Thursday, March 31, 2016

ergs and dynes

are they crunchy or soft,
ergs sound like velvet with patches missing,
rubbed off over time by too much loving
and dynes must certainly sparkle,
be diamond like of course, but will
sharply correct if you're not careful
with your joules.
ergs and dynes, joules and pascals
and si units, and universal constants,
centimeters and meters and kilometers,
slugs and feet and yards,
our minds get soft, we crunch on
pebbles as we walk barefoot
through the park, our heads in the

Wednesday, March 30, 2016


I like the index.
by ingredient.
          nothing with meat
(we'll have to sneak some on the side
and hide it from our vegetarian friends),
(thanks for them not being gluten free
or vegan, lactose intolerant, or or)
I picked mushroom polenta and 
added Irish cheddar cheese,
and roasted squash and kale
(and learned from a vegetarian that
swiss chard is more nutritious, but isn't 
kale the trendy vegetable)
and had salmon tucked over in
the corner of the pan.
we drank wine,
of course.

Tuesday, March 29, 2016

getting ready

she was getting ready.
getting ready for what, you might ask,
anything, I might answer, getting ready for
life, a life without you,
a life without a job, a life pregnant with
no borders, no passports, no commands,
no fathers, no mothers, no rules,
she's getting ready
without a suitcase, a stack of books,
a black raincoat and some new shoes,
a ticket to somewhere, the idea of
a friend
you are her friend
she is taking you with her.

Monday, March 28, 2016

Karen in the New York Times

we bought champagne
and made quiche, we made cookies
and ate blueberry pie.
we toasted to her accomplishments.
Karen is in the NYT, on NPR, on PBS,
in World News, on KQED, on the BBC,
for insomniacs, anyway.
today is her day, my little girl
who became a world famous scientist.
no one could be prouder.

Sunday, March 27, 2016

the skiers

the black dog is the fastest
followed by the man in orange,
orange to grey to black,
we trail behind
the snow dazzles us
sparkles so brilliant we would be blinded
if not for dark sunglasses,
our skin burned but for sunscreen
our lips parched but for precious water,
we would die happy in such
a wonderland.

Thursday, March 24, 2016

head in hands

head in hands
it's late.
my feet are cold
ankle against ankle
hand in hand
the clock is ticking
minutes into hours
the Moon follows us in
our trajectory
as we follow Her

Wednesday, March 23, 2016

oh it's late

even the stars have closed their eyes
as mine drift downwards as well,
the Dazed and Confused cocktail started it,
then a glass or two of wine, more than a few
handfuls of caramel popcorn
(yes, now I am addicted),
work did this to me, this staring
wide-eyed at sleeping stars, the
rise of jealousy, the vow for revenge
I will sleep late tomorrow and show
him who's boss,
oh close my eyes, it is so late
let me rest.

Tuesday, March 22, 2016

before the snow

the wind is howling
another storm moving in
this morning i gathered some blossoms
before being crushed under heavy snow
it is always this way in spring
as we see-saw between winter and 
summer, mostly confused,
today, confused and saddened
by the blossoms crushed by 
gunfire, by hatred and violence
in Brussels. so much
delicacy and beauty too
precious to be destroyed.
tomorrow the flowers will droop
under their heavy load, 
our hearts also. 

Monday, March 21, 2016

missing ana

mondays used to be about ana
fountain pens out, fresh sheets of paper
a walk through a wooded preserve
coffee at a local shop where poetry books
whispered through the gaps in old wooden shelves
today is monday
the evening is long in the tooth
the streetlight has gone to bed
and ana is missing
where is ana?

Sunday, March 20, 2016

I met someone here

i met someone here
some months ago, by the mere
fact we were passing by every morning
he stood on the step looking at the sky,
sometimes in a heavy jacket, a badge 
sewn on his pocket.
we hunched our shoulders and hoped
he wouldn't notice her off leash,
my pajama top hanging out from under
my jacket.
we became friends, this large black man,
me, petite, the dog
i am sad i do not see him here anymore
i have no bounce in my step
my dog still searches for fallen crumbs
she never had the attachment

Friday, March 18, 2016

Trump 'em all, Donald

i watched him pull up on this snowy day.
i wondered who would get out of the van.
an older white gentleman came around the back
after a long pause,
older may be my age, with a slight limp
and a camo cap.
the coffee shop was full of young guys with man buns,
yoga moms, and techies,
no doubt a bunch of Democrats,
perhaps a bit disillusioned but nonetheless.
he bought a coffee, black, and sat next to me.
he read the Colorado Daily while I finished 
my almond croissant, half off after noon.
I wanted to ask him but didn't.

Thursday, March 17, 2016


I never thought I'd hear that he
was quitting, walking away,
calling it off, turning off the alarm,
bringing his suits to the consignment shop.
they would not want his ties.
my heart sinks for him as it rises,
my own memories refresh to
the wiles of corporate America,
the stupidity, really.
may they sink into the mud without him,
they will, I know, but the flowers
in his garden will rejoice, Arabesque,
my favorite cafe, will serve more chai,
the trails will be tramped a bit more often.
and so, he quit and life will move on,
but my heart hurts a bit,
quitting is not the same as
leaving when it's time.

Wednesday, March 16, 2016

Give me back my rags

give me back my rags
the holes, the cold which whistles past my ears.
I am free.
I'll give you back my new Audi,
the cashmere sweater and expensive gloves,
the extravagant parties and friends who
are not, who disappeared
when I so desperately needed them.
I'll find old friends on the road
dressed in rags and carrying their possessions
in a small bag
our faces are old
our hands are rough and broken
we may die in the street with nothing,
in rags
rags that we freely chose.

 a poem from a prompt "give me back my rags" by Vasko Popa
I don't necessarily believe that poverty is freedom, but I do think that our materialistic culture breeds loneliness and despair.

Tuesday, March 15, 2016

Garden Cleanup

I'm piling leaves into huge brown Kraft bags for
the City Compost program,
I'm sweating in the heat, my hands buried in long
leather gardening gloves up to my elbows to protect
against abundant thorns.
it's coming along, I see blossoms and green shoots
underneath and am reminded of the miracle of
new life, returning growth, rejuvenation.
She, on the other hand, has closed her eyes against
the sun, positively baking, every black
inch of her body absorbing the heat,
she's barely awake,
but insists that she's supervising.

Monday, March 14, 2016

tug of war

I resisted.
He pulled.
I reminded him of how much I had done.
He reminded me that the original request
was in November.
it was March, now.
I reminded him I'm busy now.
He reminded me that they need the answer now,
and they asked me in November.
I caved, he won.
I gave him the answer today but
I won't accept lunch invitations
from him this week.

Sunday, March 13, 2016

daffodils at dusk

daffodils at dusk
on the back porch
we're wearing jackets
the cold is moving in
but I won't go inside,
the steam from the beef stew
fills my nostrils, the wine is
sweet on my tongue and 
you are here with me.

Friday, March 11, 2016

grandpa Stephen

a grandpa in training 
regardless of no experience with
I'd call it cheating.
dogs don't count, except
Buddy may be an exception,
I'll grant him that.
baby Gus likes the ride up high,
the funny faces and weird noises
I'm sure I'll be embarrassed at 
the other lessons he teaches,
it's boy stuff.
we girls just don't understand.

Thursday, March 10, 2016

I want that one

I want that one all the way to right
half way down
the one with the crunchy look,
they are what they appear to be unlike
the ones which are beautiful on the outside
and gross inside,
reminds me of Republican presidential candidates, 
slick and polished on the outside, filled with 
hatred on the inside
Perhaps we should eat them whole,
methodically eliminating their dogma
by the steady movement of the jaw,
the digestive powers of the saliva.

Wednesday, March 9, 2016

when I am 66..

Sher Schranz

please let me be as beautiful as her
when I am 66, with her blonde curls,
sculpted cheekbones and sunny smile.
she's my friend who never ages
I'm not sure how she does it without
a Botox shot, a facelift, liposuction
or any other cosmetic procedure,
she laughs me off, but I'm serious
I want to be just like her.
My friend, Sher.

Tuesday, March 8, 2016

a sentence that wraps its back

a sentence that wraps its back -
does it mean the period loops around
and becomes a Capital, or the words after a semicolon
repeat themselves over and over again
their sentences go round and round
like an endless semi-automatic shooting
Muslims and Mexicans, women and
anyone who does not look like them
and we believe that in the eye of the hurricane
lies truth and liberation,
instead of confusion and
the steady thrum of
gunfire and hail.

Monday, March 7, 2016

Who Says

who says you can't carry eight bottles of wine,
some expensive Scotch and a bottle of port
in a bike basket
just avoid potholes and ride a straight line
hope the basket doesn't fall off its rails.
it's not my fault the man at Liquor Mart kept
suggesting great wines, showed me where the 
expensive but smooth Scotch was, 
I'd never find it in that section, and
it was even on sale.  
and not my fault that the he said this was the
best port, and that was a good wine.
I love that guy.
I brought two bags for a reason and 
I filled them up.
who needs a car to shop at Liquor Mart -
I don't buy kegs,
I'm too old for that.

Sunday, March 6, 2016

Nothing to add

nothing to add
to the brilliant blues,
the variegated greens,
the yellow stigma waiting
each part sings its part
so beautifully

Friday, March 4, 2016

I'm OK

The keyboard told me I'm OK,
I just had to look
after all it's another week gone by,
no broken bones, friendships intact,
I might even get another cashmere sweater
if I'm good and ask nicely.
In the end, after I page up and 
wait a moment -
reflecting on commas, semicolons
and colons, 
I'll put a period on the end of it 
and call it a good day.

Thursday, March 3, 2016

the amazing human body

if it didn't hurt so much
i would have marvelled immediately
at the miracle of the human body.
after carelessly pressing my thumb onto a hot
oven coil, it reminded me of how i should
pay more attention in the future, but all forgiven
by the next day,
a numb outer skin containing a warm
bath of salty fluids against recovering
how amazing is the human body to recover
from our foolish mistakes,
forgive, fix and continue.

Wednesday, March 2, 2016


and so,
and so Spring is pushing up
through winter's solemn colors,
revealing her brilliance, her rigid green
stems, her lilacs and goldens, her 
spots and streaks.
let those who are somber slink into 
the darkness for now,
the sun is rising and we are called
forth to celebrate the beauty of Spring.

Tuesday, March 1, 2016

The Caucus Goers

overwhelmingly young.
standing in line for two hours to call
for change, calling for the old white guy,
feel the bern, they say.
i am standing  in line, my feet are cold
and i'd rather be home
this is civic responsibility in action
they voted for their man
they will live with him if he wins
that's the way it should go
we white hairs will all fade away.