It is better to float

Where fire stops

And waiting begins

She whispers something

And pushes off

The Red Cape, My Stoic Friend 

Guardian of all the children 

Without tongues, just eyes 

Absorbing nasty days, awaiting  

The World's First Born

Your boots hit the concrete much too hard 

You are forty arms, all swords

Signing, sweeping, swift 

Incomplete, completely 

Alone with bleeding

Not one soul can know, no   

For this is yours to bare, stripped

So you say to yourself, The Only

One to hear. 

That Sinking Feeling 

Of babies in bubbles

And giggling fathers

Carrying warm water in 

Palms


Of pans piled high 

And sauces gone dry 

While wine is rinsed with 

Songs


Of blood-soaked skin

From the bleeding within

And the everythings that went 

Wrong 


Two Fires

Crack!

The fire rages, inside

Snoring dogs soaked

Monologues, in total darkness

Your lips move

Channeling a warrior 

Who has never lived here 

Crack!

Why don't you bend over

Backwards, 'til both tongues touch 

To lick hot words

You said you'd say

Next time, and you give windshields 

A piece of your mind

Crack! 

We Have The Same Hair

Corkscrew curls on a pointy face

A heart of gold, at one with Grace

Why are you a teacher? 

Why am I a mother? 

Why can't I stop 

Staring?

Is he yours? you ask 

No, he has always only belonged to himself

But, we have the same hair

Well, There's THAT

2023 was a shit sandwich 

Served with a side of shit chips 

And a shit pickle

And what did all of that have to do 

With me


What can anyone do about a rough year

There's that nervous chuckle

And that blessings recount

It can always be

So. Much. Worse.


That's always gonna be true, ya know

And secretly, I mean 

Come on

I'm wearing pajamas

On a Tuesday afternoon 


Knock it off

That chronic positivity in the face of adversity

I can't down that

Overblown, saccharine sweet

Shit milkshake

What's New? 

Pussycat

Pussyfoots

Dodging questions 

Elevator speech 

Sound bites 

Work best 

Avoiding  

Tip-toe through 

Clichéd gardens

Nipped too early 

Control the narrative

When Green Turns Gold

We're all waiting

The fir trees always

Get the best seats

Their arms are open 

And so are mine

I close my eyes

To watch the show

As all turns pink

Then green

Then gold

Like the cell walls 

That hum along

To a chlorophyll verse

About a morning

That only yesterday

I would've missed

Why Do I Hate Mother's Day? 

Touch,

   Baskets of hands, flowering

   Time and time again

   Bounties all distilled, weigh nothing

   This wisp, who really truly was, still is

   Waiting, not for one second.


See, 

   The offspring, flocks of robot birds

   Mad starvati0on, pecking

   Her execution, a killing off

   More than once

   Clues emerge, like cursive. 


Hear, 

   In one vestibule, at least 

   Obligates pays witness to sisters arriving 

   One million matriarchs, all shield maidens

   Her boycott, loud as thunder 

   Burn it down, and take me home!   

Wolves

Consider what it gives

And what it takes

Being happy for someone

You used to know

I read a book about some wolves 

That hurt each other, to keep the balance

There I am, with binoculars

Studying The Jones

While swallowing as fast as I can

Air and meat 

Am I being killed, or am I killing? 

Time tells

A story about a family

That lived in a valley

And worked as a team 

To rise, after losing a pup

Writer's Block 

Suspicious spider

So daring, dropped 

Her knitted flag to claim 

The land I own, my private thoughts 

Exaggerated because I say so


Eight times, pointing 

Picky filaments, my Gettysburg 

Of misty morning penny dreadfuls   

Book-lung breaths on a fallow field 

Dare me to think something

Let's tell it like it is


Which is to say, I killed her

Juicy morsel guesses 

When? When? When? 

I already told you I wasn't busy 

And that I should've been 

Not here, in neck deep water 

Soaking like stew beef 


My mind, like flies, on the red-eye 

Schedule, a terror word 

To drain the creepy joy 

Do say! Do say!

What'd all been said, a web 

Of fear? Or jealousy?

As if motive matters 

When all you want is in here


You Hide, I'll Count

One Mississippi, Two Mississippi

I'm in the business of saving wet paper 

It's forever

And it's flood stories


One Mississippi, Two Mississippi

I'm in the business of counting vast deltas

And it's never

Like flowing capillaries


One Mississippi, Two Mississippi

I'm in the business of making you happy

And it's clever

How I can hold my breath

You Poor Thing

She was beautiful

Like Nefertiti 

Coughing on her own concerns 

'Bout fading beauty 

And oldness that hadn't even arrived yet 

How many years did I waste 

Feeling wretched for what?

Only lucky girls get

Too busy to enjoy 

What is, words of comfort

Are a waist-line

My own age spots, a constellation 

Of a warrior woman 

With an arrow 

Aimed right at her 

You Were A Rocketship, For Patrick 

It wasn't like you

As an us, you would've fought 

But now, just you, you're resting 

Leaning back on soft heels, touching 

All the things you loved but sold

For extra cash, when times were tough 


There is a place where you have gone

And I was not invited 

At first, it made me happy 

You were never okay in that skin

But now, I am scalding lonely


When we were children, you once said 

"The day will come when I will fly

And you will see the afterburn

Like particles, big heat from a sorry son

Free at last!"

I never believed you'd do it 


But there you are, watching chaos float 

Like party trash in a swimming pool 

How you can be so still, means only 

That you are watching us 

Through the window of a rocketship 

And I feel the shame of wanting to stay

12/24