Tag Archives: light

spelled in spent flowers

not a good morning
but a thank you
spoken quiet and close, this
is the way the day begins
_______
there is no way of knowing
what’s next except for
moons rising and
sky sizzling with light and
words and more words and 
wheels rotating on the earth which rotates
around the sun which rises in the east and sets
in the west
_______
i joke about the patch of morning light
landing on my face, my thingh
quoting my own poem saying
that is me saying hey, good morning
while providing pro-tips of how
to safely exit and descend
the loft (also referred to as a treehouse)
_______
dyke-alike she says as we walk the bright white gravel
by chance both donning 
a blue shirt and a purple skirt
_______
swinging the front porch door open
for the final day to gather
around breakfast at the big table 
picking up the batons from our realy of running jokes
and heading off around the curves of the track
_______
the fucking question ‘yes, but what can writing/what can poems do?!’ i say when answering 
the what i’m leaving behind portion of my favorite transition trifecta of: 
one thing you’re taking with you
one thing you’re leaving behind
and one thing you’re looking forward to
_______
applause filing the room as i hand out
glitter-meteor-streaked certificates
honoring each recipient
as a real writer 
and how we shake hands
the gesture a joke
in a room of such intimacy
walking ourselves across the imaginary stage
from where we came from
to where we are heading
_______
comedically draped/position in the sagging hammock amongst hammocks
after the flurry of see you laters
we shuffle the deck to find out what’s next
since the only answer i had to the question was we get on those bikes and ride
the cards revealing
the bike and fireworks of
the eight of keys and the mystery/possibility/systme of the code 
_______
the two pages of brought to light fluttering
in the wind 
fastened to the porch with a half gallon mason jar
containing two rocks
(one blueish one red-brown)
_______
the word YES spelled
in spent flowers
remaining in the space that housed
a moonwatcher
a star-gasper
a lightning-beholder
a big cat
_______
hot enough in oklahoma to wash our sins away
i write down this lyric playing on the country station
and maybe it’s not so much the lyric
but how right a choice
the country station feels at this moment

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woven with green

the sound of big white chunks of salt
hitting a paper plate
as i rub them off before ripping soft pretzel pieces apart
and dipping them in the small plastic ramiken of ‘cheese’
a throwback to my work breaks
in the kmart eatery
_______
the wild edge of sorrow
 sharon says as we walk the mown path
past the old homestead
whose main feature at this point
is the metal windmill woven with green leafy vines that climb up
and back down again
_______
it’s beautiful  i say from the bench
alongside dennis’s grave
where sharon and i sit
sometimes holding hands
the rituals you have chosen
you are showing us
how to do this

the great golden and slightly pink light
(which makes me think of that rose gold jewelry)
showing in the west
while a sprinkle of rain pitter pats down
which registers as the recipe for rainbows and sure enough,
visible through a clearing in the canopy down by the sugar shack
just a part of the arc showing through
roygbiv in full effect

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the only detail that needs to be written

the only detail that needs to be written today is this:
i sleep in a loft and there are two long skinny windows up there – one at my head and one alongside me.
this morning, i woke up to catch the copper-orange sun glow in the sky, mottled by the woods i live tucked in, but still some of that redorange light meeting my greenbluebrown eyes.
i was super sleepy and heavy lidded and in this glimpse, i also saw what looked like a bat – perhaps the one that sleeps everyday on the exterior side of the wall that i sleep on the interior side of
so i laid my head down again before i turned over and propped myself, resisting with a ferociousness the heavy sleep wanting to roll back in, on elbows to just watch (one of my most favorite activities of all time – just watching, especially in a more wild setting)
another sight of a bat flitting by but then
(here is the magic) one small owl landing on the young maple trunk that leans more horizontal than vertical
gray in color and when i say small i mean about 8 or so inches tall
and then another swoops in and they do their funny head dance and for a while it is just them on that trunk probably not more than 20 feet from me
and then i notice a third on that very same trunk
and then one by one they swoop off to other branches and limbs where i can still watch them until they each swoop off yet again and this
is the world saying good morning
to me

_______
another detail (can’t resist)
wherein the phrase comes into my head
that goes you
have so much
to look forward to

_______
and a third, irresistable detail:
moonstar the cat
(who i must carry to my room
if we have a sleepover
because there’s a certain point where she seems to get too scared to follow me
through the dog terrain)
meowing at my window tonight
and how i can’t stop telling her
how brave she was
_______
ok, and a fifth:
the owl calls and hoots and shriek
10pm (barred owls, eastern screech)
going off overhead
and i feel like i am in a treehouse
sleeping with them
and in a sense, i kindof am

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the kind of blue that lets light through

yeah, we could call it burning the man
i joke while we all joke on the front porch at lunch about how sandhill
becoming a festival
at which dj deep dish is a wedding officiant
and attendees can choose from a menu of five options
of what kind of ceremony they’d like
(hip hop being one of them)
_______
wearing steel toed combat boots and walking in formation to sit at a desk in an office kris talks about the weird comedic experience
of being a fema/americorps volunteer
and how we wore these shirts that said FEMA in huge letters on the back
and it was like wearing a ‘kick me’ sign, people hate FEMA
_______
a kind of summer victory:
tightening the final knot of the final string of twine of the final tomato trellising
not that the plants are done growing
but that the Tposts are only so tall
_______
there is something quaint
about tying brown bags around already-bloomed sunflower heads
to catch their seeds before the birds pluck them out
some things are just
that simple
_______
the drone/whine/buzz
of two hummingbirds divebombing the red-yellow sunflowers
at the south edge
of south garden
_______
me in my sandals and skirt and sleeveless tee
walking west on the gravel road that i first cut my gravel-road-biking teeth on (literally)
sentence by sentence whispering intentions
my finger hooked through the water bottle cap
which dangles and sways with each step
_______
and the sky:
broad feathery streaks
of luminescent cloud
painted across it,
the sky itself a dome
painted the kind of blue that lets light through
and beginning to copper and gold-rose
at the edges
_______
from the water world

People take a foot bath at a park in Tokyo’s Roppongi district, Japan. – voice of america, day in photos

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but then we become the breeze

what wakes me is the rattle-rumble
of thunder (heard beyond the fan-in-the-window-hum)
moving in from the northwest and so i sit
in the early light on the porch in my pjs
(which, curently – due to the extreme heat, is a pair of underwear)
to feel the cool lilts in the breeze
move over me
before the first drizzle drops 
(a tiny bit of cool relief)
hit my skin
and i want to say something about this light
the whiteness of it
at an early hour
_______
already warm mica says
tying her cleats on
at the edge of the field
8am
sun pushing clouds aside and landing
everywhere between the end zones
_______
but then we become the breeze
and the motion of moving through
brings the built-in-cooling-power
of sweat
_______
the blighty dots on the leaves and some of the fruits
chopmed and damaged
how i curse the blister beetles in the tomates
as i pluck gold orbs
(some damaged, some not)
from the branches
_______
the bones suit
providing answers and guides
propped up against
my desk wall

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in the shade under

the flecks of rainbow
scattered across the desk as i write this
morning light moving through prism
8:31am

_______
and he’s everywhere on the court, people!  i call out
in my commentator voice as emory and i shoot hoops in the gravel road/driveway
and emory says it (‘everywhere’) sounds like ’emorywhere’ 
so i keep announcing saying
emorywhere is emorywhere on the court, people! it’s amazing!
_______

too cold  i say of the pond
but before i know it, emory and i are floating
around on the huge innertube and then
each of us on our own tube tossing
the basketball
splashing in the water
_______

the quart of dried persimmons
(harvested from this very land a year or two ago)
that darien passes around at the weekly meeting
taking place in the shade
under the cedar tree
_______
dottie and i joking in the early-night kitchen
about salted butter as an ancient grain, a superfood
_______

Cars are submerged in a flooded road as heavy rainfall hits Guangzhou, Guangdong province, China. – voice of america, day in photos

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brighter/better

jordan asks about the pressure, explains about the scapula, moves quietly about me in the perfect-temperatured room (70 something) in her bare feet

unfraying the twisted knots layered so deep
under the surface of my muscle/skin
_______
dottie, cynthia, eric, darien and i
at a picnic table in the gazebo which is not a gazebo but i can’t recall what darien so perfectly called it
some of us licking the slow drip of chocolate vanilla soft serve swirl
and some of us licking the melt of a rice dream frozen treat and some of us
not partaking at all
_______
it is the kind of day where
the sun couldn’t shine brighter/better
and the clouds couldn’t puff or contrast (against that bright blue) any better
and the wind couldn’t feel any less than perfect
on our faces as we roll up/down the county highway
with the sun roof open
_______
how even the envelope itself
(the one postmarked corvalis
with sole’s handwriting
across the front and back)
has a scent
from just being near oil (doterra) spray blends
_______
one spearmint sprig
and two peppermint sprigs
plus some stem of sweet cicily
plucked from herb garden and beyond
and dropped into my stainless drinking cup
how i prasie this season of
growing things
_______
smoke em if you got em  i joke about the rosemary
when trish (tonight’s cook) instructs eric to go grab some from the greenhouse and says there’s one that looks dead, take from that
_______
the hot pinks and dark red pinks and shades along that spectrum
of the sweet williams coming up
in the back of the herb garden
from which i pluck just one cluster
to add to my wild flox and sweet sicily and that wild yellow flower
whose name i don’t know
_______
how the light of the moon
is water-like
as i move through it, then,
i am nightswimming

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