Lace Wings

His hands - tender
and big and calloused
cradled the lacewing
struggling to loosen
the web's sticky throttle
hold. Released, its gossamer
shadow flies off into the night.

His hands - tender,
and big and calloused
have likewise saved me
from entrapment. He opens
doors - setting me free. His yes
face and shining eyes assure
my return. He is my home, my light.

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Itinerate trobairitz
available to

tell stories
write poems

set tables
light candles

sing songs
compose meals

arrange flowers
kindle fires

hold your aching heart
catch your tears

kiss and wave Godspeed
on this sacred, perilous journey.

Testing for Marine Grade

Certified marine grade plywood
used for boats is stress
tested by boiling,
freezing, boiling again
and freezing once more.

The layers must stand up to pressure
without the lamination springing apart
under duress. It's not impervious
to water, but if joints and surfaces
are finished properly it
will stand up to wet and damp
without leaking as long
as maintenance requirements
are met.

I'm his workmanship, his poema.
He must have ordered marine grade
to build me. I feel some ribs creak
and the hull shudder, but I'm holding
together, maintaining momentum.
Elasticity keeps me from the scrap heap.

I recently heard about a young girl
who left food for crows who visited
her yard. The grateful
birds started leaving gifts -
stolen gifts, but over time the stash
makes an impressive collection - shiny
trinkets and odd bits.

My curiosity is growing
about a crow who's voice makes me shudder.
My curiosity is growing
about a crow with robber instincts.

I'm becoming friends with an amiable
and mutually curious, black-winged,
strong beaked, bold bird who visits
my back yard and bullies the robins. I know

changing my mind is doable. A clerk in a hat
shop helped when she plopped a black,
straw boater on my crown. It's cute - look in the
mirror, she said. The hat changed my
mind about a belief I'd held a long time.
I didn't think I could wear hats.
If I can wear hats - might I
learn to like crows? This could be
dangerous.

Impetus

Scott Cairns' forays
into holy mountain
pilgrimages and noetic
explorations leave the
edges of my soul wild
with yearnings girdled
by envy -- envy neither
green nor curdled.

Trees wait for children ...

Wonder Full

Water Dogs and Bird Baths

After a swim
dogs stand with four
feet planted steady
and shake their soggy,
baggy coat like
a washing machine
agitating a heavy load
prior to the spin cycle.
Water flies. They smile.

Birds bathe every morning
outside my window
as I drink coffee and watch
them abandon themselves
to frenzied flapping.
Water whips into a creamy
froth of ecstatic joy. Beaks
can't bend into gummy,
toothy canine smiles. In lieu of it,
they sing. I wish I could make
water fly and shake
my troubles off
in this exact way.

The New Homeless

I saw a young couple 

lingering in McDonald's

parking lot carrying new

bags stuffed with nice 

belongings. She didn't know

the pillow she clutched 

cased in white

would be the first soiled,

soggy item discarded. 

I wanted to beg them 

to turn around

and start over again 

at home before

the dealers

talked them into easy 

money, and a dirty death

requiring loyalty minus

clean sheets. 

Dry Ground

My breasts and womb
have dried up. I'm finished
nourishing new life.

I grieve the familiar
ways my body produced
these miracles.

Now - if only my false self's
ego would pause, dry up and be
done confusing me -
I could be fruitful again.