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Thursday, November 10, 2016

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Trump is our president-elect. Time to Rage Against the Machine

Friday, November 4, 2016

26th Avenue Hill



Running down
26th Avenue hill
fog softens my footfall
the horizon is sleepy.

At the base of the hill
a woman with
a puffy purple vest
a close cropped cap
of white hair
peers at her screen
her finger scrolls
up and down.

We pass without a glance she
continues up the hill
slowly, not seeing.

Pokémon Go, I think
and return my gaze
to the terns, the green lagoon.
A vacuum cleaner is submerged
In the cloudy water under the bridge.
An egret launches from the shallows
I look up, startled
feeling her silent wings on my skin
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8.27 Night


Last night I
awoke to get water for the dog
fumbling in the darkness I
confused a colander for her bowl. I
tried to fill it but
the water just poured through.

Heirloom Fruit



On my backyard quince tree
downy apple-pears
ripen to the shade of morning suns.
A sweet smell like sugar cookies
fills the garden
as ready fruit falls, uneaten.

It is an heirloom orchard
planted over 50 years ago.
I googled how to use
the tough fruit.

Hard to eat, bitter even when ripe
the woody flesh calls for
a sharp knife and skillful hand
to slice and prepare,
to coax out the sweetness
in pies or preserves.

I never tried to cook one,
too scared the paring knife would slip
in my modern hands.
I lack the sturdy intuition
of earlier women.

The Forest of Nisene Marks


Living beneath the marine layer,
I forget the relentless desert
where the sun’s insanity
heats your bones
in a torrid x-ray
your insides strained
shivering with fever.

In the solid green redwood forest
light is milky-white and heavy,
filtered through flat needles.
Ferns trail lazy fronds
the smell of wet earth waits
under fallen leaves.

A slim stand of cottonwoods
is reflected in the creek.
A black lab bounds into the water
shredding the papery bark.

A crow caws, indignant, alarmed
this dog is different–
she cannot be trusted.

I had never seen a banana slug,
couldn’t imagine a creature
so vulnerable and bright
not living in the desert
under a scorched shell.

Alignment


You swim through my dreams
Underwater tendrils curl around my horns
cold kelp traps my cloven feet.

Neptune is your companion
I don’t speak that language
can’t breathe underwater
I’ve pledged my allegiance to fiery Mars.

Like a bighorn
I see the mountain
I want to ascend.
The rocky ledges crumble
as I climb.

You don’t need to see it to know
this atmosphere’s too thin for fish.
You slip through silky shadows
blue and deep.
I gaze at the azure sky