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Sunday, January 23, 2011

January in California

January in California

January’s daffodils are absurd.
The trees already bud with fall’s dead leaves
still clinging. The giant sycamore dwarfs
all the sweet gums in the neighborhood,
and these, our neighbors, never rake their yard,
a rebellion of sorts, brownie piles heave,
ruffle. Grasses choke asters under eaves,
oranges are suffocated by blue mold.
He and I pull, chop off, prune and collect:
Dandelions, crabgrass, henbit, hawkweed.
We will the dogwood to bloom and expect
The lemon to offer its first fruit.  Hands bleed--
blisters from the butterfly bush unchecked
by frostless winter, and spring at full speed.


  1. I was walking to school one day without a penny to my name, and stepped into the little mom and pop store to look at the candy, when I spotted the water gun of my dreams and I stuck it in my pocket. There was no reason for me to get caught except for the kid standing next to me that hadn’t liked me for years and wanted to see me in trouble, but the only trouble that I could get into is with my parents. My mother came to get me and I was sick for almost one week. It takes a while for the bruises to go away but I don’t know if they ever really did.

  2. I thought that we were supposed to post our California poem, but I don't remember for sure. Here is mine:

    California What?

    California dreams from me
    Blonde hair and blue eyes
    Everybody surfs
    Everyone is healthy

    Everyone bicycles
    Everyone swims
    Nobody has any money trouble
    It costs more to live there than almost anywhere

    There are mountains
    There are deserts
    The ocean is everywhere
    Only rich people shop on Rodeo Drive