With the movie Barbie making changes in people's minds, their understanding of feminism/sexism/racism etc., and their understanding of who can make great movies (Congrats, Greta Gerwig), I thought I'd pull out a piece posted seven years ago, dust it off, and post it again. Here's to Barbie! Some 20 years ago when it first showed... Continue Reading →
I have journaled, kept a diary, put the pen to my brain, so to speak, since I was five years old. And I have that diary, still. My favorite entry being one where I expressed how seriously furious I was at my brother Bernie. It's like peeing. Sorry, but it was the first metaphor that... Continue Reading →
Near Misses, and Someday Posts I wasn't hurt in Detroit Race Riots of '67 even when we broke curfew . . . to have a happy parade I was not lost in the blizzard of '65 although I was lost to love in the blizzard of '78 No brakes, no fear. Bernie saved us in... Continue Reading →
Pockets. The forest is replete with secrets, the pockets that protect them. Dark hollows full of mystery and intrigue hidden codes, stories. Veracities. Boo Radley gave them great fame. As did Perry Como. Falling stars and all. We love pockets (or is it the secrets)? To carry a surprise. A little bomb of the unknown.... Continue Reading →
When They Go I take back my house missing and pushing the girls out at once – go! give me space, stay! I need your sweet and smart and beautiful there is no one on the roof no one in my car no one sleeping in my bed or on my couch or spare bedroom,... Continue Reading →
thirty toes just thirty toes adorned in inches of color and sole ten climb naked no matter the cold ten spin shiny in patent and bold pointed and pricey and ready to go the ten toes I know the very best they ground our dance, assure we rest under the covers or peaking from fur... Continue Reading →
Oh, this death talk. This rainy November morning brings it on. The piercing orange sunrise lining the horizon. All Souls Day, Di de los Muertos. This time of year makes me nostalgic and calm at once. When the trees shed their wares. Secrets are revealed. Leaves float to the street or creek. Through the... Continue Reading →
Leaves and needles hide the trail boulders just trip hazards now. Watch out. Watch for life. Acorns. Cones and needles. And death. We think it is other. Life. Something other than this. Than what we live. Or lose. It isn't. Obscurity and autumn, secrets tease early winter waiting beneath ankles slipping or twisting. Forest debris thick with leaves that have all... Continue Reading →
(For months I had this domain, and I had created the format for the blog, but I had not posted, and each time I came to the domain, to ponder next steps, this is what it told me. "Nothing Found Here"). 'Nothing found here,' nothing but possibility and blank days no judgment or forecast like an old Ponderosa towering... Continue Reading →
pocket poet 