Here are my reasons for departing:

the fact that editors can't get on my site

the fact that I can't get on to read my favorite bloggers

the fact that there is not enough art on this site -visually it is pretty blah, save for a few photographers

So adieu, just Google me and you… Read full post »

Sin of my father stains sheets,
binding me in death-pains sheets.

Sky today bleeds peach cloth
as girls bleach out stains in sheets. 

Cracked hands awaken to ache,
imprisoned in wet plain sheets.

Burned, scraped and cut, our skin is,
we fold paper cranes in sheets.

A thousand perfect bright clo/… Read full post »

Those who know me, know that I struggle with asthma.  Finally, with five breath-breaks, I, with my family, made it up the inclined trail to the second reservoir.  A bandana over the face does wonders keeping out the frigid dry air, but I did look like a hills bandit.  Had fun… Read full post »

If the song is palpable
then be scared, for
the river will flow skyward
and wood will wax-drip.

Fish will join in the singing,
the carp with the bass notes,
the trout with the tenor,
and that tiny crawdad soprano,

but, honestly you should shut
your ears to beautiful death,
your eyes to the catastrophe.

Choos/… Read full post »

The Whiner

Nothing is ever right for the whiner, whose sole purpose for logging into Facebook is to share his or her misery. “I couldn't sleep last night. The world is a swirling, swirling pit of despair into which I am sinking.” Normally, in a crowded party, you would/… Read full post »

In the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, weather, capricious, drifts over the peaks.  It can be sunny and in the sixties one late autumn day and snowing and in the twenties the next.   The light here can be like flames at sunset or gentler and the shadows are long against… Read full post »

After Birth

thread through my lips
part of me ripped
then sewn shut
please shut this door

I think as the breast pump
whir kerchunks wer kerchunks
in its own foreign language
almost Germanic

flesh is like a skinned plum
but redder
with blue tributaries
it is strong and weak

… Read full post »

Prayer for Passing Through
(for Matthew Shepherd)  

Early September, 
Laramie is thirsty, 
rocked in the cradle
of dry grass hills.

Wind-scrubbed survey
of sky will play a new movie
Rain will fall from dark cloud urns
on plants with clutching 
finger-roots.

Tattered cloud swatches
will be sun/… Read full post »

Cover of the Village People's album with the Y.M.C.A song on it.  

1989 – theoretically, I like the idea of women being strong, so I take the women's weightlifting class. I had tried to get into the dance program at my college, but it was all about technique… Read full post »

The Moon Tonight

looks like a big-headed woman
bawling her eyes out
mascara running down
like Tammy Faye Baker

Turn my head side-ways
and I see what the Aztec's
saw – rabbit in repose
like Durer's painting

It is the princess' golden
ball in the well of sky
I, a fat waddler, slick
skinned swim up

onl/… Read full post »

Concerning the Girl

the clean surfaces of the girl
her leaves – her moon snail shells
continental rift under the ocean of her

finite lives of spiders curled in her skull
the torn forest in her chest
spy-minded raids of sister's room
hard seams in the rocks of nun's faces
the propellers stolen from t… Read full post »

Dawn Break

Finally able to walk out my door and enjoy the view.  No longer row upon row of houses that look the same and green, pristine lawns, but sunrise over the neighbor's farm.  At night I can hear P's donkeys and am struck by how much they sound like cavorting… Read full post »

Brooding Woman by Lucy Simpson

IPAD ASKetch program and Picassa 

Woman in Snail Shell  by Lucy Simpson 

 IPAD ASKetch program and Picassa  Read full post »

Cascade of Orchids

This is the first orchid I've had that has bloomed long and well.  Love the flesh-like look of petal backs, like delicate veins in skin.

 Black and White Orchid

A zebra's stripes at its center and soft ice petals.  Close-up, it is a landscape to be… Read full post »

Pablo Picasso's The Tragedy 

A man and a woman
cast out, pricked
by an angel-sword 

Nakedness clothed in drab
They do not look at each other
only inward to the god-scarred place

Only the boy tries to prophesy
for he cannot help it
It is in his holy-bones

He sees past the… Read full post »

On Saturday I saw a tower of  smoke, from a fire in Waldo Canyon.  I didn't think it would rush over the mountains.   I also didn't think it would cross east over Highway 24.  On Tuesday it spawned massive fire tornadoes that roared through two neighborhoods to the south of… Read full post »

She looked up. “Bad weather to the south,”
he said. She was glad to be home.
She had just closed the door, when
a hailstone the size of a russet
potato fell into the yard, smashing the purple
and white petunias.

There was salt in the air from off
the limestone with its ground-down
ancient/… Read full post »

Toes of the Buddha

Even Buddha had toes that wriggled in grass and sand.  As a baby, he played with his toes.  As an old man, he bathed them in a stream.

Buddha Holds a Vase 

It's a small thing really like most of the worthwhile things in life.… Read full post »

God strolls across the snow-scape,
the wind-scraped fields,
the ice-stymied creek,
cradling an old banjo,
finger-worn Pegheads,
the skin-greasy hide,
still tight on the head.

He likes Ole Joe Clark
and Shady Grove,
but he loves the sad songs best:
Lady Margaret, Ballad of Omie Wise,
Will the Circle be Unbroken./… Read full post »

The Gossip

 

Black Cat

    

Mrs. Minotaur  Read full post »

In fourth grade, Sister Catherine Anne, ruled the homeroom.  Big as a tank and as unlovable, she taught us our basics, calling us names and humiliating us. It was in a lovely brick suburban Catholic school that we were imprisoned for six hours of our day, save for PE, art… Read full post »

Listening to Manic Depression
I hide behind my shades
eat salade nicoise in the sun

Take in a woman spilling out
of her red cowgirl
dress – her boots up to her
dimpled knees

She sings Jimi's song slow
Bipolar - the frenetic notes
in my family anthem

One that probably began
on an Ethiopian plain
when god/… Read full post »

An area is more than its landscape, more than its buildings, more than numbers in a survey.  The people are dynamic, are changing their enviroments, are creating.  

Yesterday the family and I went downtown to Colorado Springs.  I love to watch people and enjoy conversations with strang… Read full post »

I

Wolf spiders hop between the knuckles
of a thirsty Chinese Elm

Her hair is perched on her head like a well-oiled cat
in this blue-holy-hour-chapel-quiet
Sleep the murmuring noon bees

Little children are dying somewhere
as sky tallow melts over red rocks
The keys to the garden are out of reach

Our leaders,… Read full post »

The Rockies are a forbidding place of boulders, wrinkled as elephant skin, but motionless.  Something seemingly intractable resides here in this landscape.

 Weather Moving

Yet, the water of the Tarryall river is flowing, speckled by light.  Snow has fallen on a dry… Read full post »