Alberta Street dreaming

My latest wonderful world has been Alberta Street, home to pirates and clowns and creatures of the earth who favor bicycles and body ink. For an incredible week I revisited an old dream and entertained the possibilities of Pieroska – an old grocery owned by “the mad russian” named Joe and his wife Elizabet who talked to me for an hour in broken sentences about her Hungarian mother’s legacy and how they cannot sell the building. Instead they’ve let it sit empty and ramshackle and we could see such potential in the high ceilings and storefront space. A church of sorts. The body arts, photography, catering events for last Thursday – a good dream, whole and intact, requiring hard work and willingness. And fallen through today, this dream, due to a lack of trust and uncomfortable mirrors. We retreat to our discomfort zones. How am I like an old multi-millionaire who sits on his wealth and shows up in dirty shirts with grime lines on his neck? Joe’s shithole building could have been beautiful under our ministrations, only he would have needed to let us work our magic, and he didn’t want to after all.
It was a passed dream, not the end of the world.
New places bring revisitings of old, you know? and if you’re me…more poems.
here’s about that:

[oh and in this state of passing
to become a standing wave
awake at rest In the moment]

sweet nostalgia
no more melancholy [because] the golden
past is still ringing
true in my ears. This dream
was a good one. So have been
the others.
I will drink toast after toast
around the head to good friends
sit on porch after porch
with my feet propped up, [laughing] & speculating
the possibilities
this is a golden spot, true –
[just as Eddie the collector, a mad poet exclaimed
as he wandered past the fig tree in the backyard
with the letters in the beds of blueberries
and nasturtiums.]
Erika’s List:
These are the letters I have
[robert’s] the wee cabin, the hammock and mound
of ferns.
This is where I came into this world
A fire divot and characters, all these famous people,
not yet
anonymous. Sitting around a scratch in the backyard
burning wooden letters salvaged
from the dumpster down the block.
Stehl & Kasey & Robert & Erika & I [choosing difficult]
Love is a goddamned magical thing.
And I came back to the world in fits and starts,
wrapped in a cloak on the front porch
writing poems and hooked on
breaking open my heart.

here’s another from that first fall in Bellingham:

Dissention Consciousness

What I know:
I am permeable. I take in
many things. There was a time
before now
when I believed that what I took
in would not harm me.

Sundrop behind the island
the mountains are outlined
in snow and dusk, the bay
is calm, the water glows
a bit pink and the birds rise
off it to circle the sky.

Shoreside, there is a smokestack
a herd of boats in harbor, boxcars
stopped on the train tracks.
I drink my hot chocolate
out of a styrofoam cup.

What it is still hard to believe:
This pink tinged bay is full
of mercury. The smoke from the stack
at Absorption Corp. creeps dank
in my lungs with the right wind.
I don’t know what is in
this hot chocolate either;
the plastic lid I keep raising
to my lips.

I am permeable. I reap the consequences.
I pin down the earth just like
everybody else.
I will be grateful anyways
for the joggers and the cigarette butts
and the dried up leaves. This day
is passing, another will follow.
I will drink it in and breathe it out,
let the implications move me
past remorse into a fierce
love for all of us
who are not safe,
who are not harmless.

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Cascadian wordsmith and reluctant scorpio, with a fondness for honey, trees, and ducks, as well as birds on the wing and orange kitties.

One thought on “Alberta Street dreaming”

  1. short straw taking
    can teach one a thing or two

    maybe how to break them
    or make them bigger by chewing them in the mouth

    short straw taking
    can teach one a thing or two

    like breaking the backs of camels
    and pawing the legs of adolescent girls
    who learn
    to lure
    they learn to fight

    this one here, this jb
    learned a thing or two
    she takes the small straw
    she kicks back with dirty legs
    and lures with with fresh spring rain


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