Posts for June 2, 2024

If I could ask the divine for one thing
it would be the mystery,
the surprise, the cool balm
the day brings, the warmth of the sun,
the rumbling of my stomach
Grass seeds slumping easterly
towards the ice melting breeze

Dandelions are my favorite this
Year, their distinct phases
Their spears, their flight
Like tarot suits
Representing everything in their
Changes
All possibilities, all
Magic, all swords and Wands and Cups and Coins

In my dream I’m devouring the
flowers and becoming the leaves

Anger and strife are the darkness of night,
The chrysalis of 
Time
forcing my shape
into one which will fly

I’ve seen fierce folx
step down fiery
streets

love among the
embers & dance as if  
the wind

                                                   “Can we not have Pride without vendors?”

my friend asked me, on the phone, after
we’d left the festivities.

                                                                    “Why does it have to be ruined
                                                                                        by commercialism?” 

I could only answer, I know
wherever there are people gathered,
they must be fed.  Even Christ

                                                     said, “They do not need to go away.  You
                                                                  give them something to eat.”

and when excuses poured from mouths,
He said,                                                       
                                                                                         “Bring them to me.” 

This the same Christ who cracked
the whip, chasing moneychangers
out of the temple:  The most righteous

anger at the intrusion of hunger
and vice drawn near the feet
of the Holy
of Holies.                        

                                                             “They paid the DJs.  There had to be
                                                               money coming in for money
                                                               coming out.” 

He continues speaking through my phone
while an app advertises the Pride Whopper.

I’d bought a crystal Pikachu.
I rubbed its little body in my hands.

I wonder at the cost
to set up shop?  Who paid
the price?  Who decides who
gets the benefits?  Who is buying
and who is bought?

                                                                                 What is it we are really,
                                                                                 truly proud
                                                                                 of?

Then again, another ad intones,
                                                                                                       who cares

when you can shop
Postmate’s 
Bottom Friendly Menu.

two new strings
found on two new
shirts which appeared
and then dissolved.

A cliff-edge trail crossed the craggy Northern coast to Picardy. An afternoon’s hike toward viewing the seals. Scrambling on hands and knees up one steep rise, climbing some farmer’s fence into a pasture overhanging the mad Atlantic as it slammed into rocks below, I began to understand how you might’ve imagined the waifs and pawns of misery. I had no knowledge of poor Fantine, knew nothing about Javert’s determination to track down Jean Valjean. We Schultz women followed plaques marked “On the Path of Victor Hugo” when we staggered into a seaside village to find seal-watching time long passed.  Time for wine or Stella.  Time to appreciate a good loaf of French bread.  Time for naps and dreaming dreams. How little we knew about tales that grew out of high peaks and dark crevices.

Hozier cried free, free
Palestine. Free Palestine. 
Hozier cried power. 

Im not a shinging white knight

I am your gardener

I will pull the weeds from our yard so our buttercups, our snowdrops grow long after the stones of our home crumble and the memory of our love is whispered among the neighbors hearths

Im not a shining white knight

I am your farmer

I will make the tobacco fields be bountiful with God’s benevolence and care for the angus cattle, the steers since they will inhabit our fields and table. Feeding the life we brought forth together as they grow and discover themselves.

I am not your shining white knight

I am your partner

When you ride into that forever sunset I will follow, to shepherd and drive Gods herd’s together because I cannot find another sunset worth seeing without you, for in my life I have had many loves but none so breathtaking as the life I shared owith you

Pop of a ligament
crack of a joint
this 
ever-familar
ache
won’t 
last forever
but 
the soreness 
sure 
does
make it
seem
that way.

One day 
my laugh will be too loud and my habit of leaving the cabinet doors wide open will become a tedious task

Go behind me 
pick up after me
I never learned to clean up as I went 

you’ll roll your eyes at my stack of half read books
and my full arms as I carry more in

you’ll be angry 
at evrything 

falling out of love 
Is actually just 
seeing what you once chose to ignore

no longer blinded by excitement 
the intoxication fading
you’ve lost you buzz 

the honeymoon phase is ending