My grandmother’s farm in Santa Cruz had a tub
inside a redwood.
The trick in winter was to stay perfectly still.
I’ve seen my grandfather naked
and let me tell you he does not wear underwear.
He made anyone laugh and cheated on my grandmother
with her best friend and then fled to Minnesota.
He thought my grandmother’s lyme’s disease was voodoo
and I am named for him.
The horses of my dreams
gum the fingers of my dreams
thinking it’s a carrot.
The horses of his dreams
mutter something with air from their lips.
He left without goodbye
and I would have liked one.
A swift kick in the heart.
In the heart and then in the jewels in that order.
Oh in so many directions.


Photo by Pia Gaarslev (uploaded by Ane Jensen) from Denmark (Flickr) [CC-BY-2.0 (], via Wikimedia Commons.