Amorphous
Stripped of my skin
I am a reflected glint -
A pearl out of shell
Leaping, my hands
Toss lines out and out
Hooked and baitless
Shapeless, I curve at your feet
A no longer body or heart
Just form, and foam
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Sunday, May 17, 2009
old poem, new meaning
*I am craving the sights, sounds, and smells of Northern Minnesota.
Sanctuary
I still dream of
Water
And the sunburn on my face
The inching, climbing, moving
Through a liquid, living space
I still dream of
Fire
Of its warmth and golden rays
Of our beaten, sunswept bodies
Put to sleep beneath its gaze
I still dream of
Air
Of breathing in and breathing out
Of the fog above the early dew
And the morning whispershout
I still dream of
Nature
Of Her elements, Her skin
Teaching me, at last the art
Of living outside in
Sanctuary
I still dream of
Water
And the sunburn on my face
The inching, climbing, moving
Through a liquid, living space
I still dream of
Fire
Of its warmth and golden rays
Of our beaten, sunswept bodies
Put to sleep beneath its gaze
I still dream of
Air
Of breathing in and breathing out
Of the fog above the early dew
And the morning whispershout
I still dream of
Nature
Of Her elements, Her skin
Teaching me, at last the art
Of living outside in
Thursday, May 14, 2009
permission to speak freely
Just saw the new Star Trek movie. It was SO GOOD!
I'd like to thank my Dad for having Star Trek on all the time in our house growing up.Props to the original Spock and Captain Kirk.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Burial Mounds Near Copenhagen
We paraded across foreign soil
Like tiny American ants:::
Driving:walking:stopping:posing:talking
The sky hung like a low, hollow barrier
And we willed the sun to penetrate
The solid cloud cover.
Beneath our blooming umbrellas we snapped
Digital flashes across damp fields,
Our pupils round and black
And empty at a distance.
As the rain receded
We retraced our steps across
The tired gray scape, no longer
Concerned with the weather
Or the mud on our shoes.
Like tiny American ants:::
Driving:walking:stopping:posing:talking
The sky hung like a low, hollow barrier
And we willed the sun to penetrate
The solid cloud cover.
Beneath our blooming umbrellas we snapped
Digital flashes across damp fields,
Our pupils round and black
And empty at a distance.
As the rain receded
We retraced our steps across
The tired gray scape, no longer
Concerned with the weather
Or the mud on our shoes.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
the wind and the rain
The rain today reminds me of a field trip I took last spring in Denmark. Our Nordic Mythology class spent the day driving across the country to various burial grounds and old Viking buildings.
The wind was incredibly strong and it rained on and off ALL DAY LONG.
The wind was incredibly strong and it rained on and off ALL DAY LONG.
We paraded around in the gloom, walking along muddy gravel roads in the middle of nowhere and standing outside for short lectures about the why and the how of burying the dead.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)