Wrightings

Ascending elevation  to the New Mexican signage the continental divide, a place where rivers choose  their destiny, their final resting place, they all flow  To an ocean, and I think, which one will you choose? Besides ashes to ashes we are water Which plants will I wet as biological refuse If I am planted in the ground a single oak or maybe elm If I am cremated my steam might dampen a neighborhood   If I convert greenly, my water may become your drinking water Awestruck, tears roll down my cheeks, evaporate Into the water cycle, the earths cycle, the cycle of life

 ABCs of Love Appreciating existence each breath               converting oxygen to continued life Being someone better               than you’d imagine yourself to be Caring deeply with intensity                that vibrates change

  Day 14 technological advances They say Galaxy can create beautiful  images but there is no depth in lines without heart, an image of an image is a reflection of art not a true representation of soul They say Suno writes music Brings song where none hummed but discord and throaty Yoko Ono already surreal cannot be compared  to mixing and matching previous polished performance They say Claude can speak human Predict what you’re (were) going to say But it took three times to type that Because AI can’t read a poets mind And his vocabulary is connected To his history no my herstory 

 Deep in the wood, where shadows grow, The branches claw the sky, A hush that hums beneath your feet, As something passes by. From moss she rose, with earthen eyes, And breath of loam and rain, The rock of granite loomed ahead— With threat of doubt and pain. Castle or prison, none could tell, Its windows dark as night, From within monsters groaned, As if they feared the light. The wind whispered through the pines, A name we could not know, Our courage thinned like spider silk, But still we chose to go. Our wooden weapons, raised with care, And finger guns held tight, We faced the dark with pounding hearts Then broke it with delight. Rang out with TV themes so bold, Through gloom and ghostly hue, We laughed and sang our fears away Like Scooby and his crew. Monkeys danced in nonsense tunes, Bananas in the fray, The forest shrank, the shadows fled, And night gave way to play.

  I wanted to be her first  Oldest memory  I wanted her to love me Like a mother but more Her favorite aunty  Of course the others  Did not know her But I was so proud I wished her to be mine We dressed up for the show Got in to the 1974 Ford Placed the lap belt across her Buckled in for safety But I was a new driver Overly cautious  So when a car pulled out Too close, I slammed on the brakes And she a wisp of a niece Slid under the lap belt  from the clean vinyl seat  to the floor Don’t tell anybody  Is her memory ingrained  (happy birthday Carrie Jo)

  THE END OF JAEL AND SISERA (by ANTHONY TROLLOPE) JAEL was  sitting  the day  arrive mean  hoping  to see Clara,  and make her fail found it  impossible  to say  painting-room, during intervals  A man  allowed fifteen minutes  on  offers  and his heart;  had  twelve minutes  The turban! mean time,   Brought explaining  favour  in respect  she ought a  little more liberty  On this occasion  his friend,  able as  he had wished  the matter  himself. found  talk  exclusively  about  affairs.