Anais Nin

I lived in Los Angeles
when Anais Nin lived
in a house in Echo Park.
                   an invisible house.

a triangular corner
above Silver lake
under trees (probably bamboo and eucalyptus)
and a brown shingled roof, triangular too, I recall.
                   obscured.

Nin, 70-something, was there. Invisible,
and I, at fourteen fifteen sixteen, had read
her books and she lived, there.

I saw the brown roof and the trees
from the steps of my cousin Damon's house
but I never saw her. and was not
that bold kind of child
they make movies of - who go where they shouldn't
and find magic or a door.

My aunt told me she lived there.
But the cement street between her steps and her house
was always white hot beige
and the wind blew through her
the eucalyptus and bamboo leaves
- they always fluttered similarly.



(c) April 12, 2020

The best balcony

Our balcony is not sunny,
the light is always diffused
and sometimes grey. not gray.

my husband believes it is the best balcony because it overlooks the best courtyard in our apartment complex. and because the courtyard contains a magnolia tree (and a redbud which does not have red buds).

Not gray. because gray is warm
and the light in our balcony
is cool. grey. cool.
like a cell, but open.




(c) April 12, 2020