knowing (part four)

you jumped

skipped, hopped over

eight years gone missing

the quiet of forest -misleading

as the twisted twigs show

the contortion of thought

peeled slowly…

you had every reason to believe

the smile, wink and nod of moonlit glow

was your savior unknown.

*my photo

knowing (part three)

you inherited the chive patch
knowing
picked blossoms fail to seed
saving you time later from unwanted guests -so

fill a jar with rice vinegar
bathe the purple buds
in time, pink flows

covering life in marinade
saucy joy splashes high
above the growing grass
menial tasks put off another day.

knowing (part two)

collection of private journals -packed away 1/9/2018

journal pages ripped straight from time
time severs the mind
cheap wholesale thoughts -sold to highest bidder
reminders we are products of hard work and perseverance.

who sells the answers cheaper?
i scanned the pages with a qr reader
as if written in hieroglyphics
and everything came back blank

empty promises made to myself
to do this and to do that
a book of Eden
pleasure where the world is lost to me.

then i see it
a post dated May 28, 2001
its been a long time since i wrote
back then i’m planning my garden

dirty seeds -buried
exist in the laundry room
watered and well lit
sprouting hope

all hope lost to time
with your splintered soul lying in same dirt
waiting to be watered
seasonal drought takes hold

everyone is missing from your life
and if you were a prophetess you would have heeded the words heard
“Be ready!”
but you kept moving

knowing nothing attacks the target -flying
opportunities obeyed
and your missed shots left scars
miles long, long gone -no time for healing.

Dverse Poets “leap” (quadrille #47)

Best to observe from afar

than be too close

and discern nothing at all.

So…

come leap with me

into the next dimension

sail the seas

with grand intention

to understand the wildest dreams

of logic and answer

this question:

“Who are we today?”

My bookshelf

Yes, these friends are finally being packed away. Today. Suffocating, perhaps. I like to think i am giving them a break. And me too. Its been a few years since I read them, but before I stack them, lovingly put aside, i extract a few thoughts to pass your way…

I never promised you a rose garden. But dear, my promise garden flourishes. Even, dead of winter, a bleak despair, seeds believe in miracles.

“Beauty has no obvious use; nor is there any clear cultural necessity for it. Yet civilization could not do without it.”

“My love is something valuable to me which I ought not to throw away without reflection.”

Freud Civilization and Its Discontents

“we are all murderers and prostitutes – no matter to what culture, society, class, nation one belongs, no matter how normal, moral, or mature, one takes oneself to be.”

“Whether life is worth living depends on whether there is love in life.”

r. d. laing

Like old friends, we will meet again. In a new town, the words will take on new meanings.

I actually wrote this a week ago. Its like a memory. I suppose it is memory. Feels a dream I want to wake up from. But the possibility of living in Boston is intriguing. Closer to my love of Monhegan Island and Maine. I can hear the loons call and follow the moose tracks… that is what life exists for me.

Moving

One of the virtues of moving is purging. Having lived in this house, our home, for 18 years, we have amassed quite a bit. “Junk!” my husband calls it. It! It is, sad to say, all too often junk.

To say that word. Junk. It saddens me to think our lives revolve, as synchronized as the planet, but we manage to weigh down our wings with junk!

Moving, i learn to fly…