Thursday, November 03, 2016

Monument

In silence
in rain on the desert
pungent greasewood with that railroad tie richness
burning.

Coughing, gasping
they come
one, two, droves
crowding into the desert sanatorium
where water follows canyon walls
people trek now in Naugahyde boots, with sunscreen.

Swoosh with the
horse tails of old times
pushing away the flies with brushy yellow snakeweed
then
and now.

Geological, paleontological, archaeological, botanical
and a presidential proclamation.

Boom — monument created.

This is only human
really nothing is newly created
the ranches, with their melting adobes,
creaking windmills,
now leave the water
alone.


Monday, February 08, 2016

Human traffic


Working in the forest, cutting, sawing, dodging
No time, no money, no family
No escape.
Working in the houses, cleaning, chlorine surrounded
Digging, brick laying, walking the plank
No money, no family, no time
No escape.
My heart is hostage to fear,
My family hostage to pay,
My time goes by in years,
My children just grow without me,
Alone, always.

No escape.

http://www.greynun.org/what-we-do/advocacy/human-trafficking/


Friday, September 11, 2015

In the evening

The light is almost gone
putting out the garbage
doing my recycle duty
two neat bins to drag rattle clack to the street.

The avenue is empty, no sound, no other bins there
but I have started something
and down the street the rattle clack begins
all the neighbors come out
waving
rattleclacking
for the Friday morning sleep.

Just a little community connection
the blue bin for milk bottles, news papers
the brown bin for left over wrappers, kitty litter and diapers
something we all do
rattleclack.

Just one knot, one tie
one little leaf in the neighborhood language
a rattleclack thing, in the darkness
a dozen people who don't want to get up at 5 a.m. to put their garbage out.

Saturday, January 10, 2015

Posting time

So neglectful
Leaving the details of life behind like so many faeries
Bills, what's that?
But paper spiders floating around my ears leaving webs trailing over my hair.
But numbers marching over my toes distantly calling for attention I don't have to spare.
All this leads to disaster
and tired resignment to draw my consciousness
back and back to the magnifying glass so I can look for the details
so hard to find
in this vast adventure.
Who can look at ants when riding an elephant?

Monday, February 03, 2014

Resume

Who is me?
My eyes turn purple when I wear my purple sweater.
I wear Nikes with red laces.
I become part of what I do, I am an element, a blood cell, a section of a compound moving through the system with the existant around me.
I am a story, a news paper, a poem, a mother.

Experience
Catching the scent of fresh paint and lilacs.
Pushing a wheelchair full of hope colored welcomes.
Teaching reaching guiding holding.
Twisting words to fit the way into reality.
Swirling inside to match the people outside, understand, convey.

Education
Ocean, squabbling gulls, the effects of Alkaseltzer on gulls, on me
Desert, watch for the rattle snakes but know there are more flower colors here than anywhere else in the world.
Mountain, where the sound is only in the silence.

Management style
Light blue
Wrapping the forest whilst taking care of the trees
Seeing

Awards
Boys = three amazing strong hearts
Friends = with rattles in high places
Sisters = four across a web of steel

Professional organizations
Society of ethical ethics
Group of hat people in the plants
Leadership in Darkness
Heroes against heartbreak and starvation

References
My dogs, Axle and Zelda
My cello
The moose on the wall reflecting the wild peace
All the viking clans ever



Monday, September 23, 2013

What makes the heart soar

Hot air balloons in so many desires as they huff into the air
blow the fire whew
danger no danger
up and up and into the silence
Ripples in sheets coldness at the hearth
not warming bodies
warming air.

A house of my own
full of voices of children and grandchildren
or better, the night with heaps of sleeping love
so full, up to my hair in happiness.

The sky, the ocean
sweeping me under the vast eternity of stars
or starfish. 
Curling breezy mischief into toes, hair
What else is there
just life. Just sweet (with a little salt).

Monday, May 27, 2013

What use for children?

Send our babies in
posting C4 to trucks in secret places
throwing mortars under dusty wheels

Dark small hand
grime under chipped and broken nails
looking for candy
giving death

Child of mine child of yours
eye to eye dark and blue
whose eyes will be closed tomorrow?