9-15-01

Limantour Beach

A clutch of quail
is hiding
in this bush
at the base of a bluff,
and the sight of them tiptoeing
down the crevice,
playing follow the leader,
except for the one
that lost composure
or patience
and fluttered down
the last few feet,
has me waiting
ass on cold rock,
to catch another
heart easing glimpse.

I bet this bluff is
4 stories tall, no
maybe 5, one twentieth
as tall as the towers.
Unimaginable.

Everything is a
metaphor or a sign,
nothing is the same.

I don’t know how to
keep doing what I
was doing.

One moment I’m willing
to be willing, the
next I’m lost
far from the
right exit a distant
blue far down
Limantour Beach.
 
 

October 16, 2001
 

FA Days

I'm shrinking,
deflating down to
something stronger,
quieter,
able to sit in the
back corner of the
bus at peace,
and notice the
rusted giraffe
sculptures
on a roof
passing
by.
 
 

October 16, 2001

Love card

Floating together,
Tahitian cousins scrumptious
in their teen beauty,
collaged on a love card,
with old people doing Tai Chi
on the back.
A mistake.

We are already family,
loved but not seen.
On the phone I told you
my latest, greatest
and you were off
on a tangent
about a friend.

That's cool.

I burned the card.
 
 
 

October 20, 2001

Cardboard Thoughts

Cardboard thoughts,
stacked layers keep me
from peace,
dominos crashing
sever my perception
of perfection,
the moment
disrupted
continuously.

Think I'll relax and
put away the game.
 
 
 
 

October 25, 2001

Fall

Fall
not the more colorful autumn,
but fall
down within,
if not in despair, disgrace,
disgruntlement,
then fall in grace,

Parts of self detaching
sometimes, when a strong
wind knocks,
sometimes, just cause
it's time to drift
down,
spiraling,
to whatever ground of
being there might be,
to lie in reflection,
and somehow
become one
with the earth
again.
 

November 18, 2001

Such Joy in existence

Unraveling from the week, work, school and
a bit of absolute bliss,
too often forward fussing,
some moments of calming connection.

Such Joy in existence
A chime on the wind in
Thousand Oaks School park,
huge old pine, young redwoods,
children, people, dogs
and a crisp leaf smell.
Sunny Sunday morning on my back.

Such Joy in existence
Across the street stucco houses glow cream, coffee, willow, peach,
a shedding tree is still flame and gold in the breeze.

Such Joy in existence
to be Here long enough,
to write you this poem.

Thanksgiving Nov. 22, 2001

Wrens bounce from
hedge to oak to
sidwalk to branch
skipping, hopping,
flying en mass when
a man in a panama hat
pushes a stroller by
smiling in the
Thanksgiving sun.

The moments made glorious
by the reprieve from
forecasted rain.
There’s a surprising State
Fair smell in the air.
What’s a hint of cotton
candy doing when roasting
turkey is expected.

Dogs jingle by
and children’s high
giggling voices
bounce among the
young redwoods and
over the happy green
lawn like the wrens.

November 23, 2001

Angel by Robin - Stolen

My stolen angel smirks down today,
from her perch above my altar,
wedged between jewelry box and shelf.

My Daughter painted him for
my Mother 2 years ago.
I fell in love and haven’t mailed
him off yet.  Never.

Browns and creams,
a touch of magenta on the cheeks.
A small 5 x 7.
Yet worlds of wisdom lie behind
her elusive eyes,
mirth behind her full
closed lips.

An alien moon swirls in the distant
dark, bittersweet chocolate sky
behind his shoulder, as he rolls
his shoulders, stretching his
wings.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Poems from Poetic Medicine  January 2001  (and after)

Untitled 1/29/01

Sorry I ran into your electric fence,
Girl, am I sorry I ran into that electric fence.
I wasn’t watchin what my child was doin,
and she slipped out in a vulnerable moment.
Glad it wasn’t a speeding car.

My friend says we need to have boundaries,
so that we can individuate.
I sure thought I was already individuated.
Here at 50, starting from scratch,
big new city, big new university,
big new job, empty nest.
My dog lost his little girl, she grew up,
And I’m so lonesome I could cry.
Done individuated.

And that girl inside,
the one that came along for the ride,
that one that longs to dance,
longs to fit in,
longs to have friends and
people like her.
She sneaked out the back
window of my heart
went looking for
reassurance,
and got put in her place.

Sorry I bumped into your boundaries.

So come on into the kitchen Darlin,
I made Blue’s Clues maci-cheese, tuna fish
for protein, brown sugar tapioca puddin,
and we’ll have a talk.
 
 
 

If I

If I listen, smile and nod,
If I pretend to agree,
If I keep my opinions to myself,
If I act like the information is illuminating,
If I dampen my power,
If I muzzle my wisdom,
If I gag my anger,
If I play along,
If I listen, smile and nod

Will I learn?
 

There’s more

Remember lust and sex at 21,
remember being 14 and standing on a hill
  in a nightgown
     facing west
         feeling free,
Remember Zane Grey and peanut butter in the crotch of the elm.
Remember waiting in the bathroom for Gramma and Grampa to come over
  Christmas morning.
Remember pink milk, Mommy and hot summer card table teas,
remember the hammock and the Woods,
Remember the first time you pissed by the side of the road out west.
Remember Robin’s birth and the frustration and heartbreak when at 2 weeks old she couldn’t go to sleep.

I am the part of you that remembers, that aches, that thrills, that grasps in awe at January roses and magnolia trees in bloom.

I am the wind caressing your cheek and the soft warm bone beneath.

I am the rush hour traffic home, the 5 lane freeway, and the white egret flying overhead the other way.
 
 

Sometimes

Sometimes I don’t know what’s my One thing to do with my life,
here at JFK, here on the planet.

I don’t know where to look,
which lover, mother, daughter, friend,
speaker, writer, healer,
fortune teller, mystic
to ask.

Sometimes I don’t know the way, my way,

Where pebbles sparkle and speak,
where trees whisper wisdom,
and streams sing dreams.

and sometimes I do.