Sunday, December 29, 2013

Flu

Flu, FLEA!

FLY, Flu!

Get the fleck outa here!

I do not like you, Flim Flam Flu,

I really hate you, yes I do!

So leave me be, evaporate!

For you to leave, I just can’t wait.

You make me shake with fever chill,

You make my stomach churn, not still.

Is there really not a magic pill?

I don’t do well with old Nyquill.

Smart body will kick you out.

Fever cook you, scream and shout.

There, that’s better, you Flim Flam Flu,


I’ve got the upper hand, now, Neener Neener POO!

Sunday, December 22, 2013

Sparkle in the Dark'll Bring us Out.. we hope

He says, “Cheerios are seeds for donut trees... put ‘em in the ground and see what happens. They’re gluten free... but only the holes.”

I laugh. “Do you suppose when we put people in the ground, they grow Peopler Trees... sorta like Poplar Trees - only with softer bark?”

“Maybe...”

“And is that how we get ‘Dogwood Trees - by putting dogs in the ground?’”

“Maybe... and they probably have louder barks than Peopler Trees!”

This absurd conversation goes apace - filling the time it takes to walk through the back streets and park towards home from the farmer’s market.

This is the dark of the year... the DARKEST, made darker by recent losses. We laugh to keep from dropping into the depths of darkest despair. When kids we know from camp go to the light, it leaves the rest of us in darkness of a pricklier texture than any other darkness we know.

While at the market this morning, we ran into our dear neighbor. He shared news of his family and the gratitude he and wife Cathy feel - mixed with co-arising exhaustion born of caring for their grand twins who are about five years old now and FULL of energy.

Our neighbor also spoke of a recent favorable review in the NY Times of a film he made some years ago about Sister Corita Kent. He walked a copy over this afternoon and we just watched it this evening - enthralled. I kept hoping to see my mother Barbara in the footage, as she was a student of Corita Kent’s at Immaculate Heart College, Los Angeles in the mid 1960‘s. The experience of watching bears repeating... so I’ll use the pause button on crowd scenes next time and see if I catch mom. I'd also like to linger longer on some of the serigraphs - just to take in their beauty and decipher the words.

Fresh from that colorful and moving picture experience, I'm all a-sparkle from several gems which are hallmarks of Sister Corita’s teachings. 

  1. We have no ART, we do everything as well as we can. (Balinese saying)
  2. There are some Rules and Helpful Hints for Students and Teachers (by John Cage) to which Corita Kent adds, “There should be new rules next week.”
  3. Ideas can come from anywhere.
  4. If you’re watching a movie, don’t blink or look away. You might miss some still photograph of great beauty or meaning or mystery.

There are actually two films on the DVD, each with many gems. 

Thank you, neighbor, for the holiday cheer!


Happy Christmas, Soulful Solstice, 
Quaint Kwanza, Neato New Year, 
Marvelous Merry-Making to all 
and and to all a 
Good Night!

Sunday, December 15, 2013

Dream Crystals Coalescing


t r a p 
     
          d

              o

                  o

                     r

           t  o  r  p  o  r



t  o  r  p  e  d  o   i  n  g      t h e     m i n d




mine                   
                                                                     fertile     

               field                               field 




                          which one will she find?




w  r  i  t  i  n  g       t  h  r  o  u  g  h      t  h  e      f  o  g     o f      w  a  r  

t  h  a  t      r  a  g  e  s     i  n     h  e  r     h  e  a  d



f  l  a  t  t  e  n  s      h  e  r      a  n  d       b  a  t  t  e  n  s      h  e  r  

s  h  e  '  s      d  r  a  i  n  e  d      a  n  d     n  e  a  r  l  y      d e a d



SHAKE me, SQUEEZE!   
WAKE me, PLEASE,”

she cries, “must catch a train!”


the ticket’s lost; 
don’t know the cost 
of   r e - t r a c k i n g   her   brain....



she's edgily emotive
could there be a loco motive?
good night bowl full of mush
good night old lady whispering hush

there... fore... she sits 
drowsily she re-collects 
fractured facets of the dream
hoping morning light will stream

to clear her eyes, reveal the prize
that crystallized last night
as she slept the idea crept 
and crouched - behind - just out of sight

IF the shaft of sun now streaming 
cannot show what’s born of dreaming
what’s the point of sleep at all? 
why the torture of blanched blank wall?

are we meant to apprehend 
what eludes us ‘round the bend?
perpetual game of cat and mouse? 
ideas fat with promise hide under the house........

experiences of childhood 
had to be repressed
energy spent to keep them down 
is gone, so she's depressed 



h  o  l  e  y    s  w  i  s  s    c  h  e  e  s  e   
w  a  s    g  r  a  y    m  a  t  t  e  r  
f  e  e  l  i  n  g    m  a  d  d  e  r 
t  h  a  n    t  h  a  n    t  h  e    h  a  t  t  e  r



striving forward all a-slant  
aching toward the sun to plant
this fresh idea seeded, deeded in the night
dwindling mental real estate's a fright


who can help this helpless lass 
the damsel swoons, she well may pass
drenched with sweat by labor pains 
her brow is wet; she grunts and strains

surely an  e n d  to work so hard,
that it might have killed The Bard,
has a p l a c e; will lend its g r a c e
to us thus plagued and lined of face

could  L u m o s i t y.com  be answer
to this creeping vengeful cancer
of aging brain from life’s huge dramas; 
shrapnel left by ancient traumas

let's scoop her up in tender arms
removing her from further harm
take her to some stout stone table 
in oaken glen I think we're able

to scrape out what’s no longer needed, 
compost the dross, freshly re-seed it

resurrected mind most welcomed, 
come home to her now and stay
the writer writes, having writ, 
moves on... into the light of day

ordinary tasks now call her, 
cooking, cleaning but feeling taller
she glides and hums, a soft smile thrums 
in her heart. she swallows

open mouthed she sings her treasure
remembered dream in metered measure
to be heard and read and savored
perhaps she’ll (later) correct the flavor

or not
still caught
by job descriptions all too varied
w r i t e r  isn’t one that tarried

long enough 
to make it stick
so onward upward 
that’s the trick

Sunday, December 8, 2013

Borogrove Mimsy...Screeners and Dreamers


Holiday hell-a-day hula day thrill

Whimsical Musical some vital fill

Why’re you, flier through plier too down?

People‘re steeple air feeble in town



Fly away try ‘n’ weigh Myron Q. dog

Mail away, sail away, trail a wee frog

Stitchery kitcherie split, dearie do

When’re you blender woo splendor to you?



Finery Spinery winery  Patch

Flagrantly fragrantly open the hatch

Mistletoe, thistle dough trestle the train

Fatuous, platypus out in the rain



Spinning wheel winning feel primal again

Gaining ground waning mound moon beams on hen

Holly Daze, Polly Graze piddly plays suck

Hooligan drool again who likes a duck?



Log on the fire, of blogging I tire, Playing with words to churn mud

Mind is a muddle I’d rather cuddle or bite my nails ‘til there’s blood

This is no fun, today, there’s no sun and I’m up a tree in the rain

So fetch me a log and sit while I blog with rhythms that leap from my brain.

The end.


Watching screeners all this week has left plot lines planted in my dreams...

Inside Llewyn Davis, American Hustle, The Hunger Games (first one), White Lies... all are entering into my sleep time. By the time 4am rolls around, I’m tossed and turned by the tide of images so that all I can do is get up and putter around the house. They say the surest cure for insomnia is to think about mopping the kitchen floor... you’ll go right out... they say. And if not, the floor will get cleaned.

The other morning, so early, all was dark out except for this...


Who spilled moonlight on the floor?

I tripped and slipped on three silver drops 

Which spun me into a silver-threaded dream.

Whoever you are, 

THANK YOU for the silver slippers.

I will look for you again 

On the floor

So I can dance

Next lunar cycle.

The very very very ve-ry end... a book report on Peter Raaaabit...

Sunday, December 1, 2013

Amazing Graze


Amazing Graze...

How sweet the taste

That fed a k’vetch like me

Pecan yams and greens

Cuban style pork and green beans

Took our time, but then made haste



We started out 

With brined turkey

Moved to collards, chard and kale

Potato Latkes AND potatoes mashed

Life is short

Try the chocolate without fail




Whatever you call

This holiday

Be it Hannukah,  

Thanksgiving or both

May you celebrate with a full plate 

You can diet again Monday