Friday, November 13, 2009

work

Some poems at this cool journal.

Saturday, October 31, 2009

travel













I was here and there
and now am back here.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

body clock

Out of sync, off kilter
wide awake
though around and about
is asleep, including I imagine
even the gargoyles of Notre Dame.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

snooze













Even the cats in Paris are aristocratic.
One of sights as I walked for about five
hours along the Seine,
into Nortre Dame,
through the Luxembourg Gardens,
also browsing ubiquitous book
shops, book stalls, as well as people-watching
in a cafe, got lost finally,
figured the route out (I'm directionally challenged) and collapsed.
What a sea change from July's red mesa-scapes.
Tomorrow I'm thinking BatOBus.


Sunday, October 18, 2009

flight

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

what the stars say


Horoscope for week of October 15, 2009

Were you ever a tiger in one of your past lives? If so, this would be an excellent time to tap into that power. If you have never lived the life of a tiger, would you be willing to imagine that you did? During the coming week's challenges, you will really benefit from being able to call on the specific kind of intelligence a tiger possesses, as well as its speed, perceptivity, sense of smell, charisma, and beauty. Your homework is to spend ten minutes envisioning yourself inhabiting the body of a tiger.

Sunday, October 11, 2009

away


















I know pretty pictures but it's nearly my birthday and it's playoff
season and all of a sudden all the leaves tumbled off branches
in wind andit smells like decay, which I don't mind in fact aside
from the smell of the ocean the scent of fall is one of my most
favorite, and I'm making soup for dinner and will probably go kick
some leaf piles later so there.
(I haven't really been away, just from here, but really
I've been around it's just that sometimes
I don't want to be here here.)

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Collaboration

Mesa Memo
1.
Re structures --
the horizon and its lack
of cluttery maples,
turquoise too.
Structure and turquoise.
A color with vivid gloss
like that door in an adobe gate
beat up trucks,
the blue car in a driveway's shadow.
An abandoned house.
And everywhere turquoise.

2.
Yesterday's weather moved
in strokes of rain over the high desert.
Blue-gray clouds flung the mesa
across the sky. The Chama
glowed muddy red and brown.
I'd forgotten about these colors.

3.
I see it: sight line
of the same old same old
you know -- it's always trees, bird
breakfast or collage:
to make a blue door
from an old sock is the conundrum.

4.
Off to find a river rock
maybe a mesa to take home
though they'll charge extra
in baggage, there won't be room
in the overhead bins
-- pack it in with other trinkets
adobe red, Chaco Canyon
petroglyph,
swimming in Abiqui


This poem and collage exist partly because Dorothee
Lang, editor of the BluePrintReview, asked that I
send her some of the writings posted during my
trip to New Mexico. So I fiddled and she collaged
and the result can be read here and at just a moment.
Check it out. Thanks Dorothee!

Sunday, September 20, 2009

Here

Stopped by the farm to pick up tomatoes -- the last of the season probably.
The place teemed with apple-picking families. The stand was filled with
'mums and I could smell the home made donuts. Fall is here. Leaves
are turning. It's my favorite time, October especially. I think
I've finally left summer behind, though for some reason it
took longer than usual to relinquish it. I'd still like one more sea
swim. I'm rushing through Frida Kahlo's diary (thanks Rebecca) so
that I can read it again. Amazing sketches, doodles, words, blots of
ink. Then onto other books. And to watching the fall climb
out of the skin of summer, shedding all that green.

Saturday, September 19, 2009

Beauties

from my friend Alexandra's trees



Peach

BY JENNIFER TONGE

Come here’s
a peach he said
and held it out just far
enough to reach beyond his lap
and off-

ered me
a room the one
room left he said in all
of Thessaloniki that night
packed with

traders
The peach was lush
I hadn’t slept for days
it was like velvet lips a lamp
he smiled

patted
the bed for me
I knew it was in fact
the only room the only bed
The peach

trembled
and he said Come
nodding to make me
agree I wanted the peach and
the bed

he said
to take it see
how nice it was and I
thought how I could take it ginger-
ly my

finger-
tips only touch-
ing only it Not in
or out I stayed in the doorway
watching

a fly
He stroked the peach
and asked where I was from
I said the States he smiled and asked
how long

I’d stay
The fly had found
the peach I said I’d leave
for Turkey in the morning I
wanted

so much
to sleep and on
a bed I thought of all
the ways to say that word
and that

they must
have gradient
meanings He asked me did
I want the peach and I said sure
and took

it from
his hand He asked
then if I’d take the room
It costs too much I said and turned
to go

He said
to stay a while
and we could talk The sun
was going down I said no thanks
I’d head

out on
the late train but
could I still have the peach
and what else could he say to that
but yes