Tuesday, July 31, 2012


It's funny how a city changes things;
I80 West.
Rewind and Freeze.
The beauty of a different art museum makes a world of change. 

Checkered Blankets.
A smile, a touch, a smirk,
Knowing looks and a box of cupcakes.

I remember the hair tuck.
Behind the ears--
It reminds me in a good way.

A hill too steep
A beach I'd like to stay at.
It's windy--
Hair blown.
You block the wind.

Father Time is finally on my side. 

Tuesday, July 24, 2012

The Road to Yellow

Life is composed of various paths and journeys. These paths and journeys often lead us to places where we never thought we could go. Suddenly that which we thought we lacked courage for is the very thing that causes us to abandon ship.We hold down the fort and learn to camp in dirt while the wilderness calms itself.

As a very dear old friend pointed out today, I am much more eloquent in my writing than I am in my speech. Perhaps that is because I have the gift of the edit button and the sense to proofread while my mouth lacks the backspace and malfunctions with speed. Who knows; there is an intellect disconnect, and I choose to believe it will be an endearing quality one day.

I have been on many journeys, you see. I like to think I have relationally traveled the Americas and seen many sights. I would not change a thing, you know. Why? Because once your eyes have seen the beauty of Wisconsin contrasted with Death Valley, you are a changed person. I am educated in matters of the heart, and I have graduated Cum Laude.

I began these journeys running full speed like the athlete I am not. I think it whipped me into shape enough so I learned how to walk. After walking I decide stagnation was a good rest. So I have done the marathon, stayed still, walked, crawled, and lied on my back. I think I am ready to run again--I'll start slowly this time, though. I'm about the warm-up these days. I'm about needing to catch your breath and feeling the soft winds of new on my face. I'm into surprises, hiking, and freefalls...except I plan to take my rope for a while.

It's a terrifically terrifying thing to be free and in very little control. It's like the old times--- Except healthier. We all know I'm all about health these days.

 Especially if they make beautiful brownies with me.


Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Batting of Eyelashes

My pearls hang straight.
It is exactly the time you chose
And the coffee stains on my apron dry quickly
As not to disappoint the image of perfection.
I am a lady.
Eggs over hard and sourdough Toast--
Cast-Iron Skillet.  

There, There
Pats on the back with
Intertwined fingers
The cookies are almost done baking.

Don’t cry, and bite my handkerchief
I hand it to you and put
Salt in my eyes to dry them
Before mascara touches your shirt.
I ironed it and it’s perfect that way.

We walk, laugh, and smile,
And Ice Cream coats the Sweet Tooth.
I go home, hug and console
Lock myself in
And throw poems in blankets.

My Pearls Hang Straight.
I guess it’s only duty—
Most likely of my own making.

The pie is burning!
I’m a lady. 


Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Spiders in July

Rising and Shrinking

   Falling and Falling

        Further and Farther

                Away from little voices reminding me

                                                                        Where this land exists.

And it’s colder than it ought to be in here.

Blue spider’s venom

And purple veins

Crystallize these arms and legs

Sliding up

A cactus

                                                         And the map has turned inside out.

Arizona feels like Arctic

And penguins switch partners

Like Rabbits

Eating away at that which is not theirs

And the garden sings major fourths

To the give brides fertilized isles.

(though I want sagebush to scratch their feet.)






I will be silent

Sleepy and too tired

Awakened inside

Alive and breathing.

Oh, Breathe.

Believing in sun.


Born to love in flames

Beneath that

Yearning I feel in purple veins

                                                                    Holding spiders webs closely

And it’s frightening to know exactly what you’re thinking.

But I know not the web inside:

Radically resisting

Aching and

Crashing and

Hoping and Praying

Everything will resist

Lilies and fields of green.

                                                        And it's made in the terrace of Rapunzel’s mind.

The Tower has a Door.

The Tower has a Door.

And many posses keys.