Stella! Stella! Stella!

I ~ Stella

The storm becomes her name.
Hey, Stella.
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.

What is it …

Grace

 
What is it about grace
that tenders an angry moment
into a peaceful movement?

What is it about grace
that yarns hands into hats
and humor?

What is it about grace
that placards profanity
into protest poetry?

What is it about grace
that that takes stutter and slurs
into song?

What is it about grace
that takes blue into azure and sky
henna into meadows with mice?

What is it about grace
that takes a humble haiku
into the history of words?

What is it about grace
that tumbles small stones into
a river wild?

And what is it about grace
in a child’s smile that is no
different than our own?

Summer 2011

 

 

Full Moon Blizzard!

Bring it on!!! As I sit in my warm house typing away yet to be disturbed by any power outages forcing off lights, water, heat and cell phone. I’ve sat through my share of routine-interrupting storm damage, so I’m not oblivious to its dark side – it’s just that storms change energy. And with the full moon – it’s the lusty wild female energy that awakens in all of us – male and female. It’s our passionate, chaotic creative selves that blows out and about howling free and fierce. YAY!!! I need this once in a blue moon. Once in every season. Once in awhile as a force of nature reminding me who I really am deep within and in relation to Earth and life itself. I made soup, I have candles, books, paper and pencils ready. Extra blankets are out of storage, tea is steeping and my dreamy poetic windy and excited self gets to come out and play. In mid storm I will be outside with arms wide up in the air, tongue out and feet off the ground.

nor’ easter moon wraps me under her white shawl

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