30 September 2015

29 September 2015

28 September 2015

the night after

the night after the bloody eclipse,
the wounded moon recovers, swollen
large and obscured by scar tissue clouds

already this tired

deer die on roadsides
last day of summer weather
already this tired

27 September 2015

late to the blood moon

by the time I get there, the eclipse 
is on the wane, and the moon looks
small and hard and far away, like 
an angry marble reflecting all the
sunrises and sunsets the Earth is
starting and ending off to the sides
where I cannot see but still believe

the last dragonfly (gathering strength)

garnet dragonfly
rests on summer sun-warmed toe
before autumn comes

26 September 2015

riding in circles

He is riding his bike in wide circles, passing between my garage and my car in the sort of test of skill small children set to themselves while I try not to fall off the ladder in my garage as I organize and restack moving boxes.  He passes through again and again, and I lose my balance a little each time I see him out of the corner of my eye, but I never actually fall, and when I am finally finished, on the hood of my car (precisely centered) is a sprig from the crabapple tree I refer to as the cherry tree, and it makes all the half bugs I find in my hair for the rest of the night matter less.

23 September 2015

now it is autumn

purple twilights fall
more frequently now, like leaves,
now it is autumn

21 September 2015

Life and fortune

Sometimes life
is--like my most 
recent fortune cookie 
("People try thing, because they 
just don't want it enough")--
pretty much incomprehensible
to the folks on the ground.  Hang 
in there, anyway, and maybe try 
another fortune cookie?

19 September 2015

she is dancing

We are in the orthopedic shoe store, and she is maybe 3.  She is dancing around me, spinning and giggling and trying to be sneaky and noticed at the same time in that inept and charming way 3-year-olds can, and I make eye contact and smile a small sun smile at her as she twirls by in her unsteady orbit, and she smiles hugely at our shared secret and keeps turning, and eventually her mother or grandmother notices and blessedly laughs instead of being needlessly angry, and the grace is sweet and thick among the smell of leather and aging.

18 September 2015

the first mystic

He said, "He
was the first
mystic I ever
met," and some
day I want to
write a poem
about that, too.

16 September 2015

When I am not sleeping (much at all)

It's like every bit 
of progress and forward 
momentum disappears into 
the brain fog, and I am 
left with only 
the weariness and 
the grimly-held 
hope that the switch 
will flip again 
soon, so I can 
get the normal 
inadequate amount 
of sleep and 
recapture my 
scattered wits 
and will and 
write on.

13 September 2015

the difference between

I have been thinking about 
the difference between

thinking you are the puzzle
and 
thinking you are a piece, 
thinking you are the tapestry
and 
thinking you are a thread, 
thinking you are the body
and 
thinking you are a member of it.

12 September 2015

revenge of the dragonflies

I longed
for more
dragonflies,
but when I
sprawled on
the deck, they
tickled me
to distraction.
We studied
each other.
I wondered why
I love them so
much more than
other insects
with equally ugly
or even more
beautiful faces.
Jewel colors?
Sporty wings?
Pest-hunting
prowess? Inability
to do me any
real harm?

11 September 2015

another sleepless night

a moon so bright 
the shadows 
of the tree 
thrown on my 
white curtains 
at night were 
visible to me even 
in my blindness

10 September 2015

I blame Stonehenge

Between the cryptic
tonsils and the tonsilloliths
(don't look up pictures),
I feel justified in blaming
Stonehenge for all my
throat illnesses.  And
lack of sleep, too?

09 September 2015

watching dragonflies

the cold comes
suddenly and I

have not spent
nearly enough

time watching
dragonflies from
deck hammocks to

last me through 
the long winter

07 September 2015

nostalgia or eyeball floaters

was the sky
a clearer blue
when I was 
young, or could 
it just be that 
there are 
more floaters
in my eyes now
that I am older
?

03 September 2015

nightmare dogs of sleeplessness

At night
the light
from 
unevenly
spaced poles
can make 
even Tiny
Adorable
Dog into a
terrifying
creature of
nightmare
moving too
low to the 
ground with 
far too 
many 
legs and
its usual
silence so
endearing
in daylight
leaving me
jolted
breathless
with fear
clutching
my mail
and frayed
self-possession.



01 September 2015

TAI - > TAD

What is it about just knowing
that Tiny Adorable Illegal Dog
is not, in fact, actually illegal,
that makes me want to cuddle
and pet it even more despite 
the fact that legality 
has nothing to do
with allergies
?