Monthly Archives: February 2013

……. We are tumbled rebels, held together with ink and string. We hold sacred things in trembled hands. We are masters of no universe, dispersed and well versed, quill-dipped and dis -stilled, willed for more than parchment and pain. We … Continue reading →

…. So sing me a blue note, a merciless new note, a light exceeding -ly complex and unfathomably intricate. Hold it loose until it collects its own concentrated sealed magics and lines them up one by one in a distinct … Continue reading →

…………. We were no more than pranksters, really; naïve tribalistic summer of love rebels embraced in a series of magic mushroom moral panics and myriad forms of self (inflicted) aware -ness. We arose the jive, beatnik balance of up -beat … Continue reading →

(a descending Fib) … She sings and flings and remembers lost wonderings and spreads her wings again. Only then does she remember that what goes up must come down.   …

….. Attack the day and play with all the pretty words scents senses flowers. Spend hours weaving something fragrant in your hair (posies are nice, but prose will suffice). Shake your …….(bootie) head and rub your tum. Then lie back, … Continue reading →

…. Give me a chance to sing and I will hold these wings at bay, collect your shiny pieces and someday and weave us home. We’ll let gravity do its bidding, ridding ourselves of both feather and flame, tame these … Continue reading →

….. Ommmmm. Ommmmm. I am too tired to write a poemmmmm. Ommmmm. Ommmmm. A single phrase feels like a tommmmme. Ommmmm. Ommmmm. My rhythms have no oomph to roammmmm. Ommmmm. Ommmmm. The keyboard’s here, the muse ain’t hommmmme.   …..

 ….. Abby, 10 years later. Happy Birthday, Baby Girl.  … Just 8 months into this parenting thing, they discover a little pseudo “flu bug” and a little pink line that say they are in for one more. Quick like a … Continue reading →

….. She’s got flawless henna laced skin and burgundy wine lips and slip -cover hips and gentle flowing chestnut hair and smooth smooth skin that goes down to there. And then, it’s all scales and tail and moisture-hungry lack of … Continue reading →

… We are prophets without …….(patience) limits, gazing through moment -ary tears and watching promises fall at feet clad in clay. I fly, unhinge my center and loose a glimpse of home …….(sublime) only to discover I cannot discipline these … Continue reading →