I ~ Stella
The storm becomes her name.
Or should it be Blanche?
Charm is 50% illusion.
I don’t want realism. I want magic!
Haven’t you ever ridden on that streetcar?
that bangs through the Quarter
Why, they told me to take a streetcar named Desire.
II ~ Nuances At Midnight
Yesterday a Spring walk.
Waking to a chiseled morning rides a wild mustang.
A dame that knows she’s good looking.
What kind of a queen do you think you are?
The real cork.
Marie Antoinette meets Blanche DuBois.
They eat cake. Where’s Stella?
She’s out there on the porch.
almost forsythia a little rain a little snow
imagine simmering pots of fragrant words
cabbage and beans
a garden celebration
of rustic stars
letting go letting g letting lettin lett let
So I decided to bake a potato last night – a very infrequent occurrence. When I cut it lengthwise, this brown area stood out – not rot but underdeveloped potato. That was ok, until I leaned in as I was about to smear on the butter and saw the two faces and perfect lips. Thought I was imagining this and once again, while I was doing three other things – I had to run and get my camera. As if that weren’t enough, I also had to compose the photo — hence the fork.
I see faces in all of nature, on tree bark, on stones, in clouds but never before in a potato or an apple or peach – this is a first! And then I realized that today is Valentines Day. I got lucky and pulled a sweetheart potato. (I know I know — as my cousin would suggest — I need “to get a life”). Anyway, the two sides of the potato are lovers for now and after dinner — tomorrow’s leftovers.
not even a full moon and yet its pull on my heart
lovers and leftovers — how not to worry about what to write
flowers in the
teeniest of vases
catch our breath and
give the cheeriest hello
in a split second of delight
on a day that would otherwise
pass as a drama too complex
and sophisticated for the
delicate loveliness of
wood sprites unless
we unleash our
true selves to
Just one of those nights – nothing to write about and yet so much going on. I start and stop – move trial posts to the trash. My muse took off ahead of the storm. She left me alone with a note: “you have have plenty of food and busywork to amuse yourself. I’m off to rustle up some new ideas.” I believe she fancies herself a cross between an urban cowgirl and a geisha. She wears a paisley sarong with red cowgirl boots and a haiku saddlebag. Even though she skips out from time to time – it’s funny how well we get along.
Sigh. Some nights I wish that I could be satisfied with just a piece of chocolate.
First snowstorm of the late 2015 – 2016 season for the east coast. Even though they are not calling it a blizzard – it may as well be the storyline. “Snow storms” now refer to anything over 3” anymore and are named like aquaintances. Yesterday (Tuesday) started a run on shovels, rock-salt, ice-go, bread, milk, chips, cookies and marshmallows even though the snow/precipitation will not fall until Saturday.
It was more than “kind of a chaotic week,” so I too marched myself off to the supermarket and pet food stores. On my list: dog food and treats; chicken and fixings to make soup for my body and emotional well-being; greens for healing body and spirit; salsa for some pizzazz; chocolate for my heart and taste buds and 10 yellow rosebuds for my spirit and sense of whimsy. Out of the entire list if I had to buy just one thing in event of a storm – it would be the rosebuds. So, I guess I’m just as crazy as anyone else shopping ahead for “necessities” in the event of a few flurries or more.
the yellow heart of escarole sweeter in the pot next to roses