Posts for June 12, 2018 (page 3)

Thurs:

Community Circle
The Power of Words & The Sacred Story
Tarot Haiku
Fundamental Belly Dance
Fierce & Feminine Posture & Movement
Spin w/Paint
Self Love & The 3 A’s
Sensual Veil Dance in a Cloud of Silk
In(ner) Visibility

Fri:

Zines, Pattern & Collaborative Play
Embracing Self-Love Through Dance
Moonifestations
Community Prayer Flag Stamping
Dream Catcher Creation
Women’s Business & Lifestyle Design Coaching
Adornment

Sat:

Walk the Talk: Creating Happiness
Strum, Don’t Fret
Animal Guide Tea Reading Party

on mars i am
god. like
so hot eye’m own
fan

I’ve decided to let the dead speak for themselves,
having not yet learned
before the door closed.
There’s a trick to everything. 
Every conversation
I adjust to the silence.
There should be a word.
I can’t help but wish
someone else were chosen.
Around us the angled light
(long-awaited,
purplish red, spilled blood)
changes direction
like lightning slicing through,
holding onto its curve.
I never noticed
if they were born in heart fires
and didn’t let it out.
Three generations tethered
will stand silent.
The air above holds.
I close as I began, with your words.
There is a lie in the premise.
Ask for another
story.

Composed with lines from the most recent poems by Jim Lally, Pat Own, HB Elam, Patti Miller, Karen George, Bill Verble, Bianca Bargo, Jeremy Paden, MJ Eaton, Melva Sue Priddy, Deanna Mascle, Christopher McCurry and
mtpoet (though not in that order.)

Equation system
differential integral
sequential palette

Average rates change
with variables constant
motion, a tangent

Line inside a rhyme
about a song nature made
with her wave patterns

Rings changing in shape
function of the vibration
calculus cadence

Derivative steps
circle becomes triangle
when a line is drawn

Intuitions lost
on the design of a clone
a flaw of tracing

                                                            For the women of Saudi Arabia who                                                                      will be allowed to drive in June 2018    

Tell the wind you are coming
Turn the thrum and haw of eons  

Into gathered wing
Upon some foreign path  

Let the sun and star guide
Your maiden wander  

Keys like sweet jangled music
An exquisite symphony in your hand  

Hear the honk and purr
Of wild echo let loose  

As you venture fearless
Into the dark unknown  

Rejoice the light
Filtering trees  

The history sparked
Of your sweeping passage    

Hot lo mein beckons.
“Two more things to do; just wait,”
Dropping a sly wink.

(For Tony Bourdain)

A bus ride in London 
a day trip in Holland 
got the wheels rolling –
on this one man machine,
a nice thing, until the rains came 
you called and I had thought 
about getting on a plane 
then I passed out , 

in the U.K

How do you buy clothes for a child you’ve never seen?
How much does he weigh again?
I wonder what 20.503 pounds feels like in my arms.
Do you think he actually weighs that much
under all those bulky layers they put him in?
I bet they don’t weigh him without them.
I’m sure he’s much smaller 
even than he is in my mind.
What’s 79.2 cm in inches? 
I’m terrible at math.
31.181 inches. 
That’s so much taller than I thought. 
He weighs so little,
especially for that height.
I know they’re not feeding him enough.
I’m sure he’ll be all limbs
the first time I see him,
even though in my mind he’s somehow
little and round
in the way that only babies can be.
How tall wil he be by the time that he’s here,
home?
I don’t even know when that will be,
but I know he will be too big
for the car seat I bought
in a blind panic the other night
that is now just sitting in a box 
in the back seat of our car
which I now know is entirely useless.
That’s how I feel, too.
His birthday is coming up soon,
or at least the one they assigned him.
The one we will celebrate 
every year. 
Just not this year,
because we don’t even know him yet.

Cat is a creature of angles
and swirls.
She keeps one liquid eye
on the sun
and one triangle ear out
for rain’s sheet of silver-
gray static.
Her shoulders curl
and their muscles ruffle
like twin conch shells.
Taffy tongue stretches
between pearl blades
that crunch and click
and snap shut
without warning.
Her brows—whorls of red
fire that expand
and contract
with mood
shifting moon-white
whiskers above eyes
that shine like lollipops
of jade and lemon
whose centers seize light
then spurn it
for a nap.

LETTERS TO THE DEAD: ELEVEN

try to contemplate
what little parts we play
in the world compelled by fate
where we find in air and light
the lines we’re asked to say

6/11/2018
Dear Pat, (1945 – 1968) 
         A somewhat cooler breeze blew through this morning.
After such a soggy letter and horrible poem from late last night
I’ve decided to let the dead speak for themselves.  The art
of letter writing is something I’m afraid this world has left
far behind. OMG, now it’s texting with digital emojis!
         I’ve quoted above from the only writing I have of yours.
There may be others around or I may have given them
to your offspring along with your early Dylan albums.
In the five decades since your simple twist of fate, I played
those scratched records so often – listening for hints
of who you were and who you may have been.
         The words of yours I have are written in cursive on
a photocopied sheet of a class assignment with the heading:
Brescia College   1967               Title: To A Friend
And to think that within a year you would get married,
have a child on the way, become a school teacher.
You had also become “best friend” to a very confused
younger brother.  (For me that time after The Accident
was like a hole – long and deep.)
         I close as I began, with your words.                    Love, Jim

Envoi:
let us remember our common plight
let us wish each the other’s fortune
for this life
and whatever’s next

LETTERS TO THE DEAD: TWELVE

6/12/2018
To Pat Lally Sr. (1917 – 1983)

god in his wisdom
ordained so well
that the young soon forget
the sorrow of death………..
but I don’t think
older people ever get
over the death of the young
*** Found poem from the letters of Joseph Kennedy Sr.