mother of geometry

you see i am the mother of geometry; i made a mail organizer [rectangles & numbers]--

i got some new fabric, to curtain & pillow this house--more rectangularity(but when??)

i saw my own blue shadow plus baby, next to corn shadows, & thought,what shapes!--

yet i drew in happy shapelessnesses with finn, well mostly this was him--

i witnessed the end-signal of winter in this dead corn and its parallelogrammed-out shadow hallway infinity--

i saw these plops of paint, oozing out of shape, ready to be painted with--

and then i saw this boy painting the plate (content with moon-shape)--

in a star death shirt to be sure! cosmology, mythology (and to be someday,now, made into a smock)--

and then to witness this wiry ball of corny hair in the crystalline snow (billions of trapezoids are what we see, i believe)--

and finally to stack blocks with this boy, square upon round square upon square that is cubed-- (mother of geometry)---

that our excitement is what carries us [whale-barn]

something strikes me about a barn that i pass everyday in the driving that i do now. i go around the bend, i see it, something strikes about its white peeling agedness, and i always think of a poem right then, and then [now] i can never remember it.

this is why i want to make a movie about everything i see in iowa as i drive along, especially those old pregnant and forgotten whale-barns.

a barn is the whale of the midwest in its landlock.

a whale is the barn in its seabind.

because of you reading this, i figured out how to write it.

[the imprint of a laugh in the book of birth]

a year is made of small yearish pieces called minutes or days or even weeks

yearlong projects i wish to complete by doing small things all the time

*embroidered words everyday or every other day [quilts]
*weekly recordings of me & finn/// sounds, music, poems,
him learning language (for example, the song "hi!" we wrote on piano)[songs]
*weekly vision exchanges with 3 friends [communings]
*of love i should be so full/ book of birth [poems]

[incremental]

a poem for me and a poem for thee somehow r'uther cuz i'm thirty-three

Questions for my 33rd year

dear year,

in my 33 will a wonderful little baby come our way via my [currently hollow] uterus?
dear 33 the year, will you be when i make music again?
will I complete vision projects with friends & feel strength in that?
also will I begin a mama café plus and adjoined to a family-creative-playplace, which would help build community, perhaps earn me a living, and all the while be something that I so wholeheartedly believe in?
33, in you perhaps my first book is published in you, you year!
also I wonder in general how we’ll get by in you, 33. just in general. O I suppose how we always have. what's/how’s that?
and. what about. can you, thirty-three, even calculate what my finn will do & say & be??
and will I:::::::::: be able to do this research & writing on
motherness, poetry, birth, quakers, whitman, this research, this research
that I, weirdly enough,long to do?

I like the utterance, and the idea, of yes.

the cookie eater

my funny valentine

valentine's day walk (happy love day my friends!)

peter & finn & q-dog across the snowy field

up through the tree in our front yard

sign at the border between our backyard & the wooods!

snow shadows

where we get to in a 40-minute walk from our house