Monthly Archives: December 2011



I pity the underpaid

high school English teachers

who have to read

the journal entries

they assign.


I cringe reading

the ancient pink notebook

with blue ink doodles

and page after sordid page

littered with the trash

of my adolescence.


I swallow the impulse

to send out

a public service announcement

letting former classmates,

teachers, boyfriends, etc.

know that I am not

who I was.

Flight of Fancy

Flight of Fancy

No matter how many journeys they make

the geese will always grab my spirit

each time they fly over,

wings swishing a ticklish breeze,

voices echoing off clouds.

Tonight dozens of swishing, echoing arrows

flew under and around the swelling moon

as the sun reclined behind the canyon

leaving the burnt orange of dusk in its wake.

How marvelous it must be

see your silhouette etched into the moon,

to caress the changing colors of the sky.




When joy attacks me

I want to infect

the rest of the world

by sneezing kind words,

 coughing up gratitude,

spewing smiles at everyone I see.


If only it were so simple

if joy was as contagious

and persistent

as a virus spread by kissing

or germs lingering on shopping carts.


I sprint on tiptoes across frigid tile
hop in with a splash.
Heat overwhelms,
tingling my chilled body.
Scalding water entombs me,
the only way to thaw my blood
on these cold, damp days.


Tiny candle flames
cradle this sacred time,
celebrate this indoor warmth
while cars slide down icy streets
and pedestrians shiver up sidewalks.


Vapor slinks off my goosebumps,
rising into dim lighting
like spirits ascending—
exiting the chaos of my day,
evaporating into the tranquility of my evening.


I close my eyes,
imagine myself in another time,
another place,
the Highlands of Scotland, 14th century,
bathing in a natural spring,
flesh bold in crisp mountain air,
moonlight exposing earth’s perspiration,
steamy ribbons undulating toward the stars.


In this fantasy
I am goddess,
I am complete.
I fill the pool,
the pool fills me,
amniotic fluid flowing
between earth’s body and mine.


I swallow the moon,
the moon swallows me,
eternal nourishment sating us both.
I release my joy into the lonely hills,
taste its sweet echo.


The ecstasy lingers
as I return to mortality
in my white, porcelain tub,
divinity flickering within me.

The Mind Attempts an Answer and Finds More Questions

The Mind Attempts an Answer and Finds More Questions

The snow tonight floats in a slow tempo

as if the flakes are avoiding the ground.


They tumble with such grace,

suspended and lovely,

perhaps they are putting on a show.

For whom?  Who choreographed it?  Will anyone applaud?


Or maybe the freedom and movement

bring so much delight

they are trying to stretch the experience

as long as possible.

How do they slow down?  What else brings them delight?


Perhaps the sky holds them back,

reluctant to surrender them to the earth,

fearing the lonely ache

left in their absence.

Do they say goodbye?  How does the sky grieve?

The River, Early Winter

The River, Early Winter
Night-colored water rushes forward
even though the cold
has bludgeoned its shores
into stiff walls
incapable of movement.


Fallen leaves glitter
like jewels in the snow.
Bold willow branches
wave their red audacity
in the face of purity.


Snowflakes tumble
from the sky’s pink pores,
joining the flow,
another cycle complete.


Naked trees shiver
while birds,
fat with food and feathers,
punctuate their stark poetry.


Ice murals preserve
memories of seasons past,
while the river sews
intricate patterns
into their collars.


Stillness spreads
among shriveled fruits,
dried grass, abandoned nests.
The world tucks itself in for rest,
the humble lullaby of the water
promising life’s full return.