Category: Tamiko Lowery

The Tree

it stands

unmoved

by birds

of feather

that land

haphazard

on its limb

resting ever

in its arms

singing sweetly

to the day

for the tree

has been there

before

beautiful birds

cannot be caged

they go whence the wind

beyond the borders of the forest

a million moons away

they wing

far from buried roots

and blades

some come back

someday

others never do

the tree understands

that

like the spider

that climbs its grooves

looking to spin

or the butterfly that breezes by

leaving its cocoon

or the mother bird

her nest of cracked shells

those are ornamental things

ordinary in nature

it stands

a thousand years

more

to feel the print

of a wayward child

that looks up, up, up

amazed

and all the loss

of lesser things

matter not

to the tree

for it knows

not even the slant of rain

can remove

a child’s handprint

from its heart

TL

Create

the Pacific

the Atlantic

the Indian

the Arctic

the water moves

high tide, low tide

it’s liquid across all four

spilling over sand

pulling up letters

flooding the palace

a tsunami

of sorts

what we go through

as human beings

at different levels

of sea

what drowns

what floats

what you try to keep dry

and save

maybe that’s why the sky

is such a sacred thing

it connects a people

to a place

we look up

from below

like an ant on a hill

the clouds shred apart

to reveal the grey

a dab of white and black

blended on the board

and brushed against canvas

the Artist works

in charcoal

TL

Ways

people get stuck

in the ways

in the passenger seat

the front row

the bedding

the cell

the shoes

the grave

the height of pleasure

brewed and burned

that full feeling

nuked and trashed

the depth of denial

coursing through

the weathervane

‘cause you go to work

and do your job

and pay your bills

and sign your name

and give a dime

and sit in church

and laugh on cue

and go to that thing

and hold that door

and nod your head

and throw that ball

and light that wick

and cook that meal

and run that race

and net that fish

and cut the grass

and sift the sand

and bring the flowers

and walk the dog

and bake the cake

and paint the fence

and nail the roof

and bang the drums

and clear the clutter

and save the book

and take the train

and turn the blind

and lift the cup

and light the stick

and shoot it up

and make a mess

and fix your face

and set the timer

and straighten your tie

and wave goodbye

and board the plane

and close your eyes

and walk the aisle

and sit in that chair

and say you’ll be back

and fall off the cliff

and get hit by the bus

and blown away on the plane

and shot by a stranger

and run over by bulls

and sunk by a ship

and taken hostage

and beheaded

and left for dead

boxed or burned

on the return

go stand in the mirror

under the sting

and wipe the film

make like you see

whatever works

TL

Felt

lo and behold

the embodiment

of a being

how one comes to be

who they are

the story behind the story

drawn in

by happenstance

held there

by silence

for tears are quiet creatures

that fall

without knowing

brushed beneath

an Apec blue

TL

Two Years

and just like that

like when it rains

and the sun’s out

was like that

out of nowhere

two years

she gave me back

two years

and it’s common knowledge

to her

like kimchi with each meal

but wholly-cow alien to me

and I’m sitting there

but am I really there

in that café atmosphere

people chomping their pastries and sipping their drug

a child whining, silverware dropping

“what … wait a minute, what …

what did you say … can you repeat that?”

and she does

with the patience she affords her children

“you see, in Korea, when a baby is first born …

a year is added right then. And then when it turns January 1,

we add another year to that.”

I forget what else she said

later on, I show her the only photo I have

and she tells me I look like I’m one

that I was born in 1972

even though my birth certificate from Korea has 1970

you walk around your whole life

with questions you’ll never have answered

lines on a sheet of paper left empty

and they still have my file at the orphanage

but haven’t the information to fill the blanks

so, two years

whether it’s really true or not

I’ll take it

TL

Memorabilia

he had

a TV

in the basement

of that white two-story

a recliner where he’d sit

and unwind

watching mostly sports

but he never missed an episode

of Happy Days

neither did i

tiptoed on the stair

quietly sitting there

he’d let out a roar of laughter

and i always thought he looked

so much like the Fonz

with his dark hair combed straight back

and i think sometimes

he knew i was there

roaring with him

but he never let on

he’d come home with candy in his pockets

and have me guess which one

peanut or plain m&ms

we’d spend hours in the snow

building men

and baseballs

he was so much like a kid

filled with joy

we’d walk the woods

and he’d pick me up

and put me on the highest boulder

summers he spent mowing the grass

and i’d tote him some tea

and he’d act like it was the best drink

in the whole wide

i followed him everywhere

but there

he wouldn’t let me

go there

TL

In the Mourning

can’t

what you think

you can’t do

is done

every day

feet on the floor

one step two

primal pain

the second you’re never the same

people go on

and on

even when they think

they can’t

do that

they do

feeling forsaken

a life taken

waking up a stranger

lost in the wilderness

of where to go

now

which way points up

a compass held

by both

the weak and the strong

in and out of centuries

the mantle of inheritance

what it is

to understand

where you are

where you’ve been

in the nothingness of pitch

nothing changes

unmoved

so says the ray

that goes forth

from the sun

and moments the moon

TL

White Rabbit

the moss

looks velvet

on the tree

a smudge of summer

there

where the white mushroom

opens its umbrella

to roof the rain

a lingering leaf on a limb

refuses to fall

the seasons in submission

I long for spring

the growing everywhere

in England it must be magic there

cobblestone and window-boxes

fresh berries and scones

the clatter of cups and saucers

lilly bells a-ringing

the little shop

cracked in leather

bound books

primed in proper prose

plucked in petals

lost in love

the knoll

is velvet

like the moss

a place to drift

once the cup is empty

and all the words are spent

on things that cost

the Queen

too much

in commonwealth

TL

All Along

past the cloud

beyond the ray

the dip of the day

what the wake left

a footprint in the dirt

handprint on the glass

red on the rim

a bird’s wing

somebody’s stuff

a frosted mug

a copper kettle

the page unturned

the script at crawl

where’s the wind

is it in the east

where the gardenias grow

he’s still pulling up the hose

carrying it around

is it the break of day

already

where did the porch swing

come from

what happened to the trike

the horn

there’s no buggy left to push

simplifies the choice

and it’s raining

or was

the caterpillar went cocooning

a derby horse

at down

the laces need tying

a double knot

segments in an orange

seeds in the core

the pit

the peel

who’s at the door

did that song get played

who heard it

was it beautiful

the arrangement

field formation

who looks at the score

it’s the run game

what you endure

in the allotment

upgrade

the status

we were meant to wonder

to look out

past the cloud

the ray

TL

Last Night

a 5 year old

asked

an 8 year old

“what happened

to Copper?”

the 8 year old

never said

the 5 year old

asked

“what is that …

what is that

coming out

of your eyes?”

TL

Toni Long

there were three

and she was

one of ‘em

and I can still

see her now

crunching that green

apple

‘cause she didn’t

have time for lunch

she kept her hair

real short

‘cause she didn’t

have time to fuss

not a trace of shadow

on her face

she was all about

wellness

that’s what

she taught us

in all her

Britannica brilliance

and she was always in a hurry

to get somewhere

‘cause somebody needed her

badly to be there

and when we’d talk

our talks

she made me feel like

I was the most important person

like what I had to say mattered

enough to slow down

and I remember one day

after class

asking her not about

wellness

but about life

the tragedies of life

and how could I help

all of that

how could I grow up

and make it better

here’s what she told the kid:

“you have to think

of the world

as a great big pie

none of us get

the whole pie

we only get a slice

and you have to

figure out

for yourself

how to make

that slice count …

you can’t change

the whole world

and its problems

none of us can

but you can take a slice of it

and do something great

you can make a difference

in the world

that way

give something back

that’s how you make it better

I know you can do that”

TL

2015

the fizz

in the flutes

fizzled

the baubles

on the tree

bounced

the crumbs Santa left

wiped

the stringy lights

spooled

the ribbon and wrap

tossed

the yuletide chorus

replaced

all your good intentions

centered

the newness of the year

listed

your measure of resolve

tested

in the business of being

awake

TL

Copper

in the dark

of night

we stood

under the stars

and felt no rain

lost in our own drops

our daughter’s dog

is dead

buried in the willows

of roses and remorse

TL

Unspoken

seven days

before Christmas

found myself

standing in a stable

watching children

gallop in sandy circles

the land is open

beyond the wooden fence

the gates

things are simple here

like apple orchards

like a mare

with her slow gait

a hush within a hurricane

she lets small hands

lead her

poses for a picture

listens to them talk

pat her goodbye

she heads to her stall

and we head to our car

and there’s another car

pulling in

and the kids get out

their mother I know

from school

we chat the usual

I look over

and see the window

rolled down

there’s a woman on the passenger side

I go over to say, “hello”

it’s her mother visiting from Korea

in the very back seat

sits her father

I wave hello

they get out of the car

and we’re all standing there talking

they in their Korean

me in my English

the daughter is translating

she tells them I was born in Seoul

and adopted

they look at me …

they see me

we hug each other

they walk over to my daughter

they hold her close

I need no translator

TL

Cultivation

globs of snow

dot the dirt

along a stretch

of frozen rows

mirrored in the horizon

hazy in the silence

of the morning ray

steamed in breath

the crimson tractor

sits ever ready

to plow a new path

over the old

and fat are the hens

that strut in their hutch

high off

corn and cotton

they lay their eggs

their work is done

as the cattle chew

and the mule

stands waiting

for something to happen

TL

The Call

we are

a call away

all of us

a call away

the phone rings

for some

before daylight

for others

nightlight

and nobody

wants to take that call

hear those words

you’re never ready

to hear those words

no matter how many times

you’ve taken that call

there’s still a question

haven’t asked

still a story

haven’t heard

still a laugh

haven’t laughed

still a moment

haven’t had

still that much

haven’t done

said

TL

December

diamond drops

dress the wooded tree

a distant wink of tinsel

in the amber light

of a torrential dawn

that left the parade

floating

the policeman in a puddle

the streets shown

the gray morning

a reprieve

before the bustle

deep pockets

and hurried squirrels

those letters mailed North

the music slows

the dog dreams of a bone

hams and turkeys

parcels and pudding

a star on top

the story of old

“no room at the inn …”

TL

What Love Is

he kept

looking down

at his watch

he knew what time

it started

at the appointed hour

he got up

from the table

and walked across

the kitchen floor

to the glass door

and stood there

staring out …

his boy being buried

his wife at the table

she doesn’t know

she forgot what they told her

he couldn’t leave her

TL

Consider

when you

don’t know

a thing

about any thing

a form of utopia

an oblivion

to be oblivious

of things

not for a man

nor a woman

for adults are aware

of all things

the slightest thing

the abject thing

the base line

a stick in the sand

draw your dreams

only the moon

can laugh

plate and spoon

the cow’s a steak

three bears, three pigs

the golden goose

a tale to tell

even at Christmas

the glass slipper

does it fit your foot

better stories now

to tell your girl

let down your hair

and live

not a storied life

of fairies and tales

but of your own

write

even when

you can’t see the page

the snow falls

for a time

sticks

to the web work

the limbs

roots and blades

ponds and puddles

iced over

in a tray

all things thaw

the web catches

in the wind

the spider finds

another tree

does this

a thousand times

the coldest day

still the spider

will climb

TL

Progression

caught up

in the clock

the tick tock

the fall back

the spring forward

what time is it?

have to be there at

have to leave at

have to get up at

have to

take that down

have to

put that up

what time is it?

gotta go

where

gotta go

there

gotta get

what

gotta get

that

out of that

what do you need

what do you want

sure you know

under and over

to begin again

to be new again

to be in awe

of the earth

and its people

the nature of things

the breath in your body

the birth of your being

the feelings you feel

before and after

the mystery of not knowing

being somewhere you’ve never been

trying something you’ve never tried

the progression

a pendulum

how to proceed

as time turns you

inside out

outside in

the hour in which

we are  

with somewhere to be

not to be

TL