seedling
image – not sure of the origin – found at the lovely arielawonders
poem: a ring of changes by denise levertov
this notion of time
anniversary poem
later, you would shave your head. and i would trim the hair
on the nape of your neck. this notion of time, a passing year,
another we’ve made together.
you ask me – what sex is the baby.
but i don’t answer. instead, i tell you
it is okay for you to remarry when i die.
i see it in my face more than yours.
these gray roots and the lines around my mouth.
- she will have your eyes.
i woke up last night, and the porch light was on.
i swear i heard rain. a ghost reached for you.
and then i found you -
asleep between two daughters,
wearing an old sweater
i bought you years ago.
the baby kicks
And then it was over, this world we had grown to love
for its sweet grasses, for the many-colored horses
and fishes, for the shimmering possibilities
while dreaming.
But then there were the seeds to plant and the babies
who needed milk and comforting, and someone
picked up a guitar or ukulele from the rubble
and began to sing about the light flutter
the kick beneath the skin of the earth
we felt there, beneath us
a warm animal
a song being born between the legs of her;
a poem.
image via old lawrence
joy harjo poem: when the world ended as we knew it
stone’s widow
from: what love comes to: new and selected poems
___
“You are a lovely link
in the great chain of being
Think how lucky it is to be born.”
___
the shape of what you lived
You think of lands you journeyed through,
of paintings and a dress once worn
by a woman you never found again.
And suddenly you know: that was enough.
You rise and there appears before you
in all its longings and hesitations
the shape of what you lived.
painting: picasso’s seated nude woman
poem: remembering, rainer maria rilke
a chicken or an egg
“Francisca’s eggs are small, creamy and the yolk is yellowish orange while Bonita’s yolk’s are the color of persimons. I have not yet tasted Bonita’s eggs. Astrid won’t share those. She’s addicted to eggs.”
text: beatrice valenzuela’s pretty post eggs
photo: Manuel Carrillo – Girl with Chicken
dust
Someone spoke to me last night,
told me the truth. Just a few words,
but I recognized it.
image from Martina Hoogland Ivanow – Satellite
