My peace is a blue line.
In my other language my dream
Is disturbing to the barbed wire fence beyond,
So many cutters cutting.
My soul struggles
In scorching liquid glass.
His thumb print is the moon.
On his blessed dark side,
designs of snow,
promise rare and sweet.
We just got home the night before last from an amazing family vacation. I have always wanted to see the Northwest, and my husband made my dreams come true. We went to South Dakota to see Mt Rushmore, and then a historic cemetery. We explored Wyoming and Montana. We saw Devil’s Tower.
After that we headed to Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. I wanted to see Idaho, but I had no idea I would adore it so much! Coeur d’Alene was a picturesque town by a lake nestled in the mountains. Over the course of our vacation I saw southern and northern Idaho, and northern Idaho is my favorite. Those mountains! That lake!
Then we headed to the coast of Washington. We spent a night on Whidbey Island. I love Whidbey Island. Everything about it has a serene loveliness and an introspective air. We spent the following day on the Olympic Peninsula. Craig drove us up to the very Northwest tip of the continental United States. It was a difficult hike to get to the overlook where I could see the water, but it was so worth doing. I managed to get back to the car tired, but not in too much pain.
The sight was gorgeous. The land ended in a sheer cliff drop into the ocean, with blue blue water rising and falling against the rocks, struggling against them.
We headed back across Washington and through part of Oregon to get to Utah and Salt Lake City. While we were on Antelope Island in the lake, we saw wild bison. The shoreline and salt flats were lovely in an almost scifi kind of way. While we were in Salt Lake City, we visited the Mormon Tabernacle.
After that we headed home through western Colorado, which I had never seen before. the mountains were so inspiring, with their stripes of autumn yellow in between rows of evergreens.
All in all it was a fantastic trip. I am very tired now, but I am so glad we got to do this. Craig really did it for me. These were places I wanted to go. He had seen some of them, and wasn’t interested in others. He knew I wanted to go though, and he planned this trip for me. I love my husband.
Rudimentary songs,
percussive and primal
parade through my hot mind.
In the stew of my stem cells,
supporting my innards like a
parent a wayward child,
a private boiling,
public steam.
My drummer is a bit inebriated,
and so my steps are quadrilateral.
I grow new eyes,
with a cobalt vision divine.
My monosyllabic life—the faint
screech of a hawk having the joy
of his prey,
somewhere beside the statuesque mountain.
I have never known fear.
I construct cocoons for five dollars each,
chilled coffins for five cents.
The banality of spice seasoning atmosphere,
tossed continent at every place setting.
Typically,
I dine in my nest of cylinders and pistons,
but today there is a feast
at the hatter’s house,
and I am invited if I bring my kill.
I never look at what I devour,
I don’t want to swallow the
resentful soul.
I am the raptor in the rafters
of the hatter’s mind,
his goggles giving him
truthful vision.
Over my shoulder,
some ubiquitous business
cashing in on my impoverished back.
I am clay,
am a starter culture
for a world of salted rain,
with a rind of potpourri.
From my private beach,
a bliss unfolding in the midst of absence
a pleasure exchange
a hard market
a refreshing barter.
A meaningful trade.
their bodies a desire,
painted in a tonal language I know so well,
lovable and mysterious as weather
I write with thread,
recording morose intentions.
My flowers grow inverted,
chubby blooms burrowing into
the soil
while the root balls glower
at me in the gray Thursday sun.
My essence is in the breeze,
carried far from me.
One last mournful whisper and it
Is gone over the impassable plain.
My blanket will be cold and uninviting,
and I will chill beneath it
like a spurned lover,
champagne,
ego.
Who is it with red eyes,
the mossy fangs?
Who tills the plain?
His flowers grow up to the
unscrupulous sky,
rancid stench permeating the void.
She offers him day and night.
He leaves her with a gift
that reminds her of being happy.
Miniature Moon 