Moon Landing camping with my parents in a Minnesota State Park age seven with my younger brother playing in dirt, we had a campfire clear night of stars, we could see the moon bright and white someone brought a small TV got an extension cord and plugged it into the men’s room outlet rested it on the picnic table for all to watch crowd gathered, fellow campers a glimpse of the other world of man in space I look up at the moon to see if anything has changed on our basement TV at home, re-run a thousand times I was fascinated that I might be alive for space travel and moon tourism school art project with construction paper, scissors and glue would take me anywhere I wanted.
espanol/ingles – Spanish/English uno, dos, one word at a time struggling to read, pronounce my mind working behind the words to categorize, box up, identify words separate in a flood of alphabet, pictures, pantomime no nuances, no perspective at this point. Punta. I am in kindergarten again all grown-up experiencing to expand in songs on the radio with only words of love and longing breaking through then….ingles…pours out as a river, understood without thinking, overwhelms I don’t want to be immersed in the familiar yet as I pick the right nuance a thesaurus of choices, each one striving to be perfect. I go back to my espanol taria, homework where we compare the many variations of estado civil: casado, soltero, divorciado, vivdo, separado, union libre in masculine and feminine seeking genders to match in holy matrimony. in Mexico there is only casado and soltero, no more, no less.
School or will clouds cluster to cover her & the blue wind gather at her shoulders she reads Erica Jong under cloudy skies, wind popping clusters of couples together & under cover of trees over muted windy professors lecture & she’ll never get clouds of science bluster to unwind her windy classmates, undercover crushes fish cluster in schools girls unlike her all clouded with mascara & lip gloss & faces to the winding long road of Beatles cloud bearing songs to cover scratched heart, she clusters by herself, clustering couples under & below trees under her favorite branches water wind around her cover homeroom clouds endless cluster of names her body cloudy & small covering wild wind
Jules Nyquist is the founder of Jules’ Poetry Playhouse, LLC, a place for poetry and play in Albuquerque, NM. Jules teaches creative writing and poetry classes and hosts poetry readings with visiting writers. She took her MFA in Writing and Literature from Bennington College, VT. Her two books of poems, Behind the Volcanoes and Appetites (Beatlick Press), were finalists for the NM/AZ Book Awards. Jules’ poems have appeared in 5 AM, Salamander, Malpais Review, Adobe Walls, A View from the Loft, St. Paul Almanac, Long Islander News, Gray Sparrow, House Organ, Duke City Fix, Café Review and others. Her favorite poetry form is the sestina. She was born in St. Paul, Minnesota and moved to Albuquerque on spring equinox, 2011. Her website is www.julesnyquist.com