Friday, April 29, 2011

Snapshot out the Window during a Windstorm

a man walks by head down
gripping his case of Bud Light
as if the wind would carry it away
a girl dressed in a white dress rushes
the other way, alternating between
leaning back and reaching forward to
push down her lofting skirt with
every gust; she glances around to
make sure no one saw anything
the clouds watch it all as they
rush overhead, never pausing to
look any closer.

Thursday, April 28, 2011

The Look

black mini-skirt
black fishnet hose
[ tight ]
black cashmere sweater
yellow keds
perfect look

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

A Day at Work

I sifted through piles of micrometeoroids
splayed across countless reports; they were all small
and ineffectual, so I shuffled through larger piles of
shattered rocket boosters, hammers and spent fuel
tanks, and found something of substance, things
that could do some real damage, worth thinking about
and so I had to think for a long time about these
objects circling our own earth waiting to shred
our satellites, ripping cuddly blankets off telescopes,
severing cables which connect them to us,
and us to them.

Image generated by European Space Agency

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Listening to a Nobel Laureate Speak about Particle Physics

we watched him from our seats in the auditorium,
not even noticing the fluctuating gluons
moving in space like miniature lava lamps between
him and us [oblivious to their beauty, we read our newspapers
in our three dimensional Cartesian space, watching
our clocks tick]; one dimensional time is hard enough
to manage what with getting to work, picking up the kids.
in another dimension of a supersymmetric world,
we would be beautiful and thin to balance our chubby,
gluttonous selves, all we have to do is get there.

Monday, April 25, 2011

A Rock, Paper, Scissors poem

This poem comes from a prompt at poetry workshop to take three words and relate them in the same (or similar way) to rock, paper, scissors. My words (randomly selected from a pile) were lemon, thoughtfulness and light.

by nature, lemons create light in the darkest teas
the splash of single droplet leaves behind a royal crown
suspended in air as it forges its way from the still rippling
surface to the bottom of the tea cup.

let ubiquitous light overshadow thoughtfulness, a flash
in the pan, a lovely surprise

thoughtfulness clearly trumps lemons, that dour look
coupled with a snide remark
in response you surely walk away a little
less sweet.


Sunday, April 24, 2011

Cured of Corn Syrup and Junk Food

the damn dog had a treat sitting on the arm of my couch,
the banished dog, the dog that jumped on people’s laps
without asking, the dog that wasn’t even there but still
had a dog bone sitting on the arm of my couch.
I was incensed and demanded a treat also; the dog no doubt
had treats that cost a small fortune; I demanded good treats, too.
She came back with a small cardboard box filled with
lunch-size packets of Cheetos,  caramel corn, BBQ chips,
the bad stuff that someone brought anonymously to her party
and left behind surreptitiously, glad for it be gone from
their basement when someone else left it at their party.
this person I loved [did she love me] was offering me junk food instead of
a beautiful, organic, wholesome treat like she would buy for her dog.
I was crushed and I ate a whole package of caramel corn
Afterwards I felt sick, but cured of eating such things in the future.
Not sure if it’s tough love, but I know we will have to talk of this while
the dog sits on my lap and farts in my general direction.

Friday, April 22, 2011


as one layer falls to the earth
another child raises her arms through
the dust towards the sun, like a flower
pushes through a layer of composted
leaves from the last generation, once
green, once bright and encouraging,
now only to feed the new life, that
child, that girl who will then reach for
 the stars, only to bow graciously in
time yielding to another layer of seed
rising to the sun, again and again
and again.

Thursday, April 21, 2011

Wash It Away

wash away the years in 35 minutes
while doing the dishes and paying bills,
all for $14.99 plus tax.
what a bargain.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011


crowds gathered as street-corners
chatting amiably waiting for stoplights to turn green,
streets bustled with activity, groups of young people
strolled under a canopy of newly green trees, one
young man pausing to climb up a particularly appealing
trunk across the street, calling raucously down to his
friends who did tricks on skateboards in the street
below, every parking spot in the neighborhood was full
and the windows of many were opaque with smoke,
they all showed up for 4/20, if only they showed up
in such force, with such enthusiasm for something
that was worth fighting for.

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Signs of Easter

the most disgusting, the most delightful
yellow/pink/blue marshmallow chicks that herald
a new beginning, the soft pastel sweetness of renewal
and regeneration, the true sign that Easter is coming.
Wicker baskets to be filled, easter eggs to be colored
and hidden, chocolate bunnies, malt ball speckled
eggs, all the trappings of the season.
Forget long boring services at midnight, ham
and boring relatives, bad coffee and prissy
dresses and white socks!  Celebrate with
Peeps, Kraft and Proctor and Gamble,
Easter has arrived.

Monday, April 18, 2011

Lonely Stars, Seeking Souls

A billion stars and more, intergalactic debris, clouds, lonely atoms
missing their electrons, gamma rays and x-rays, all seeking
life, our tiny lives with blue socks and missing shoes we look
for under the couch before getting the daily newspaper hidden in
the bushes.

We look heavenward through a haze of city smog on summer nights
holding the hand of someone we love, seeking life outside
the cramped box we call home with greasy ceilings and unswept floors,
mangy dogs licking themselves, briefcases unopened.
A billion stars, a billion people and more gaze at each other
across lightyears wondering where they have been and where they
are going. 

picture from

Sunday, April 17, 2011

Nobel Laureate Refuses to Memorize Periodic Table

In memory of William N. Lipscomb, Jr., Nobel Laureate in Chemistry, dead at 91

“Well, son, probably not best to follow in my footsteps
in that way” he chuckled as he leaned back in his rocking chair
caressing his granddaughter’s cheek as she slept.
“Didn’t like me much, he didn’t and can’t say I blame him
after all that.  I was a young whipper-snapper too busy to
waste my time on his priorities” his eyes were starting to
droop just a bit like Clara’s, his coffee long gone cold.  
I watched a smile spread across his face, “The old man, though,
hopefully smiled from above when I was in Sweden,
knowing that eventually I must have committed the
periodic table to memory” 

Friday, April 15, 2011

Friday night

big plans cooked up all week,
happy hours and movie houses.
laughing with friends, energized.
Friday night we drag ourselves home
to T.V. dinners or worse, feet up on
the couch, canceled plans
and the lethargy that follows
too much work.

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Spring is Tenacious

spring forth
pushing aside that which is past
scattered light glistens through
watery ice, so nice, to see
grape hyacinth reach for the
brightness of spring

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

The Cruelty of Springtime

we bask in sunshine, take off our heavy coats,
watch seedlings sprout, bikes creaky from a
winter off weave down the sidewalks, we rejoice.

a cold wind blows through our skimpy blouses,
blossoms fall from trees, our coffees cool quickly
as we rush back to our cozy offices, we sit
inside glumly watching the thermometer drop.

Spring, so cruel. 

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Memorizing a Poem

book of poetry in my bike rack
I reach for it, balancing steadily
as I turn to the correct page
read one more line, one more line
committed to memory

Ming, ming, such a lovely thing,
I sing, I ride merrily along on
this lovely day.

Monday, April 11, 2011

Bluebird in Spring

before I go down the drain with the rest of you,
feed me thistle seeds nestled in pistachio shells,
let me feel the sunlight reflect off Namibian sandstone
onto my weary wings, let me write my memoirs
in seven colors and place them in silver boxes.
before I go, wrap me in precious cloths of silver,
purple and red, but let me see the place to which
we go, eyes wide open, a song rising in my breast.

Sunday, April 10, 2011

The Evidence is In

they hid their guilt,
swearing they did not go out last night
in sleet and snow to sniff the wetness on their noses
but I know they lie behind those innocent eyes,
the evidence tracks across the kitchen floor,
busted, all three of them.

Friday, April 8, 2011

The Perfect Spoon

the perfect ratio of depth to width,

not the length, heft, the sculptured handle or its embellishments
is what your open mouth desires, yearning to be entered
delicately, but substantially

too big and its delectable contents spill over,
too small, visceral dissatisfaction, a hunger

for more, such urgency comes over your face
as you lurch from your chair towards the silverware
drawer, seeking the perfect ratio.

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Driving to the Airport

Never! will I drive to the airport
only to turn around and drive back

unless it is to listen to the sweet chorus
of tires on the pavement interwoven with
particular voices that never resonate
against my eardrums often enough

and in finding myself in sweet solitude
on return, listen with contentment
to the sound of my heart inside my chest

to be alive, yes, to be alive!

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Chinese Take-out

appears magically,
already cooked,
ready to eat.

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

He's 25

he sits across from me, his torso anyway
a sprained ankle rests on the bench beside me

where we have sat so many years, he and me,
on me, beside me, across me, blurred boundaries

of mother and son who started as one after all,
sharing morning sickness, did he throw up too

or laugh inside at his power before arrival, now
having grown from microns to meters, from fuzzball

to curly haired wonder, he’s 25 after all.

Monday, April 4, 2011

Homage to Vasko Popa

Imitation is the Highest Form of Flattery - in admiration for Vasko Popa, although I apologize for making this imitation so incredibly dark

I started writing this poem while watching the Moon;

One runs away holding her hands
towards the heavens hoping to catch raindrops
that will quench her unending thirst

and feeling hungry, I continued the next stanza;
Another watches from inside the white picket fence
chewing turnip greens and gulping Coca-Cola,
he drops to his knees, sobbing, 
and I realized I would sob also combining those
two foodstuffs,
his tears staining the bloody earth

this stanza can only come from the rather
odd lines from the great poet himself;
The third stands on the roof
looking into the distance, 
upon seeing nothing
he jumps joyfully to his death.

Sunday, April 3, 2011

Ensconced in Glenwood Springs

butter dripping down grins
filled with margaritas and brownies
in tummies of happiness, wine drowning
in contentment, cars passing by on
highways of snow rushing to tunnels
filled with darkness, we sit by candlelight
in warm restaurants, sleep on feather
beds as traffic pulses to jobs
which can wait another day.