thistles in the valley ~
honey bee throne and my voice is
trapped in the sweetness.

point me, directions are impossible
to discern, maps printed on whispers,
jotted on my sweaty palm,
wrapped in a windy day.

you are my double,
                                double rainbow.

i am the meme, that makes no sense.

the butterfly has been cut out of my throat.

i lost it,

i lost it because,
until the very end,

i was too afraid to use it.

so now,

i am
               butterfly ghost.

i am the cocoon dreaming.

full moon behind the black cloud night.

dancing with spiders on the back porch,
the screen torn by cat claw.
hushed, back-bend in the crescendo of
piano note and off-rhyme.

it will be a long time before the next
new song.

there are too many old tunes that cry out
to be remembered.

remember.

the day is hot, burning my hair to a color
beyond blond, beyond white.
the grass, a sea of emerald,
sheltering toads, red clover,
broken glass and prickly pears.

a brown, potato river.
runs beneath the scene.
scenting the air with earth
creating
my non-stop, off-beat sensibility.

bare feet, skipping and dancing,
slipping into the long-ago time.

she comes out, a goddess,
brown braids, growing down
and down again.

only she can turn the rusty, red spigot.
only she can make the rain fall on a blue
sky day.  laughing, throwing tan arms
into the air, we circle round and round.

we are thankful for the real, pretend rain.

we open our mouths and drink in the dream.

My daughter is at play rehearsal.  My husband is out running errands with his daughter - cracked phones surrendered and clean, clear replacements being sought.  My friends have just left and Sonos is still strumming quietly just beneath the surface of the quiet, still air.  Wachi is digging in one of the closets, running to hide when he knocks this thing or that to the floor.  The granite is covered with china plates strewn with cutie peels and grape stems, small ceramic bowls brimming with fresh cut lemons and gold-rimmed glasses, half-full but mostly empty.  The daffodils purchased over the frigid weekend, are blooming and filling the air with the musky, sex-soaked promise of the spring that is coming.

My list for planning out the 'happiness year' lays still and quiet on the dinner table (aka the art table).  My friends are shaping it with me, our wildest dreams, our deepest yearnings spilling out in typed print and jotted notes and sketchy doodles.  I draw the curtains closed so the passers by, on the road just down the hill, can't look in and see.

I take down a quote, I have copied and pasted ~ printed and carefully cut out ~ to my daughter's room and I lay it on her pillow.  I catch my breath.  Laying it on the pillow her grandma gave her two Christmases ago.  The pillow too expensive for a young girl, the silk pillow-cover swallowed in black night sky, stellar nurseries, dark matter, nebulas, ancient stars, black holes ~ I catch my breath.

"I have been absolutely terrified, every moment of my life ~ and I've never let it keep me from doing a single thing I wanted to do."
                                                                                                                                - Georgia O'Keeffe


And last year was the year of the embrace and the release.

This is the year of the re-imagined life.  5 generations, distilled into 2.

It is named and it is unfolding.





Dedicated with love to my daughter, who in all things is my teacher.  To my husband, who is in all things is my supporter.  To my friends, who in all things are my laughter.

my hair smells like raspberries and blackberries
and rosemary wine.

so many wrecks, the moon has gone of her track.

i am spell-bound, i want to say, "STOP".

but i just watch the backlash,
the very last crash.
it was a smash book poem.
it was the last mangled word.

she forgot, she couldn't remember . . .
she forgot, she couldn't walk.

she forgot, but now she can look back,

and she knows.

she fell before she flew away.

and where have they gone?

i gave birth to the ocean,
so take me back to her.
take me back to her.

i don't know,
but i am the liquid movement.

there are shadows on the shelf.

grandma spider will clean them away,

whisper them away as she wraps them in webs.

the sage wind blows, caught in crescent moon.
she is veiled, she is quiet in the candle light.

my husband stokes the fire and turns my
face towards the sunlight sparkling on the waves.

be warm in your heart, be young in your hope.
we are mortal and we are happy,

so be it and so it is.

and goodbye 2015, my sweet and sad year

all loss, leading up to you
has been but a whisper

sometimes we mourn, and it is okay.

you can be afraid.

i can be afraid.

we have been loved.

we have been loved and it is enough to for a life time.

breathe.

she is far away now.
beyond the poppy fields.

the days are short,
the nights are long.

all of her children,
are little again ~
tow-heads bobbing;
bright round faces.

they run around her,
and she watches them,
her heart fills and overflows.

they are the dreams of heart,
they are the ache in her bones.

their busy feet,
take them away,

small giggles fading away.

she is alone.

she calls after them,


"where did you go?"


"where did you go?"


then she curls into a ball,
and weeps a waterfall
from her broken heart.

and now there are two spiders ~

and they spin and spin and catch flies and live lives,
and they bite, but they do not bite me and I will let no
hand or broom sweep them away.

i took the wrong turn, it is fall and I am falling.

i took the wrong turn, ended up on the scenic road.

the sun is setting, dark clouds loom.

then the lake swims up all around me ~
drinking up the last bit of light.

water, quiet waves that lap in the pink and blue;
the whispered marina dancing with black shapes
and shady hues.

the fishermen are dressed in white, they are about to
call it a day.

and i laugh, i have my lost way.

i would have been a few minutes early,
now i am a few minutes late.

and i am just in time to watch the heron
fly away, and the heron flies away.

so here we are ~ September of 2015.

What a year so far, so breath-taking and so busy ~

This is my first weekend at home, without plans in almost 3 months :)

YAY!!!

Some time to putt around, clean a bit, work in the garden, make breakfast for my family, help Ella with her room at her dad's new house, spend time with husband, hike with my girlfriends and dream a little.

Perfect weekend, perfectly happy life even as storms gather on the horizon ~



Let's celebrate with music and dance and image and word . . .









Had to say goodbye to one of my dearest friends ~ Flynn, forever ~ that's all i can say about it ~