Transformation Matrices

I would be blonde in another coordinate system

and you would not have a beard; she would be transformed

into beauty and charm. 

I'm looking for the transformation matrix is several dimensions.

my office mate tells me its easy but for the spatially handicapped

it's a challenge

youTube leads the way

we'll make some guesses at the appropriate angles and 

throw in some cosines, sines and a couple tangents for good measures

and roll the dice

we'll be transformed no doubt and we'll hope for the best.

old age

he saw the lanyard amidst the pile of unopened correspondence
and while she was earnestly describing the events of her day
he carefully threaded the ends of the lanyards onto her reading glasses.
she didn't even know she had one on that pile and when he
placed her glasses over her head with such tenderness and acceptance,
she realized and accepted that she was older now
wearing a lanyard like other people was better than searching
continually for a pair of glasses after finding her hearing aid.

The Candidate

he talked way too long
and read his statement from typed notes
he lacks charisma, you can't reach people
looking down at your papers,
they only see the bald head and moving lips.
where are his eyes
he's a good man
with lots of brains
and a heart, I'm sure of it
we shuffled our feet and stifled yawns as
he droned on about climate change
and international politics.
we care, but not right now on a Friday night
after work, we're here to write a check
let's get on with it and grab some dinner.

Erasing yesterday

I'd erase the shooting of the two journalists,
their smiles would still fill the screen, the young
man would still be leaving candy wrappers around the studio.
he's still ask the weatherman what the weather was going to be,
and the response would still be that he didn't know.
I would not have made the error in my analysis, so
I wouldn't have to fix it, and the newsreel on ISIS
destroying another antiquity would not have to unwind.
There was no tumble on Wall Street, no one shed tears.
no one experienced hunger, and everyone had a good
nights sleep, warm or cool enough, holding the hand
of someone they loved.
there were no reports of loneliness or jagged grief.
Today, I could simply hit delete for yesterday,
then carriage return to come back to today.
let's try again today with more love, less hate,
put the guns away, pull out the roses.

Dog Wash

She was wiggling in delirious happiness,
back down, flailing legs facing skyward.
I saw the slick on her back
and smelled the evidence a mile away.
A transfer of "rotten dead thing" to a dog's back.
Disgusting.
She knows that she's in line for a bath
when the front door remains closed and I head inside
without her, she tries to run away
knowing it's useless.
We go at it with shampoo and buckets of water
but the stench remains.
I'd rather spend my time catching up on the
news and having breakfast.
It's a pass off to S.
His turn now.

the lonely notebook

every page is filled with the scribbles of poetry
and it's lost in a jumble somewhere, unseen
unheard as it cannot speak,
it's a lonely notebook and me, a desperate
writer hoping to copy some ad-lib poem from yesterday.
a cheat, for sure.
now my heart turns to the lonely notebook, not for my
own selfish reasons but in empathy for what it is to be lonely.
i have been there many times and will be again
when the skin lies close to the bone and my friends
are gone to ashes
then i will seek a lonely notebook to write my good-byes,
she will be waiting for me.

fear and greed index

they feel the money slipping through their fingers
like sand in an hourglass, time is running out.
the rich worry most.
the poor check their food pantries for tomorrow's breakfast
they have nothing to lose and nothing to gain
they are not in this game.
many will pop a pill, the sounds of corks will resound
throughout the nation while the temperature ticks up another
hundredths of a degree.
we are almost to the tipping point but too obsessed
with the feel of money in our hands, too worried
when it slips away like sand in an hourglass.

saying goodbye for now

it's still hard to say goodbye for now
knowing that for now I won't see the freckles on your lips,
hear your high laughter, or laze away an afternoon in
on the back porch discussing bad literature.
it won't be the same next time,
you may be resting your head on his shoulder,
I would hope for that even as it won't be on mine.
you are growing up and I, well, you call me
little mama as my bones shrink with age.
you will always look up to me even if you forget sometimes,
I will always have to lift my gaze to look into your eyes.

Flying away towards

we can fly away from home
towards a new beginning, the sun glinting
off our newfound wings, stopping in fields
along the way, swimming and diving into
ponds never before discovered.
that is life, to leave home again,
to build a new nest, the best nest
soothed by the sound of the surf, the gentle
breezes that rock her to a restful sleep.
we wish this for her in her journeys
flying away, towards.

Crossing the line

one foot has ventured across, one is hesitant

turning slightly away, not even half way across the line.

what makes us hesitate

fear of the unknown

mostly

these green shoes with green socks

are 90% fearless, but need an extra 20%

to jump across to the other side

i don't know what will be there but I know it

will be good.

An Opening for BatGirl

there's an opening for  a new BatGirl
must be a superheroine with smarts and sass.
the job requires her to assist or lead any group
of other superheros, no need to pussy foot around
with high heels and a falsetto voice.
I'd like the job, but I need to learn to fly
and get a little bossier,
maybe with time, I can learn.

What to read from the Little Library

it's hard to decide what to read,
all the books are free,
is Mac OS X Leopard about wildlife
it's a tragedy what happened to Cecile, the Lion-
the dentist deserves the wrath of the world
we should feel so angry about so many things
but there are so many Shades of Grey in life.
The burden of Proof lies with the prosecutor,
but there is no doubt that he did it.
Let Vanity Fair do full coverage on the
psychology of such men who do such things.
Perhaps I'll start reading Agent in Place.
I felt that way in the meeting this morning.
we will blow apart that which is in need
of dynamite.

the boy with the gap in his teeth

yes, that one, the redhead,
the one with the gap in his teeth
and the biggest smile.
that one who grew up to be my best friend
ever, my BFF.
that one doesn't have so much hair anymore
but he still has the best smile and acts like
a little boy in the most endearing ways
when he's not being a man in the serious
ways that a woman needs.
and yes, he still has a gap in his teeth
and I love him for it, and for all
that he is.

Pointing at elk

docile as cows although we could hear the grass being ripped from ground.
astounding that in one year, a bull elk can grow 40 pounds of  antlers and
still hold his head erect; they drop to the earth after rutting is over once they
have their harem, or slink off into the forest without one.
if only human mating was so simple.
we'd carefully sniff each other, and the women would watch the
males rattle their antlers against each other.
i learned that the males urinate on themselves and on the ground,
only to roll in it, their legs flailing in the air.
everyone should be so stinky.
instead we go on-line and look at pictures and read descriptions
only to find that they don't smell quite right and we move
on to the next.

Beautiful women

we were seven.

I'm hiding behind the camera so I can admire them.

Lisa, Chaucy, Salome, Johanna, Darlene and Shelly,

we know how to put on a good time

with red wine, rose and white, watermelon, beets,

guacamole, raspberries and many dolmades.

a hummingbird is feeding behind us, catching

the spirit and the sun courteously does not

shine in our eyes.

we look into each others' eyes when we clink glasses.

we have come to know each other.

Geometry Revisited

I hated geometry and especially the teacher, Mr. Clotire

with his odd mannerisms and eccentric ways,

his pink shirts and flamboyant arm movements.

Now I understand his ways.

Now I understand the need for geometry

in calculating view factors 

and other useful things.

he must be a million years old now

or older, but I hope he hears my appreciation

and my understanding of his ways,
 a long time coming, I guess better late
than never,

food

admire it, savor it 

in all its colors and textures

flavors, how it spreads across a plate.

the crunch of baby lettuce

the softness of ciabatta bread

the sweetness of fresh fig.

its lunch and the hummingbirds

are sipping at the feeder close-by,

the sun reflects of the white of the plate

and tablecloth is a clean black and 

pristine white.

its summer, we're outside

the sun is shining,birds are humming,

food is yummy and I'm 

nothing but happy.

Feed her and she will come

the first night, it was roasted veggies and steak,
white wine, triple creme brie, crackers and chocolate.
the second night, we started with the wine, a nice rose,
 hard boiled eggs, chickpeas, grilled chicken, tomatoes,
cucumber from the garden and fresh cantaloupe.
and tonight, a good white, home made pizza
(since it's Tuesday),
a special birthday brownie to celebrate
her birthday on June 23
(yes, I was confused also, but it was
very sweet of Stephen when she is not even
his biological daughter)
cinnamon ice cream
and some mint tea.
if there is food and wine,
she will come.
even if there is not,
I hope she will come.

peace

peace in every note
in every word, in every step
even as we argue politics or gender,
income inequality, women's rights,
we shall do so peacefully,
with calm and respect.

the kids

she is in me and he is in her
and he is in him and I am in them
and so it goes, from one generation to
the next.
in their youth, they believe they have
made their own destiny just as I did
when I was thrown on out on the street,
I'll show my independence.
free from the family that runs in your genes,
your laugh, your way of talking and walking,
yes, I see myself in him and in her, I see her in him
and him in her, the same smiles, yes
they are mine and they are his
and they are theirs.

Cut down to a stump

The southwest corner of the yard was empty
the nanking cherry bush, so carefully tended and loved
cut to the ground, mere stumps poking up amongst the
flowers.
I almost cried, remembering how carefully I picked that
bush from the others to replace the one which had
died, the one that had white cherries
that tasted so sweet on the tongue.

No matter where, haircuts are necessary

a haircut while waiting,

and why not

it's daytime and we crowd into tunnels

at nightfall,

dreading the sounds of clubs

and guns

we pray to go north to England.

in the meantime, why not

have a haircut, read the news

of what's to come

we believe that

our lives are in God's hands.

Sleeping through poetry

last night
at 7:30 p.m.  I was asleep.
the flute stood sentry in the stand
the keyboard was silent
there were no ten minute activities.
the dog and the man were downstairs
I slept to the hum of the fans
covers thrown off in the heat
there was no movement on the bed
maybe I was dead, to the world
anyway.
i slept through poetry
I dreamed in prose.

Sleeplessness

the numbers glow in the darkness
I can see them through half closed eyes
and they hardly move as slowly as the hours.
sleeplessness, there is no peaceful slumber
the synapses fire, he snores
I watch the numbers change on the clock
until my eyelids droop for a moment,
only to open again and notice that the numbers
have barely changed.
just get it over with, this night that offers
no respite,  just the static electricity of a
too active brain busy doing nothing productive.
staying awake is not productive and when
the alarm goes off at 5:55 am, my eyes
finally closed will open so reluctantly
the dog licks my feet and waits impatiently
for me to get up to join her.

Mission Impossible

exploding cars catapulting over bridges
and they are still alive.
motorcycles impossibly fast, knees
grazing on hot cement,
he leaves behind the bad guy
cartwheeling into a fire ball.
she breaks his neck from on top,
gracefully leaping to the ground
in a full run.
black and white, some blood running
red rivers, bullets streaking across the
screen to down evil.
if only it were so simple,
a wonderful escape from
reality.