Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Random A

Apples baked with cinnamon,
Postre panne thick on fingers.
butter, brown sugar, more cinnamon
You always let me lick my fingers
made sure I washed up after,
on my blue stool in your kitchen
You seemed ageless in your apron.
had embroidered mine with roses.
I was three, four, five and couldn't
imagine my world without you and
apples baked with cinnamon.

A for Abiding

seals souls
to one another.

is sufficent
to maintain
however life
or death assault.

requires only
only breath
welcomes life
cradles death.

seals souls
to one another.

In the Night

Guitar chord in the night
Why are you up so late?
Guitar chord in the night
Did a nightmare wake you?
Guitar chord in the night
I want to tuck you back in.
Guitar chord in the night
I will always be your mother
Guitar chord in the night
No different than midnight poem.
Guitar chord in the night
You will always be my daughter.

Monday, February 27, 2012

Benefit of the Doubt

So much depends on
whether I read your
brisk preparation to
get out the door promptly
consciencious or impatient.

So much depends on
whether you read my
need to move with calm
deliberation, no hurry
anxious or inconsiderate.

So much depends on
benefit of the doubt.

Saturday, February 25, 2012


Chia's dance
would be flamenco.
Back straight,
arms strong,
palmas clapping,
feet stomping,
skirt scarlet,
eyes flashing.
Flamenco would be
Chia's dance.

This poem is written in honor of my friend Mary Marsciano who died last weekend. She wrote, lived, loved with spirit and passion, never stopped learning or working to better our world, especially the lives of women and children. She died at 72 - sobers me. that's only ten more years and I have no idea if I'll get that many, but even in the best of circumstances I can no longer see life as flowing out before me in vastness. Time to live mindfully. i guess it always was, but especially now.

Friday, February 24, 2012


Don't fence me out.
I know it is your right.
It still hurts.

Sunday, February 19, 2012


Every life,
every marriage,
every family,
is an iceburg.
What we see
does not tell
much of the story.
Need to remember
to give each other
benefit of doubt.

Friday, February 17, 2012


Loss upon loss upon loss,
pretty patterns fade fast.
Ribs, spikes, textured curls
surrender to infinite patience.
Sea hones shell down
to essential spiral

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

I Know

There's something I know.
Death taught me.
Darkness and light
are both the same.
Death taught me.
Coming in and going out
complete the same journey.
Death taught me.
Future is uncertain
Love now. Live now.
Death taught me.

True River

The poems
change me slowly,
River of truth,
erodes confusion,
dissolves illusion.
River of truth
creates new channels.
carves out canyons,
polishes me naked
to stone, to bone.
The poems
change me slowly.

Monday, February 13, 2012

Body Blow

Sorrowful news,
long forestalled,
still hits like
body blow, stuns,
slows reflexes,
speeds thoughts,
pounds in head.
Fear, empathy,
transmute into
physical pain.
Easier to suffer
a migraine than
to get my arms
around your death
closing in now.


My fingers play with the stopper.
I recognize the texture, rough
threads of fear, smooth curves
of distraction, jagged excuses.
I built this thing myself.
I wiggle it a little, feel
the press of captured words
fighting to fly in full truth.
A few scouts escape, dance out
their tentative fragile patterns.
Sky does not fall. I keep breathing
My fingers play with the stopper.


I just want
to sit and knit
simple scarves
no pattern
one stitch
just color
Worst I can
do is drop
a stitch.
No one cries.
No one dies.

Sunday, February 12, 2012


I am afraid to write my thoughts,
my feelings, to let the feelings
flow into words - who knows what
lurks beneath the silence.
I hope I will let myself know.