Saturday, February 18, 2017

Saturday Morning Has Slipped By





As the saying goes,
nothing lasts forever.
Not even Saturday morning
when I'm up at 5:30.

Good thing there's another one
in seven days.

Friday, February 17, 2017

The Women in My Maternal Lineage



The women in my maternal lineage,
at least the ones I know about,
seem to have a strong dose of psychic ability
in their makeup.

One of my aunts was living in Connecticut
during the Second World War
with her military husband
and got on a train across country 
to her hometown in eastern Oregon
because she had a feeling
that something was wrong at home.
She was right -- her older sister 
had gone missing.
Everything turned out fine,
but Mona's intuition was spot on.

Her daughter, my cousin, experiences
a disturbance in the force when a loved one dies.
Sometimes they appear before her at what she later learns
was the moment of their death,
often to deliver a message.

When I was in high school,
one day when my mother was 10 minutes late
getting home from work,
I waited (in a state of agitation)
for the State Patrol to call to tell me
that she had been in an accident
and what hospital she'd gone to.
They called about 5 minutes after my nervous system
went to high alert.

Come to think of it,
it's not just limited to the females of the line.
Both my sons have strong intuitions,
though one of them seems more uncomfortable 
with the gift than the other.
The dreams he had, about things
that later happened,
were profoundly disturbing to him.
"Mom," he said. "Don't you think that's weird?"

"No," I answered. "When I was your age,
I was so used to that happening
that I just assumed everyone did it."

I haven't ruled out the possibility
that I'm living in more than one universe.
I know for sure that I walk between worlds.



Wednesday, February 15, 2017

Left Brain, Right Brain



Hmmm. . . . 
are you more like the umbrella woman
or the sunglass woman?

Left brain
Right brain
or a good balance?

Oh and by the way 
HAPPY BIRTHDAY in absentia
SUSAN B. ANTHONY.


Tuesday, February 14, 2017

Happy Valentine's Day




I very much want to believe in the magic of love --
the romantic kind, 
the "I've got you under my skin" feeling,
and that it's possible for me.

It took me so long to recover from loving someone
who had a tendency to love the one he was with
that I don't know whether it's possible
to love someone that much again.

For those of you who've found it,
cherish and celebrate what you've got.

Love is a many splendored thing.

Saturday, February 11, 2017

Well-Behaved Women





I'm not in any way equating
a letter by Coretta Scott King
with Janis Joplin's sometimes colorful vocabulary.

There's no equivalence
between Janis and the words read by
She Who Was Warned, But Persisted.

But one of the ways that men
choose to exert their privilege
and power over women,
is to subtly or not-so-subtly
squelch our speech.
Make us feel wrong or stupid
for what we say.

They don't want us to speak out.
We might expose some ugly truths
they are trying to conceal.
They want to control the narrative.
Run the agenda. Be the bosses (of us).


They want us to know our place
and not make trouble.

You know the old saying. . .
well behaved women rarely make history.

Friday, February 10, 2017

Haiku My Heart







a head of foam froth
starting my morning with chai
listen to your heart

Wednesday, February 8, 2017

Post No Handbills





I called this piece
Post No Handbills.

I've seen signs that say something similar
posted on subway walls, on sides of buildings,
on upright surfaces like telephone poles or fences.

Those signs are most often accompanied
by posters and handbills galore.

One memorable place
that images on top of images had collected,
some ripped back in places
until there was a glorious collage
saluting commercial and protest art,
was on the wall of London's Tube.

I stopped to take a photo
of one enticing spontaneous collage. . . 
much to the embarrassment of my son,
who thought I was crazy for taking a pic
of a dirty wall in the Underground.

Some Moms are like that.

Underground art.