If the world throws cheap sweaters
and ten dollar comforters
into your path, checkbook collision
is inevitable as a crash.
Your closet reinvents itself,
dresser drawers line themselves
with lavender, giddy anticipation
for anything made of silk.
Merriam-Webster calls this
“An unrestrained indulgence
in, or outburst of an activity.”
as if you burst into song
in the middle of the street,
turning round and round
in that new skirt,
the pink one that twirls.
A temporary madness.
Ever practical, the bottom drawer
reminds you to stop dancing
and buy some socks
Quickly
before the fever passes.
Category Archives: Uncategorized
Shopping Spree
Conversational Nature
Trees whisper flying dreams
to the blackbird against the
blue sky, the still-furled branches
folded wings waiting for a sign
Listen for the trees to
breathe out, Bloom.
Falling Into Patterns
This life we wove as I raised you
fine wool of moments
into this pattern of what is
pattern of comfort knotted
to threads that trap us
hold us till we repeat
all our old mistakes
no matter how weary
the stitches are familiar
Plans For The Future
Here, a quickly written poem based on a list prompt from We Write Poems— a site I just discovered and look forward to exploring soon. Try it yourself!
When you hear those tangled blue dreams of knowing, begin—
First, turn to vapor all the words tagged Nightmare by your soul:
Carapace, chrysalis, cocoon all spiral away into the dark
With all the winged truths they held. Not these.
Next, Soul, nurture the witch in the cathedral of your center
Drop into your inky cauldron the striped filaments
Of all those years of rain and roots and nurturing.
As sunlight stripes the stone floor, turn to those watchers
Stoic demons, blooming angels and honeysuckled geishas
In gowns fragile as fortunes.
Together, marvel at the brimming cauldron
How the rising smoke of a million votives
Twists with seafoam air from a thousand long-stemmed hookahs
Into the invisible future you built,
cradled in its mystery, opaque eggshell of time.
Dive Shop
Not masks or suits
fins or nets
Go naked, with your bare hands.
Dive
again
for words
just out of reach
who bury themselves
in sharp blooms of cutting coral
or hide in deep caves, silent
subterranean mansions
or those words over there,
Taunt and Tantalize
Worry and Wonder
See how they flit
between shadow and seaweed
Patterned, their very skin
a disguise
Iridescent scent
Elusive shine
House Party
Plenty of champagne
and company
and canapes
Glittering gowns
wait in wardrobes
hang on hangers
Shaped for Later.
First, there are the gardens
hills beyond
beds to nap in
notebooks to write in
while the jazz band on the veranda
warms up for the night ahead
when nobody is allowed to be dull
but must continue till they sparkle.
Only Connect
I know it won’t last, because that’s how it is; spring comes in fits and starts”
~dapplegrey @ Invisible Horse
Two lovely posts at Invisible Horse inspire hope for spring:
Oasis of Color and Going Back For More.
Another tiny miracle
arrives
in Winter’s frozen box.
Somewhere, the grass
has greened, the wide field
covered itself in fragile violets
and bright, sturdy crocus.
If you lay down on the ground
through the damp you can feel
more green gathering itself to grow.
I know all this is happening
on this same planet
because you
another world away
showed it to me.
Enormous miracles
are not required.
Learn To Love Silence
Sip it slowly,
at first. Tiny servings,
a jigger, a shot of silence.
Ignore the ocean of quiet waves,
far from shore,
on all our paths.
You do not have to
swim across today.
If you dwell on the ocean,
you panic and flail,
drowning in all the ways
you’ve ignored yourself—
All those nights desperate
for a crowd, any crowd,
parties, dinners, sports,
in a pinch, the shopping malls
and 24-hour grocery stores.
Instead, a cup, a pint until
you remember how
to love the ocean.
Quiet, In Winter
holds the air
as summer never will.
Bird’s song, traffic, children in the trees,
muffled, tucked away by
storm windows, closed doors, falling snow
in concert, singing to the world,
Hush, now
and Here, hold this:
a mug of cocoa
a cup full of quiet.
North Country Snow
Winter makes a statement here,
impossible to drown out or ignore.
Metaphors cling like snow to sidewalks,
analogies thick as icicles hang from the eaves.
Blizzards rush in, so thick and sudden
your only job is to get home and stay there.
Then there are storms like this one:
Flakes so tiny
it looks like no snow at all.
Only when you are deep in the middle
do you realize and name it.
Feel how sharp those tiny bits of ice,
see how they build up around your house, your heart
without you seeing them, without recognizing and
naming the danger—
Till divorce or springtime are
the only things immense enough
to guide you through the storm.
Puff Of Smoke Poems 