Beyond the ribbed panes of the kitchen window swings a gorgeous plum and yellow philodendron; sweeping lacquered leaves catch the breeze half in split leaf, half monstera, a good name for such a beast! She belongs to our neighbor, who carefully disregards her day after day, neutrally striving to feed her natural sunlight (9-9:30 a.m.) and a sprinkle of cloud water from the Mountains … Read More Phytophile
Evening light pales into my windows from behind the palms, piloting in a fruity breeze to stir the pages at my desk. I’m 30 percent writing, 25 percent sipping tea, 9 percent listening to jazz beats & 63 percent certain my poetic Muse has taken the day off.
Fall colors warm her sweet face, deep reds and blushing oranges snuggling into the gentle wrinkles at her cheeks; the low light off the fading greens bounce from the brown of her sweater to my eyes, the softness I cannot myself believe. Contained in one tiny, aging human is the breath of ages seen and past— each petite wrinkle is a memory of … Read More Lewis Wharf, Boston; 1978
Borrow the car Borrow the flour Borrow the book Borrow the shears Borrow the money Borrow the tuxedo Borrow the pencils Borrow the clothes Borrow the tampon Borrow the vacuum Borrow the ice pack Borrow the envelope Do not borrow the soul. The soul is yours.
Hold hands with me. My feet won’t point in the direction I will them to, they’re on a loop and my mind is getting dizzy. Hold hands with me. I’ve been watching your stride. Your clean-limbed foot swing mesmerizes me. How can you keep so steady? Please hold hands with me.
Slow down. Whoa, slow down. There is a way to do this. A way to do it all without feeling pieces of shrapnel carving cave lines into the ear bones. A way to do it all and feel electricity in the veins, singular purpose so singular, elephants in the foothills.