Between Light

A million, billion

Lights lift in our wake.

A million, billion 

Bioluminescent things,

So small, they

Wink and disappear.

Above, North Star

And Southern Cross,

One vast ocean.

Adrift between 

Heaven and Earth,

Incapable of making light.

Nevertheless, we glow.

On the San Juan Streets

On the San Juan Streets

When I was young and hot --
or so I thought --

I, too, wore those shoes
And that strapless mini dress;

I could compete with all the rest
Of the babes who looked the best...

Now I watch the men watch you
in your Ferragamo shoe.

My heart and bunions ache for you!

What It Is

What It Is



Mornings, at the bus stop,
This one stands scraggly haired, and apart.
Solitary, sour at seven a.m.,

And I think, why not?
Poor thing, you're an American teen
Who has everything.

I'd like to hook my fingers
Through the holes in your jeans,
And plop you down in Kenya,

Where Awiti, just your age, sends one child
To the school that cannot meet
When it rains.

Or we could go to some war-torn land,
Or Haiti's slums...
But really, baby,

Everything is relative.
It is what it is, you stoically say,
Enduring your four bedroom life.

Your hundred dollar jeans
Are as full of misery
As the dust that settles

On the back of the boney cow
Herded through the dirt
By an African child.

Lines Written Upon Feeling a Warm Breeze on My Face for the First Time This Spring

Don't put me in the Narrow Bed
When at last I lay my head...

If dust -- as chimney sweepers must--
Then in the air my mettle rust --

The wind to blow upon the bones
A melody of cheerful tones,

The sun to warm a cooling heart...

A feast of CULINARY ART
For worm and grub and bug and crow...

For Pete's sake, better lay me low!

Pickle and stuff my empty shell --
Just save me from the maggot's hell!



This started out as serious thought, but even I recognize how bad it was, so...voila: Compost Tea (of me).

Happy Poem in Your Pocket Day!

D is for

D Is for

Aurora mixing pigments,
Titanium, cobalt, ivory black.

Coattails of the night,
Pulling possibility
Like a banner.

Revelation: Tree come into Leaf,
Mountain against Sky.

It is forgiveness and redemption,
Scattered second chances
Like the stars.

C is

C is


The worm in the apple,
A poison blooming,
Anchored, spreading roots.
I am become Amazon,
Shooting down the fruit.

Prune this garden;

Slice and shrink,
Burn everything away!
Burn the worm from his house.
Burn all except the wood
And the spirit of the wood.

Leave the spirit of the wood
For future fire.

B is for

B is for

The way light
Changes as it
Filters through the glass,
Entering a hard beam
And leaving a scattered
Sparkle of delight,
The way you fold me,
Knees tucked into knees,
Elbow cradled
Rib and hip,
The way I crook my arms,
Bend my head and croon.

A is for

A is for


Low hanging, ripe
Congregation of seeds,
Pulp and skin.
Maligned, medicinal,
Sultry, drowsy
Sweetness.
Sticky nectar, rolling
At the feet of the gods.

Passion

Passion


That whiteness --

There!

Slinking low to ground,
Trapped in a maze of

Things

What are you,
Running through my night

Vestige of a dream,
Divinity of fear --

Trip the light,
Pale shadow of my soul.

Find the gate and disappear.

Lady

Lady, last seen in the silent roar
of the vast good-bye --
indigo adaptation of night,
stealing the sun
to roar like a daisy
across the zig-zag sky --
Phaeton gone awry,
burning, stout-stemmed sapling,
thorn in the story of grasses:
sketch your tawdry meadow.
Twist your tawny, ivied arms;
shun the cloistered shadows.
Burn the skies with your strong fire.
Leave me blind and reeling.
Leave me smelling sulphur in the night.








Sometimes, even I don't know where they come from! (And, yes, I know I ended that sentence with a preposition and began this one with "and.")

I saw the Pre-Raphaelites at the National Gallery of Art in Washington, DC, this week; Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads suggested some of these botanical words and phrases, and Poets United asked that we write about "woman" for International Women's Day. It all came together as this! Voila! Who knows?