The Weight of Things

There is an unconscious
Action
Wherein
One releases
The weight of
an
Object
To its
Resting
Place:
Unaware
that
Weight
has
Transferred.
There are
times,
However,
When
One
Misses
the
Placement
of
Said
Object
and
Gravity
Steals
the
Weight
Away
Registering
Panic
And
the
Grasping
of
Air.
How
Wonderful
It
Is,
Then,
To
Know
You
Are
Here
To
Catch
Me.

oh tannenbaum

we give thanks

for awhile now

i
have
been
content
with
knowing
that
it
was
better
to be
alone
than
poorly
companied.
and
for
good
company-
now-
i
am
fortunate.

untitled

lingering fall

Gentle, little footsteps

Gentle,
little
footsteps
have
been
treading
upon
my
heart.

Halloween 2009

Halloween 2009

Halloween 2009

What is stirring your heart these days?

Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros
'Home': (copy and paste and let your heart swell)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qb9jY8yAxgs

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=id4vnQE0ok4


and to the possibilities......

Home
is
wherever
there
is
you.
I
sure
love
you
ma
and
pa.
To
all
of
you
who
have
found
the
home
wherever
you
are
I
raise
my
glass
to
you
and
thank
you
for
being
part
of
my
life.
Part
of
my
home.
Wherever
we
are.
Home.
Barefoot
on
a
summer
night...



[Her:]
Alabama, Arkansas,
I do love my ma and pa,
Not the way that I do love you.

[Him:]
Holy, Moley, me, oh my,
You're the apple of my eye,
Girl I've never loved one like you.

[Her:]
Man oh man you're my best friend,
I scream it to the nothingness,
There ain't nothing that I need.

[Him:]
Well, hot and heavy, pumpkin pie,
Chocolate candy, Jesus Christ,
Ain't nothing please me more than you.

[Both:]
Ahh Home. Let me come home
Home is wherever I'm with you.
Ahh Home. Let me go ho-oh-ome.
Home is wherever I'm with you.

La, la, la, la, take me home.
Mother, I'm coming home.

[Him:]
I'll follow you into the park,
Through the jungle through the dark,
Girl I never loved one like you.

[Her:]
Moats and boats and waterfalls,
Alley-ways and pay phone calls,
I've been everywhere with you.

[Him:]
We laugh until we think we’ll die,
Barefoot on a summer night
Nothin’ new is sweeter than with you

[Her:]
And in the streets you run afree,
Like it's only you and me,
Geeze, you're something to see.
[ Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros Lyrics are found on www.songlyrics.com ]

[Both:]
Ahh Home. Let me go home.
Home is wherever I'm with you.
Ahh Home. Let me go ho-oh-ome.
Home is wherever I'm with you.

La, la, la, la, take me home.
Daddy, I'm coming home.

(Talking)
Him: Jade
Her: Alexander
Him: Do you remember that day you fell outta my window?
Her: I sure do, you came jumping out after me.
Him: Well, you fell on the concrete, nearly broke your ass, you were bleeding all over the place and I rushed you out to the hospital, you remember that?
Her: Yes I do.
Him: Well there's something I never told you about that night.
Her: What didn't you tell me?
Him: While you were sitting in the backseat smoking a cigarette you thought was gonna be your last, I was falling deep, deeply in love with you, and I never told you til just now.

[Both:]
Ahh Home. Let me go home.
Home is wherever I'm with you.
Ahh Home. Let me go ho-oh-ome.
Home is where I'm alone with you.

[Him:]
Home. Let me come home.
Home is wherever I'm with you.

[Her:]
Ahh home. Yes I am ho-oh-ome.
Home is when I'm alone with you.

[Her:]
Alabama, Arkansas,
I do love my ma and pa...
Moats and boats and waterfalls,
Alley-ways and pay phone calls...

[Both:]
Ahh Home. Let me go home.
Home is wherever I'm with you.
Ahh Home. Let me go ho-oh-ome.
Home is where I'm alone with you...

All Hallow's Eve is upon us.......

I have a visitor.

untitled

the sun dons his hat
the sky crawls under her quilt
and weeps until spring

Bill Cernansky

First Snow

The infinite continues

How
blessed
it
is
to
be
able
to
greet
yes
once
again.
You-
Mom
and
Dad.
How
fortunate
I
am
to
have
two
beings
so
close
to
mine
to
raise
me.
Whose
current
flows
as
mine.
Dad,
I
thank
you.
I've
spent
too
many
years
wonderng
why
you
didn't
ask
me
the
questions
I
thought
you
should.
How
selfish.
So,
now,
realizing
it
was
my
opportunity
to
get
to
know
you.
And
we
relished
in
memories
of
ones
that
got
away.
We
found
ourselves
on
the
shores
of
Mocassin
Lake.
Remember?
I
didn't
until
you
retold
of
you,
and
Phil,
and
I.
Dawn
awakening.
Hauling
muskies
in.
Lines
breaking.
Clear
water
beneath
us.
A
father
and
son.
The
Twins
so
close
to
clinching
the
division.
I'm
glad
I
know
you.
I'm
glad
to
see
myself
in
you.
I
am
glad
to
be
more
than
I
am
because
of
you.

Woman Lake

the infinite or ode to e.e. cummings

i thank you God for this amazing
day;for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes
-e.e. cummings


There are
moments
when
the
whole
of
it
all
is
saying
yes.
You
accept
this
invitation
and
frequent
souls
you
haven't
met
in
some
time.
But
they
have
always
been
there.
The
echo
of
it
all
shall
remain.
First,
and
foremost,
in
the
center
of
your
being.

Indian Summer

Last night,
was a night,
that,
as
a
kid,
I would
play
kick
the
can.
The
whole
neighborhood
would
turn
out.
We
would
wage
our
battle
in
my
Family's
yard.
Skinned
knees
and
tanned
skin
reminding
us
of
a
well
lived
summer.
In
the
hazy
glow
of
nightfall
we
would
hide
in
our
favorite
places.
Skin
glistening
with
sweat,
crickets
chirping,
adreline
racing
through
veins.
The
sound
of
the
can
clattering
on
concrete;
awaking
all
of
us
to
come
from
hiding.
Our
voices
would
fill
the
night
air
as
fireflies
danced.

Koi and Pond Fish

Black Hollyhock

A Kiss that Sends Me

You placed
your lips
upon mine
and I was
instantly
transported.
Well,
maybe
not
so
much
transported
But
so
intent
on
the
moment
that
time
ceased
and
noise
disappeared
and
I
fell
into
your
pools
of
dark
brown
eyes
And
in
this
charmed
life
I
kissed
you
again.
You
shall
linger.
For
quite
some
time.
I'm
counting
on
it.

Indian Summer

Korean Angelica

end of summer

Dallas Center-Veterans of War

Today

Someone had the Blues Today

I went
out
into
the
rain
soaked
ground.
Sky
awakening.
Sun
peeking
through
to
what
promised
to
be
a
glorious
day.
I
heard
B.B. King
wailing
on
Lucille.
A
voice
cried
out,
"Oh,
Lord!
Oh,
Lord!"
And
the
sun
dipped
lower
in
it's
autumnal
beauty.

Visitor

Korean Angelica Today

I'm okay.

The strangest thing, well maybe not so much, but my ex partner called me first thing to make sure I was safe. Then another former roommate of mine called to say she was on Portland and 36th and trees were down everywhere. Sirens were going off and I had a quiche in the oven and tomato chutney cooking away on the stove and the rain poured and there was a sense of calmness about it all.

Korean Angelica

Untitled

Old Girl

Sometimes

The
air
conditioner
whirred.
The
heat
of
summer
ripened
tomatoes.
Sweat
trickled
from
my
pores.
Reflection
came
easy.
Such
a
lovely
time
I
thought.
I
am
always
amazed
when
souls
come
into
contact
with
mine.
Souls
that
are
old
friends.
Tiffany
was
her
name.
Our
hearts
immediately
contacted
each
other.
It
was
no
surprise
to
me
that
I
would
catch
her
attempting
to
see
the
world
in
a
different
perspective.
She
would
close
one
eye
and
curl
her
fingers
up
and
place
this
hand
over
her
open
eye
to
create
her
own
little
view
finder.
A
construction
worker
hit
a
gas
main
and
the
building
had
to
be
evacuated.
We
sat
in
the
shade
of
a
pine.
The
sun's
heat
causing
vapors
to
rise
from
concrete.
She
crawled
onto
my
lap
and
fell
asleep.
Everything
seemed
right.

The Crickets have Begun to Chirp

It
really
is
about
the
presence
of
time.
Wandering
about.
Travel
with
thoughts
and
love
waiting
at
the
end.
Surprise
visits.
Projects.
Watching
fish.
And
never
being
concerned
that
time
will
escape.
To
hold
on
to
that.
This
is
the
challenge.

Grand Marais II

Grand Marais II

Pulse

We
sat
and
watched
a
summer
storm
move
across
Lake
Okoboji.
Blankets
sheltering
us.
The
all
of
us
saying,
"I
love
rain."
Each
of
us
a
reflective
spirit
of
our
parents.
They,
of
course,
were
there
as
well.
My
Mother
saying,
"Oh,
can
you
smell
it?
The
rain?"
And
we
all
inhaled.
And,
yes,
there
it
was.
No
words
were
necessary
as
our
hearts
warmed
in
unison.
The
storm
raged
on
and
we
continued
with
the
experience.
Enjoying
yet
another
moment
of
our
collective
whole
that
adds
to
the
being
of
each
other
and
ourselves.

Iowa III

Iowa II

Iowa

RIP

Green

I
got
my
first
pair
of
glasses
in
the
4th
grade.
There
are
many
stories
based
on
those
glasses
but
this
is
not
about
those.
I
have
noticed
that
because
my
eye
sight
is
so
poor;
I
can
smell
extremely
well.
It
has
come
to
guide
me.
This
sense
has
taken
me
through
this
spring
into
summer.
Lilacs,
grape
vines,
peonies.
This
morning
I
was
watering
the
garden
as
the
sun
crept
into
the
day.
There
it
was.
Heat
lifting
off
of
pavement,
and
dust,
and
green.

Grand Marais III 2009

Grand Marais II 2009

Grand Marais 2009

Christine and her daughter Angel (All of you make my Life More Interesting)

Fascinating,
Things you notice
when your time
reference
changes.
People.
Ones who
you now
notice
that
your
back
on
the
same
pace
again.
She
bought
a
trunk
from
you
years
ago.
You
always
remember
that
she
has
a
look
on her
face
like
she
is
trying
to
connect
to
the
reality
of
the
moment
somewhere
in
her
brain
but
somehow
can't.
I would
hold
yard
sales
on
May
Day.
A
spectacular
parade
is
held
nearby
me
and
throngs
of
characters
show
up.
She
was
the
first
to
wonder
lost
among
the
thrown-out.
And
she
collected
trunks
and
would
like
to
buy
this
one,
"how
much?"
I
don't
remember
what
we
settled
on
but
the
spirit
that
always
shuddered
from
within
that
trunk
somehow
had
found
its
home
and
I
was
happy
to
be
rid
of
it.
It
somehow
had
found
itself
inside
the
trunk
after
it
left
the
cedar
wood
chest
it
previously
resided
in.
It
would
wake
me
up
at
night
if
I
forgot
to
close
the
doors.
So
it
was
another,
"adieu
to
you."
When my
parents
were
bringing
it
to me
in
the
first
place
of
my
own.
My
Dad
sat
it
upright
in
the
back
of
the
truck
and
wind
made
sure
to
pick
it
up
and
shatter
it
to
bits
on
75 South.
Peace
be
with
you.
A story we
would
razz
my
Dad
about
later
many times
but,
thruth-
be-
told,
we
were
happy
to
see
you
go.
And
so
here
you
are
again,
Christine,
and
Angel
is
about
to
graduate.
(a beautiful
caramel child)
and
you
are
still
waiting
at
the
bus
stop
with
her.
Glad
you
still
have
the
trunk.
Be
well.
And
there
they
are.
Always.
A
snapshot.
Somewhere
between
a
polaroid
and
a
movie
still.
Grainy
and
a
slight
out
of
focus
but
brilliant
colors.
Christine
with
a
processed
bob
in
a
crocheted
shawl
the
color
of
white
that
always
looks
dirty
and
snow
boots
with
the
temperature
diving
from
the
80's
to
the
60's
you
were
prepared.
And
Angel.
Always
in
pink.
With
vibrant
toffee
golden
skin
gleaming
beneath
braids
clasped
with
big
red
balls
of
polyurethane.
The
rain
seems
right.
And
the
color
of
spring
trying
to
find
its
way
back.
Peonies
droop.

What a nice way to end.(my child stops to reflect on how she came about realizing her dreams.)

Hello. I believe we met one time at a parent teacher conference when my daughter took me down to the art room to meet her Art teachers. My name is Kim and I am Jordan's Mom. I was on my way to work this morning and had some time to reflect on a few things, (rush hour traffic offers that opportunity). As I was sitting in traffic, I started thinking about what Jordan said to me last night. She proudly showed me a picture she had made for you both and said matter of fact, “I made this for them because they gave me so much and I wanted to leave a piece of me behind for them to remember me.” Last night I was so proud that she thought to do something like that. Today, I really thought about it and see that you both made such a huge impact on Jordan’s art, self-esteem and determination and that is also what I am so proud of. I feel very fortunate to have my daughter, my kids, in a school where the teachers are so inspirational that my child stops to reflect on how she came about realizing her dreams. I want to thank you both for the impact you have had on Jordan’s art, but more importantly, her person. Thank you for all you have done.



Sincerely,

Kim

Proud Parent

Untitled

The
first
peony
blossom
is
one
that
never
escapes
the
wrath
of
a
scissors.
I
bring
it
in.
Put
it
in
a
silver
vase
on
the
dining
room
table.
Its
scent
fills
my
house.

To Be Full

People
always
ask
me,
"What
are
you
doing
this
summer?"
And
I
realized
that,
this
summer,
I
will
be
full.
Of
awakening
places
and
people.
And,
I
will
be
fulfilled.
Oh,
how
joyous.

Francis Bernard Beaubien

You
always
seem closest
on this day.
Perhaps
that
is
why
I've
been
laughing
so
hard.
You,
lying
under
opressively
white
sheets,
the
aqua-
marine,
neon
lit,
tiled
floor
carrying
sound.
In
your
passing
you
said
you
thought
you
heard
me
laughing
in
the
hallway.
And
I
catch
people
saying,
"Oh,
I
love
to
hear
him
laugh."
I
never
tire
of
hearing
it.
Because,
in
the
seventeen-
plus
years
of
your
departure;
I
still
want
you
to
hear
me.

Forward

The
smell
of
lilacs
drifting
on
spring
air
had
given
way
to
lilly
of
the
valley.
And
I
took
a
step
forward.
Heavy
of
heart.
Sometimes
the
right
decision
is
the
hardest.
How
many
times
must
I
learn
this?
Actually,
I
know
the
lesson.
It
just
never
gets
easier.
I fill
vases
with
the
musky
scent.
Tears
flowing
freely.
The
morning
light
making
little
rainbows
when
I
blink.
A
mourning
dove
coos.

13 days

I
thought
this was the spring
that
I
could
get
a
head
start
on
my
garden.
I
had
always
held
onto
the
belief
that
in
this
place
of
springs
that
are
always
welcomed;
May
15th
was
the
day
one
had
to
wait
to
insure
growth.
I
look
at
the
calender
and
note
that
it
is
May
17th
and
a
hard
frost
hit
last
night.
I
had
covered
the
fragile
basil
in
hopes
that
it
might
survive.
I
now
wait
for
the
sun
to
bring
some
warmth
back
to
the
earth
and
then
the
unveiling
will
take
place.
This
is
the
thought
running
about
my
head
as
I
think
back
on
this
year.
Being
so
close
to
the
end
it
happens
to
be
something
that
is
constant
with
me-
reflection.
After
a
trying
week
it
also
helps
one
to
think
of
all
the
good
things.
This,
I
learned
from
my
Mother.
More
than
just
the
good
things;
this
particular
time
I
am
thinking
about
how
thankful
I
am
for
being
allowed
to
do
what
I
do.
Sure
it
can
be
challenging,
and
frustrating,
and
tiring.
But
my
heart
never
fails
to
warm
when
I
smell
the
diesel
fuel
of
a
bus
in
the
crisp
morning
air
waiting
to
pick
kids
up.
My
basil
survived.

The Gift

Hafiz, The Gift. A collection of poems by a Sufi Master. A long time ago I stumbled on one of his that became a favorite: "Even / After / All this time / The sun never says to the earth / "You owe me." / Look / What happens / With a love like that. / It lights up the whole sky."

To Journey

So,
here it
is.
I
had
busied
myself
trying
to
clear
you
of
my
head.
But
it
lingered
there.
Hanging
around.
Revisiting
me
eveytime
I
thought
of
the
time
I
was
riding
on
the
handle-
bars
of
the
bike
you
were
captaining
and
we
would
fly
over
potholes
in
the
gravel
road.
And
one
time
things
went
differently
and
I
wound
up
with
my
foot
tangled
in
the
spokes
of
the
bike.
And
you
carried
me
home.
The
pounding
of
your
heart
pounding
through
me.
Always.
Now,
I
travel
south
for
the
news.
Your
heart
pounding
through
me.

Can't wait to see you, Mom

My Mom
called
from
Rochester
last
weekend.
The
Mayo
Clinic.
My
Dad's
prognosis
was
not
what
they
had
expected,
"Just
different,
Kevin.
Not
worse.
Just
different.
They
believe it
to
be
a
form
of
Parkinson's."
And
she
then
went
on
to
explain,
like
she
always
has,
everything
that
was
going
on
all
in
medical
terms.
So
my
mind
whirled
trying
to
decipher
what
she
was
telling
me
and
what
I
knew
of
Parkinson's.
My
Mother
later
called
to
tell
me
that
my
Dad
now
has
more
tests
scheduled
for
the
weekend
that
they,
"...were
planning
on
coming
up.
So
why
don't you come
down
to Rochester
and
we
can
have
lunch
and
dinner
together.
There
are
some
real
nice
restaurants
here
now.
And
we
can
walk
by
the
river.
And
we
want
to
see
you.
We
miss
you
so
much."
Which
led
to
my
Mom
explaining
that
they
were
putting
one
of
their
properties
on
the
market
and
there
was
carpet
that
needed
to
be
taken
out.
"Well,
of
course
your
Father
wants
to
do
it
himself
and
I
say,
go
ahead,
Carl,
but
if
you
pass
out
we
are
leaving
you
right
there.
And
sure
enough
he
exerts
himself
too
much
and
passes
out.
And
your
brother-in-law,
Steve,
freaked
out.
Oh,
it
was
nice
that
he
was
there
to
help
with
the
carpet
but
he
just
freaked
out
when
your
Father
was
laying
there
stiff
as
a
board.
He
started
calling
911
and
I
said
just
leave
him,
Steve."
Which
made
me
think
of
the
time
that
my
Dad
decided
to
put
insulation
in
the
crawl
space
above
the
garage.
It
was
in
the
middle
of
an
Iowan
110
degree
day.
My
Mom
said,
"Carl,
go
ahead
and
do
it
if
you
are
that
stupid."
Ten
minutes
later
he
came
crashing
down
the
ladder
and
landed
with
a
thud
on
the
garage
floor.
My
Mom
said,
"Serves
him
right."
Turned
on
the
garden
hose
and
showered
him
with
the
cold
tap.
I
told
her
this
and
she
said,
"Ya,
right,"
in
between
laughing.
The
two
of
them
have
always
amazed
me.
Each
in
their
own
breath.
Each
remarkably
funny.
And
kind.
And
filled
with
so
much
love
that
I
am
so
thankful
that
some
of
it
spilled
out
onto
and
into
me.
And
as
I
finish
writing
this
I
receive
an
email
from
Her,
"We're
having
a
beautiful
spring
thunderstorm
here.
Thinking
of
you.
Can't
wait
to
see
you.
Mom."

All That Heaven Allows

If a man does not keep pace with his companions,
perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer.
Let him step to the music which he hears,
however measured or far away.

Walden, or Life in the Woods, 1854

it is almost time to put the screen door on

The Ten Commandments
plays
in the
background
as i write this.
i planted
pansies
and
roasted
a
lamb
and
everyone
felt
the
sense
that
it
truly
had
arrived.
promises
of
days
of
60.
for
a
stretch
of
them.
and
eggs
to
dye.
linens
to
press.
all
in
preperation
for
Easter.
a
columbine
stretches
from
the
foundation
having
hid
there
two
years
ago.
perhaps
you
will
flower
this
year.
the
smell
of
dirt.
i
notice
a
faded
polaroid
of
my
sisters
and
my
mom
and
me
all
dressed
in
our
Easter
best.
me
in
a
maroon
seer-
sucker
suit.
i
know
that
portrait
well.
i
ran
across
an
antique
porcelain
rabbit
my
Grandmother
gave
me
for
Easter
years
ago.
its
celery
bow
bringing
me
to
her.
my
orchid
is
in
full
bloom.
did
i
tell
you
i
have
had
an
orchid
about
to
bloom?

inventing conversations that aren't there

i
stepped
out
my
back
door
this
morning.
a
robin,
head
tucked
between
fluffed
wings,
stuck
its
head
out
and
just
shrugged
at
me.
like
the
cold
and
snow
was
my
fault.
i
suppose
we
want
to
blame
someone.
the
birds
sang,
"see
the
birdie,
see
the
birdie,
chee-e
chee-e."
and
i
shrugged
back.
smiled.
further
more,
they
continued,
"see
the
birdie,
see
the
birdie,
chee-e
chee-e."

how one is my world

http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=2539741

scars don't show in the dark

the
rain
today
made
me
recall
my
first
teaching
position.
Churdan,
Iowa.
a
world
away
from
any
pulse.
but
there
i
was.
and
on
one
of
the
first
nights
there
i
drifted
from
my
apartment
atop
the
towns
idea
of
Iowa
chic
and
followed
the
neon
glow
of
light
caressing
its
object,
a
baseball
field,
with
warmth
and
purpose.
and
it
was
raining.
and
it
all
seemed,
well,
new,
and
fresh,
welcoming,
and
for
the
time
being
that
was
just
perfect.

Untitled

Somehow
the
citrus
blossoms
scent
drifted
here.
It
is
what
got
me
every-
time.
The
joyous
consciousness
of
renaissance.

dah-dah-dah-dahhh

Arriving
and
being
whisked
away
in
a
67'
Buick
Riveria
nicknamed
Silver
Cloud
the
silver
leather
upholestry
still
holding
warmth
with
window
down
and
desert
wind
rushing
in
my
ears;
The
thaw
began.
Sun
warmed
my
bones
and
magazines
piled
next
to
me.
There
was
friendship
picked
right
up
where
it
had
been
left.
And
laughter.
Lots
of
laughter.
Good
food
and
wine.
And
time
just
slightly
passed
until
I
folded
up
the
sun
in
a
neat
little
package
and
slipped
it
into
my
pocket.
And
cascaded
back
home,
unwrapped
it,
and
its
spirit
settled
in
a
place
where
I
knew
it
would
be
for
awhile.
And
under
my
breath
I
hum,
"Here
comes
the
sun."
And
then,
audibly
sing,
"dah-
dah-
dah-
dahhh."

Progress

The
sun
made
ice
snap
as
crows
cawed
in
the
background
and
drips
of
melting
snow
played
a
little
tune
and
growth
was
happening
it
always
is.

These Things make me Happy

An
impromptu
Oscar
party.
A
mother
calling
to
tell
me
that
I
was
doing
good
work.
Sun
that
holds
some
warmth.
Longer
days.
Earlier
mornings.
A
friend's
joke.
He
had
gone
into
have
a
procto
exam
and
as
the
doctor
inserted
his
finger
he
started
singing,
"Oh,
sweet
mystery
of
life
I've
finally
found
you."
Finding
out
that
the
one's
whose
kiss
lingered
vanished
because
he
was
intimidated
by
my
looks.
Flattering
but
still
baffling.
Postcards
from
San
Francisco.
Two
weeks
until
Palm Springs
and
warm
bones.
All
of
you
who
open
up
your
arms.
My
friend
Linda
turns
50.
The
one
whose
soul
is
more
beautiful
than
ever.
The
banana
cream
pie
I
am
making.
Greta.
My
beautiful
parents.
Secret
thoughts.
And
the
promise
of
new
growth.

long awaited spring

It
was
the
kind
of
day
whose
sun
held
promise.
The
breeze
attempted
to
carry
spring.
The
kind
of
day
that
as
a
boy
I
would
go
exploring.
I would
let
entire
days
escape
exploring
the
ravine
behind
our
house.
It
held
years
of
disgarded
items
too
big
to
deal
with
in
any
other
fashion.
Old
Model
Ts,
and
gigantic
Buicks,
and
a
ramshackle
of
people's
desire
for
materials
past
along
to
the
elements.
For
a
boy
who
had
just
read
Boxcar
Children
they
seemed
like
palaces
of
escape.
There
was
to,
of
course,
nature
to
be
found.
Orange
fungus
glowing
against
black
Oak.
In
the
summer
I
would
run
through
it
naked.
As
a
boy,
on
a
day
like
this,
I
would
go
exploring.
Here's
to
hoping
I
still
am.

on this day

I
had
it
all
planned.
On
this
day,
first
thing,
I
would
open
up
a
fortune
cookie-
I
had
been
given
a
bag
for
my
birthday-
and
the
fortune
would
become
this
wonderful
posting.
I
ended
up
opening
three.
The
first
fortune
read,
"You
will get
an
offer
that
will
be
hard
to
refuse."
The
second,
"Travelling
to
the
east
will
bring
you
rewards."
And
finally,
"You
soon
will
have
your
moment
in
glory."
I'll
stick
with
that
one.

Greta is getting older

Greta
is
getting
noticeably
older.
Her
left
eye
is
red-
grey
with
a
cataract.
She
has
trouble
with
the
bottom
two
stairs.
Becoming
unsure
of
herself
in
old
age.
Her
hip
sometimes
shifts
and
gives
out
and
she
skids
on
wooden
floors.
When
we
first
got
her
she
could
be
held
in
the
palm
of
your
hand.
She
was
always
sweet.
So
loving.
She
still
runs
and
plays
as
if
still
in
her
youth.
But
we're
not.
She
is
a
constant
comfort.
Pushing
her
weight
into
me
at
night
as
we
sleep.
Seeking
warmth.
And
lieing
at
the
foot
of
the
couch
as
I
watch
TV.
Always
having
to
have
some
part
of
her
touching
me.
Some
part
of
her
touching
me.
Some
part
of
her
touching
me.

01/25/09

I was looking out my
upstairs bedroom window.
the
one
facing
south.
I noticed the snow
had been drifted
into what,
with
little
imagination,
could be a beach
somewhere
on
the
Pacific.
the
January
sun
starting
to
gain
intensity
for
spring.
I was thinking
what people
must
go through
to make
them who they are;
And then I realized-
that's not for
me
to figure out-
that's for them.
And
there
it
is.

How One is this World II

I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."


Martin Luther King, Jr.

How One is this World

I
stared
at
Lake
Superior.
It's
vastness
overwhelming.
I
had
spent
the
weekend
skiing
Mount
Lutson.
"The
highest
place
in
the
upper
Midwest."
In
the
background
of
food
and
drinks
and
laughter,
lots
of
laughter.
We
kept
hearing
Barack
Obama
and
all
of
us
felt
this
sense
of,
well,
you
know,
we've
heard
it
and
now
we
truly
do
feel
it,
change.
What
an
exciting
time
it
is
to
be
alive.
Knowing
that
as
small
as
Lake
Superior
made
me
feel
that,
now,
my
voice
that
had
felt
muted
these
past
eight
years,
my
ideals
questioned,
my
oneness
seen
as
other
are
all
now
lifting.

untitled

little
Frances
Kay
came into this world
this
week
and
the
two
days
that
followed
brought
with
them
a
full
moon
so
bright
it
lit
my
way
as
i
skipped
into
this
new
year
light
of
heart
full
of
mind
and
joyous.

i want to be called Tammy

i
was
driving
down
nicollet
today
i
drove
by
a
doctor's
office
park
and
noticed
that
one
of
the
doctor's
names
was
Richard
Ballin.
Dick
Ballin
D.D.S
that
made
me
giggle
i
suppose
it
all
started
in
childhood
when,
much
to
my
chagrin,
one
of
our
neighbors
was
Harry
Balls.
One of my all time
favorite
stories
is
my
co-worker,
Steve,
taking
attendance
the
first day of school and
coming
upon
a
name
he
thought
there
was
no
way
he
could
say
and
finally
bringing
himself
to
say,
"Is
Huong
Dong
here?
Huong
Dong?"
and
a
little
hand
shot
up
in
the
back
of
the
room
and
a
small
voice
said,
"I
want
to
be
called
Tammy."