Thursday, October 27, 2016

seeds like fish

I swam in a school of fish like this,
my body whirling as one of them in warm waters.
I stirred the seeds in a white bowl and 
they swarmed like fish in an ocean
following unseen currents, head to tail
the outer ones flashing their wide backs,
the inner ones swimming sideways
crammed against one another, finally
diving deep below before rising up
at the very edges only to circle
inwards once again.

Wednesday, October 26, 2016

Disappearing Images

the image disappeared in front of my eyes
one moment, a swirl of black on white
connecting curvatures of beauty
as water is wont to do, each molecule rose
from the surface into the air I breathe
leaving white below
until finally, the design had disappeared into
thin air.

(this image is from the little Budha board I have at paint on it with water and watch it disappear.)

Tuesday, October 25, 2016

golden grasses

the golden grasses,
they are ready to rest, to lay down on 
one another, to let the snow fall over them,
a comforter of white.
the path will still be broken in the winter
by the thousands of feet walking 
walking, running, hiking, most talking
of nonsense, the same nonsense I hear
in my own head, the words that deny
the overwhelming beauty of this natural 
world, the one to pay attention to,
to stop talking, to listen, to see,
to sing.

Monday, October 24, 2016


Sometimes it's money.
When I walk inside the drab building
When I walk inside my windowless office
And the sun is shining outside, or it's raining
Or snowing, but it's ....outside
Where I want to be.
I can convince myself this where I need to be
If I imagine the whirring sound of an ATM
Except it's my computer and every few minutes,
A crisp bill comes out and drops into my purse.
Payment for borrowing my brain for a bit
And I think of what I can do with that money,
A trip to Mexico in March,
An electric bike,
Savings for sunny days when I don't have to go
Into a windowless office in a drab building.
Adventures, visits to friends and family,
Food on the table, flute lessons
And French, and it feels better somehow
To be in that office.
Just keep that cash machine

Sunday, October 23, 2016

Mille Bornes, deuxième fois

I lost again
In spite of having a smart partner
Sitting across from me, her cards
Held close to her chest.
I had hoped for better, had hoped to
Hammer the two white males on the opposite
Side of the table, so to speak.
We lost but we laughed along the way
And on on the ride home, when I said it was all
About luck, he told me that every card game takes
 Skill, and I don't have it.

Friday, October 21, 2016

this is the outcome

this is the outcome of first setting eyes on the Rocky Mountains,
of gazing back through the rear window of our 1968 Packard
while heading home, east to Chicago.
I never called it home except in name alone
333 South Highland Avenue, a place of mostly unhappiness,
a shell to hold books to keep me entertained, to live in another world.
and this poem, written a day later than planned, is the outcome of
the squirrely nature of internet connections on the second floor
of this old house,
this old house that is home in all ways,
where a poem starts to write itself and gets paused
for no real reason except for the above stated vagaries.
and so life traveling across the plains in a Packard wagon,
throwing up out the back window since I always got stuck
back there and so car sick,
I ended up here in the beautiful Rocky Mountains
where I belong.

Wednesday, October 19, 2016

eating cookies while watching

we could eat chocolate chip cookies while
watching the Trump-Clinton debate
but I couldn't walk the dog without falling off the curb.
I  admit that before checking my injuries I
checked to make sure no one saw me.
yes, my hand and my hip hurt
and all the cookies are eaten so there is
nothing to ease the pain and embarrassment.
speaking of embarrassment, does that man have
no shame, making faces and spewing lies,
not even signing up to accept the election results,
maybe he has fallen off too many curbs.