Saturday, October 28, 2006

later


The truth of these photographs
Forming there in the monitor
Ghosts, evanescent in time
They will vibrate into another moment
Up ahead in the unknown mists
When today becomes the day
Reds and greens will fade but never these
Around that bend of the clock

There, in some strange and unknown place
We will see the forms once seen
In morning mirrors as catastrophic
And say: “God damn I look good!”
We will see what we took for granted
Calculating the years toward oblivion
With increasing care
But enjoying the thump within
Later

Sunday, October 22, 2006

Without Looking















Across the kitchen table her dyed black hair
shines over my natural red
She does not see the light in my eyes, looking down
Forgetting the un-done
dishes, the cell phone arguments at midnight
I feel the old, familiar
thumping of similar hearts
She doesn’t know, I don’t say
Washed clean
are the ragged wounds of teen nights
Sleepless and pacing then with
imagination on fire
Jolting me from routine, snagging my medicated passages
I remember holding her up to see the monkeys at the zoo
Her little body
like the melted butter of love
Dropping her off at school and watching her
coltish strides away from me
Away from me it has been for years now
She
drives away now from the sunken hull of my youth
Down the hills to a world I
will never know
I ache for the smell of stale quesadillas, the wadded paper
lunch bag thrown in my back seat
I pass her money and muttered complaints
She ignores almost all of it
I hardly notice her thankful eyes, looking
down
That little calf look that endures
Our cats are the bridge
of what is left of our days together
When we drove over the hills to Ventura
Calling out the Christmas lights and laughing.Posted by Picasa

Friday, October 13, 2006

kites


Little sister just remember
As you wander through the blue
The little kite that you sent flying
On a sunny afternoon
Made of something light as nothing
Made of joy that matters too
How the little dreams we dream
Are all we can really do

In the middle of the night
The world turns with all of it's might
A little diamond colored blue
In the middle of the night
We keep sending little kites
Until a little light gets through
-----------------------------------

"...will there be someone to remember
a little place that we loved
how the music played all night and day
through the windows up above

how the birds sang in the morning
how the dog barked in the yard
i guess that's nothing much but everything to us
and that's what seems so hard"

both excerpts from songs by Patty Griffin "Kite" and "Dear Old Friend"

Wednesday, October 11, 2006



School Prayer

In the name of the daybreak
and the eyelids of morning
and the wayfaring moon
and the night when it departs,

I swear I will not dishonor
my soul with hatred,
but offer myself humbly
as a guardian of nature,
as a healer of misery,
as a messenger of wonder,
as an architect of peace.

In the name of the sun and its mirrors
and the day that embraces it
and the cloud veils drawn over it
and the uttermost night
and the male and the female
and the plants bursting with seed
and the crowning seasons
of the firefly and the apple,

I will honor all life
—wherever and in whatever form
it may dwell—on Earth my home,
and in the mansions of the stars.

-Diane Ackerman