Poem for Brigid

Fingers flow
rippling low
& high
Breathings mingle
feathering in
& out &
oh
ah
oh
ah

oh

even more fugit-ing

Optimistic, wasn't I?

Okay, the next one coming up is for the Brigid's Day Poetry Slam!

tempus fugit

Yeah, I've let way too much tempus fugit by since the last time I updated my blog. So...post some more poems here before the end of the week. This week -- in 2008.

Poetic Resonance Imaging

(for a friend getting an MRI)


May you resonate truly
under your magnetic halo,
each synapse firing
sizzling arcs of
memory, emotion, joy,
love, grace in motion

May the intricate pattern of
You grow, flower, thrive

May each lobe and quadrant
glow brightly, like
cities seen from space



...I wrote this a couple months ago for a friend who had major brain surgery 4 years ago, and marks the event every year by getting an MRI. Told her that this was not just a poem, but was also magic. Brain-magic. She laughed, and thanked me. Have another friend who's a physical therapist in the bay area. She asked if she could share it where she works; where she sees many patients needing MRIs and catscans. Hope it's working brain-magic there, too.

My poems are not

My poems
are not
white rabbits
but long
lean hares
leaping electric
through creosote
while sleekly
sweating fear
and joy

Poetry for Brigid

Your kiss
is
pomegranate-spiced
cinnamon bliss
a slippery electric bolt shooting
straight through my root
ohgod
and out my toes
ohyes
tongues darting and rolling and
tumbling and deliciously
echoing the very first one ever
the Big Bang kiss
and every one since
is
Your kiss



This poem was written for a great & wonderful friend, well-met on a Brigid's Day -- and for the thing itself - healing blazing whambam illuminating collision of lips & etc...

Yule Poem 2006

I read this poem by firelight --- Yule loglight -- as two friends and I sat together in warmth and support and sealed & transformed our hopes, dreams, and goals for the returning of the light and the coming year...


Dark, Dark, Dark
(light)

In this darkest night,
breath frosted,
Great Wheel turning,
we give thanks for
the long night's passing
and look ahead to
the long light's rekindling
and heartfires burning.

In this darkest night
we commit to burn with
love boldness compassion,
and joy in the work
which tonight we transform
into light energy action,
to illuminate and speed
each step of our journey.

(dark, dark, dark)
LIGHT!

Rafting

rafting the lava flow
incandescent fear
and bliss my
paddle a blowtorch
at both ends my hair
a comet's tail
I smile
into the inferno
and burn brightly

There's a Bigfoot in the Garden

Didn't think the garden was that overgrown
but there he was,
hidden behind the sunflowers
and peering out
with a "who me?" look:

There's a Bigfoot in the garden.

Looking all raggedly shaggy
and Sasquatchy
smelling like moss
and the family dog
(who's upstairs hiding
in the girl's room).
How'd he get here?
Hitch-hiked?
Escaped from Bigfoot smugglers?
Hidden here by Greenpeace?
He's not talking.
Probably can't talk, though
he does sigh, grunt, and imitate
bird whistles and wolf calls.
Hell of a mimic.

The kids shared
their play-doh and
for each of them
he shaped a rabbit,
its fur incised
with a thick fingernail
and handed to each child.

Maybe we can teach him
how to mow the lawn,
though I wouldn't wish that job
on even a giant Hominid,
and he is doing a swell job
of keeping the garden fertilzied.

We've told the Home Owner's Association
that he's our autistic
nephew from Uzbekistan.
They're getting suspicious, but
still not sure how to deal
with a presumed-mythical
cryptozoological wonder
hiding out in suburbia.

They'll never take him, the bastards,
before that happens
we'll send him back out
somehow, on the
Bigfoot Underground Railroad
to the next friendly family
with an overgrown
backyard garden

It's been awhile

It's been awhile since I last posted...am going to post a recent poem tonight, then keep posting regularly...

You, My Muse

You, my muse
Opener of hidden doorways
lighting the path
loosing my tongue
and heart

Lightning strike to mind and spirit
freeing my hands
to draw the plans
and build the golden boat
sailing deeper into the Mystery of
You, my muse


--to my Muse