Eve Rounds

Mix CD’s (not a poem)

i used to make my dad mix cd’s. he loved finding what came to be some of his favorite artists this way. (another connection we had along with plants, cribbage and beer.)

the very first album was titled “Daddy & Tweety V1”. of course followed by “D & T V2”. then i started making themed mixes. i can’t remember what those themes were or which songs specifically, but because i am a loyal listener, i’m certain that i still love (most) of the artists i shared with him. those bands and solo artists i deemed worthy made multiple appearances. sometimes my dad would give me feedback, ask for more of someone or what he didn’t like about someone else.

on my brother’s recent trip to my parent’s, he helped my mom go through the attic. there he found a huge stash of CDs and cassettes. I asked my brother to look for specific albums i’d gifted my dad, along with the mixes. he found Nicole Atkins (Goodnight Rhonda Lee) and Neko Case (Middle Cyclone). no D&T’s but he did discover “Women”. i don’t remember this at all! the theme is obvious.

of course iTunes couldn’t figure out the 12 tracks so i had to listen. i recognized all of the artists, but had to think/search on some of the songs.

Over the Rhine – Spark
Carla Werner – Edge of Joy
Feist – Secret Heart
Cat Power – I Found A Reason
Over the Rhine – All I Need Is Everything
Carla Werner – Ghost Road
Feist – Mushaboom
Cat Powers – The Greatest
Over the Rhine – The Seahorse
Carla Werner – Ships
Feist – Lonely Lonely
Cat Power – Free

i stand by 8/12.

my next post will be a poem using the titles of all of the these songs.

good morning untitled

what happens now

save every voicemail
not that his tone would have been forgotten
but to hear him call me
as many times as i can endure the playback

save every voicemail
not that hers isn’t comforting in the present
but just in case
doll or babe

a way that i had never existed until now
wtih this type of
without any or all of them

what happens then

snip snip

the magic of a fresh cut
i am literally lighter
though not by much
my shoulders have less to lug
my neck has less to nodd
my jaw has less to shake
the dead ends discarded to the floor
some strands sticking to my soft sweater
to be cast later with an enchantment spell
i smile through the curtain at my forehead

but ok but

write some poems that i can give him
ok (but they’ll all be about the hims)
good idea bad idea no good

twinning and losing
our volcanos over the dining room table
past past now pssst
oh yeah i forgot that i am lucky.
better to have loved and lost…ok

this rotting yoke of numbness and lava
tongue pressed between my molars
an indentation of purpose
handwriting worse than his or his
but lacking his shape his zest

but wrote this okay

a 5 7 5 for e

peering through thick glass
your back to me is waiting
any news at all?

running down broad steps
into your brotherly arms
crying without breath!

the “honey” helps me
to let go not wanting to
you are my solid.


is it the ticking of the third hand
or the faucet dripping onto discount bulk blueberries
both measuring time
“going in circles”
as he would say
these days
when favoritisim has no force
but neither do flashing lights or this perfect view
chasing in circles and triangular dimensions
sprinklers soaking stone instead of lawn
the three of us meet in the driveway
behind the impeccably parked mini suv
masks muffling sobs
tears splattering plastic
embracing in circles

a poem about you for you (and you)

you are your own though your temperament reminds me of him your head is more ripe mango while his was more soft plum my love

i don’t even know

how long it’s been. haven’t been counting days haven’t counted backwards on the calendar. haven’t bothered to reread my own words. haven’t been missing you

the five senses

your blue eyes and crooked lippy smile which i inherited that tiny soft bristle brush for your basically bald head the white corvette a campfire cards


what did falling in love feel like to you actual falling a new winter sweater a blood flutter did you question its science or were you


sometimes the wind the waves muffle and drown my memories sometimes the wind the waves magnify and amplify the sound of your voice and clearing

the theatre

this is  a silent film flickering  catching  starting over emptiness surrounding such a blinding contrast ahead of us shared stories  captured images disconnected nonsensical we