Tag: art
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THE OTHER PLACE
I can’t decide if it’s real -this place I visit in my mind- a parallel universe or only real imagined copy-pasted pieces from every magazine I’ve ever skimmed, the hundreds of storied books I’ve read once or twice about women and what their lives could or should be like. This place I’ve created (that lives contentedly…
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becoming water
when it became clear the cancer was going to be the thing to kill her; that the slow growing malignancy in her brain was going to be the thing to carry her away from us, from her body, from the beautiful life she’d created, she booked and kept her annual reservation at a yoga retreat in Costa Rica…
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Paper-whites
Truthfully, I hoped you’d ask about the Paper-whites. About their 4 x 3-foot patch of soil, about the piece of hand-me-down wrought iron fencing behind them, the single stake with the pointed spade missing between stake 5 and stake 7. I could tell you about my mother, Sandra then and for a few moments at…
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the eyelash on my cheek
it’s too soon to give it up the familiar galaxy I sometimes feel beating the gape of my chest. its flutters have wings, ancient and strong and still, I don’t yet know how to make it fly; don’t (yet) know what to do with it besides know that it’s there and it needs my…
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SIGNS of LIFE (a year in review)
APRIL 2, 2024 today bone white springs where a face use to be “remains” we call them dying proof MAY 7th, 2024 today a new moon arrives and so we finger paint with our feet JUNE 18, 2024 today clouds like typed lines in a blue sky they write themselves JULY 12, 2024 today a…
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the kitchen sink
burnt cookie sheets and cutting boards with cuts older than both children cream cheese smears of everything bagels gone by unidentifiable black and yellow bits of spongey, slimy What-Have-Yous last night’s ________________ soaking in the dinner pan 5 cups of assorted measurement for sugars and nuts and…
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the Scarf
begins a vacant sweater empty, inherited wool itchy and unbecoming easily caught up, I tangle and hang by each thread pilled and snagging on every pattern every thorn I have. the threads expose my inaptitude bring light and shadow to my weakest equilibriums. I find (in time) a pencil eraser worth of footing…
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february signs of life
2.3 today a roadtrip to DIA for two-hour beers with my best good gal 2.4 today the roses tiny & sprayed 2.15 today it is the Gerber Daisy I wish to emulate 2.17 today, together we build flowers 2.21 today a small chocolate 70th birthday cake (smiles & tears) for our Tony, our grandpa, Our…
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the Iris
The truth of the poem startled me when I discover it layered up there with the brilliant prose and the heart-aching imagery It feels like an intruder: seated (settled really) in a darkened room of my own making it’s true though there is inherent sadness woven deeply into kindness, isn’t there? It’s the reason I…
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january 2025
1.1 today a blank page 1.2 today a wristwatch gold & clinking like my father wore 1.3 today the second walk of the year burrrr 1.4 today fog so dense it illuminates 1.5 today frosted roads and ethereal treetops…
santos scribes 