Coffee
Immersing self in self
Serenity of grinding
And blending
Purifying my mind
And heart
Aroma infused within me
Immersed in that
Reaching a deep state
Of tranquility
Fall in love,
The sound of
Pouring,
You are in me,
I am in you.
Moonlight
When ready, the moon benefits you all.
So that all the moonlight is beautiful,
She confers other benefits at all the gods threatening her.
And then, when you ought to be sacrificing,
you are pouring libations and laughing.
He ought to spend the days of his life, according to the moon.
Twelth Post: Bare Feet
Bare Feet
A new decree was announced today.
Shoes were no longer allowed.
Bare feet only, or face a large fine,
For this is the rule of the land.
People need to feel the earth, the new government proclaimed,
The brush of a wind at their heels,
And the slickness of grass between toes.
The kiss of the sun on backs of ankles.
We would be more grounded,
More mindful, moving with care.
With bare feet its harder to walk
Over anyone smaller than you.
Bare feet only,
And you slow to a stroll
Watching where you tread,
Noticing it all.
Lopsided Green Stars
Those lopsided, green stars
Whose essence you’d collect
In the smallest places you could find
Where it wouldn’t be found
Thinking, if you got enough,
It would stop turning red
And then blue and red again
So you could become
Something else
Something new
Something past
Or just something
That really exists
in my perfect world
in my perfect world-
you are as dark as i am light
the difference is as clear as black and white
but the inside of me
sees the true color of you
and you become the same as me;
not just when under attack with bombs bursting in air
but on the subway and at the market-
when we are at the fair or running a marathon;
we can hear each other breathe
slow even breaths
and there is no difference between us-
you are as loved as i am.
Mind Your Step.
One step two step three step four,
I keep my eyes trained on the floor,
How many steps to get me there?
Do I have enough to spare?
I jump from here out to the door,
And try to save 3 steps or more,
The people passing on the street,
Are tired of counting with their feet,
For if we run out here we stay,
We’ve used our steps up for the day,
My quota left is getting low,
But I’ve still got many miles to go,
I’ve run out now, lost and alone,
Wondering if I’ll ever get back home.
12. my nieces and the bees
i.
My nieces bring me bees.
Strung on copper, hung from chains.
Each as different as my nieces
who do not know their own faces
ii.
While the bees who dance in darkness
can map for any sister
the way home. Can fly on wings
stronger than maps.
iii.
My nieces build themselves homes.
With a lover, a husband, a wife.
Each love as different as my nieces.
Spring and summer, autumn honeys.
iv.
My nieces drink the tea I brew for them
in cups that were my mother’s
that fit on saucers my grandmother painted.
So many women.
v.
I drop honey from a silver spindle
trail it like the scent of roses
beneath bee flight. All the bees are sisters.
vi.
My nieces breathe in harmony.
Their dances full of light
the light filled with wings. The bees
work in the late summer
while my nieces inhale exhale.
vii.
In the late afternoon, my nieces
ready for leave-taking. Fill sacks
with food I baked for them,
as if propolis was held within.
viii.
My nieces’ wings are music.
Each composes her own melody
She turns and spins within
the honeyed light of August.
ix.
My nieces make their own honey
as yellow as their towhead childhoods
as golden as their dreams.
My nieces work together in my kitchen.
x.
Early evening, and my nieces leave
for their own homes. Fold
their wings and walk upon the earth.
No one else knows that each
is part of something so much larger.
#12, This is.
Clatter. Noise. Dirt. Blood. Detergent. Toilet paper. Dog hair. Snuggles. Food. Music. T.V. Crafts. Money. Kids. Chaos. Family.
Love.
This is Home.
Something’s broken alright…
Such gentle, soothing words.
When I first heard this song,
he was Cat Stevens.
9/11 meant a day on your American calendar. (Europeans would write 11/9)
No genital mutilation.
No Sudan refugees. And so many horrifying political situations.
No reality TV. Imagine a world without KarTrashians!
How I miss those days.
Do I miss those days enough to trade:
The Kings winning the Stanley Cup
The Good Wife and Man Men and The Bridge and (the list goes on…)
google and all things internet (GPS and memory cards and flash drives)
digital cameras and plasma TVs
the Smart car
iPhones and iPads and iEverything
to get them back?
Would turning back time mean losing my personal amazing memories and experiences?
When I listen to the song again, I hear the meaning of the refrain:
Praise for creation.
Adventure Deferred
Endless tunnels to countless caves to inviting darkness
Hmmm
I seem to have forgotten my ‘walking into the mouth of madness boots’ at home today.
