Friday, April 27, 2012


I see my eyes in the tintypes of the ancestors
I hear the rush of hooves when I walk.
The rattle in the grass,
pulls my heart.
I feel the ancient thunder fill my bones
The crow calls to me
My soul answers
in a language lost along the trail. 

Sunday, April 22, 2012


Every day I put my hand through the spiders' web,
to open the gate.
Every night she casts her net again.
I step out into the morning, 
wearing the ghost of her blind determination.
Reminding me how to begin.
Keeping the fierce fragility of nature in my heart.

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Always in April

To embrace the blissful skin of Spring,
here outside in her perfumed air.
You walk on in the Windsor rain
to wonder
at the wisteria.
And I am here
blessing the butterflies,
in all the colors
you'll never see.

Saturday, May 7, 2011

What I have learned

I have been house sitting for my sister for the last few months - I would like to share a few things I have learned being the surrogate mother to three dogs - approx. 4 cats- inside fish - in a giant Aquarium- and outside fish - in an outside watering trough- (hence the word outside fish v.s. inside fish just in case you were confused) the same is true for the approximation in the number of cats- inside v.s. outside. Oh and we also act as an ersatz nature preserve, living on 5 acres in the country- and by the country I mean more than 10 minutes to the nearest Starbucks.  So this means as spring has been descending on us in the Gulf coast- with its heavy clammy hand - we gets lots of critters- birds, which are really pushy if you don't get the feeders - ( 6 including two hummingbird feeders) stocked regularly and promptly, various small amphibians; frogs, geckos, reptiles i.e. anoles , oh and snakes did i mention snakes? We don't feed the snakes directly but they do monitor the health and population of the other animals here in our little corner of paradise 
So in caring for the dogs - one of which is 130 pounds- yes that is not a typo - 130 pounds of sweet dogginess- I have learned that:
A) that Cesar fellow is full of  shite- no matter how much I maintain my "calm pack leader 'tude"- when you are late for work and the dogs are playing "oh I've changed my name and now you must guess it for me to return inside the house", game it's really hard to maintain that cool demeanor.
B) there is not too much grosser than observing one of your beloved pets eating/rolling and otherwise enjoying (read: acting like a frigging hyena for Gods' sake) the carcass of some dead mammal object- If I was really the pack leader - they would bring that foul object to me - and respectfully drop it at my feet. Now all three of these dogs will drop on command things like; paper towel rolls, socks, and other household items that might find their way into their sweet doggie mouths- but drop the dead - squirrel/raccoon/possum remains - and it's, no way boss, they are all like, White Fang- and "Do we know you?"
C) Be careful what you wish for - bless their canine hearts - they did bring the carcass to me - a few hours later in a nice gooey pile on the dining room floor- After they had thrown it up !!!-and you thought seeing them enjoy it was gross - after about 45 minutes of , "what's that smell ,and where in Jesus sweet name is it coming from ?"  Well *sigh*- let's just say some of us were scarred.
And in closing- I have also learned that love comes in many forms.  At the end of my day when I come in the house and am greeted by the menagerie, I feel loved , needed, secure and home, and I really miss my sister.
p.s. does anyone have any tips for getting possum stains out of carpet? thanx in advance

Sunday, April 24, 2011

The Visit to Marie LaVeaus'

The Jerusalem Rose lies
curled in a gray ball- under the
Devils' Shoelace and sharks teeth.
Powders for love, luck and misery.
under the saints of Haiti- for the lost
the barren, and the thieves.
Pick- lock oil and tangle lawyers tongue spells
remedies for the ages.
I lay down my money behind the beaded curtain,
for my palm to be read like a book.
Its' lines do not lie.
Her nails are grimy and her tee shirt
stained like the black flood line
that binds the city.
Her tired eyes peer into my folded flesh.
What mysteries to reveal?
My mother is weighty presence, a cord that even death
cannot cut.
She is pushing down on me clinging.
The reader says I must light white candles in bowls of water
and one for Lonely Saint of the flames to let her move on.
My callouses show I am stubborn and lost for love.
And do not heed the advice of others even her...
The scenes from the masquerade dance across the
table between us.
The Sun, the Wheel of Fortune, and the Knight of Swords
all turn up to try to show me, my hard-headedness,
will not allow to me prosper.
Later in the courtyard sun after the Hurricane and the Absinthe,
I look again into the mirror of my palm,
and long for an easy map,
something to untangle the lines.
Which way now? 

Monday, April 18, 2011

On Palm Sunday Morning

Picking my way through the vines
She caught my eye
I saw her in a flutter of blue 
Fit to clothe a saint
All the crushed Lapis in the sun 
Holding my breath 
I was willing her to stay 
A while longer on a Palm Sunday
Feathered grace 
In indigo

Friday, November 5, 2010