happiness is
turning my moments
of inspiration
into
stream-of-consciousness
Pinterest sessions
where one may choose
cakes made from edible flowers
lavender lovely
make wedding centerpieces
from hemp rope,
vintage coffee sack burlap,
and the discarded
quilt pieces of the
Daughters of the American Revolution
my poetry waits quietly
in my pocketbook
content in my joy
encouraging me
to be my own woman
a connoisseur of literature
a goddess of wine
Dionysus triumphant
a suburban expatriate
who refuses to put a rug
on her toilet lid
born to a people who do
Tag: joy
Categories
no elegy
no elegy
for me, please
i plan to die
with laugh lines
i put on some water for tea
then decided to mop the floors
of our new little nest
before the furniture gets carried in
before the rest of our lives happen
Murphy’s Oil Soap
water and sunshine into a bucket
carried through the echoing emptiness
of what will be
over original hardwood
placed there in 1941
i love to clean
the ritual of it
i write in my thoughts as i work
images painting themselves
into spaces around my gentle humming
spreading wet across the grain
seeing hands that mopped this floor
before me
wives husbands
fathers mothers
lovers and
put-upon teenagers
oh this house
has a history
built the year
the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor
it’s all still there
nailed down memories
layers of time entombed in wax
someone stood in that living room and heard
we dropped the bomb
we landed at Normandy
of a flag raised in Iwo-Jima
Kennedy was dead
Vietnam was a lost cause only good
for folded flags being handed to weeping mothers
Nixon was a crook
Reagan and John Lennon had been shot
the Berlin wall had fallen
i heard first steps
crying babies
crying widows
joyous laughter
say cheese
wine glasses clinking together
realizing with a smile
this floor is mine
the foundation of a family
and i will love it
then
the teapot
began to whistle
my son had
his first kiss today
and all i could think was
this is the first time
there is no page
upon which to enter this first
into
his baby book
old lovers hell bent
would have us dress in mourning clothes
.
for them
our dead love
they will never accept
our rejection of black
.
it is an abyss
a futile endeavor
tulip bulbs planted in drying cement
unable to blossom
.
no, no
we must never yield to this
.
as it is my nature
to move forward
grow toward the sunlight
moving my body
.
swaying salome
.
swooning to the music
.
the beauty of life in every note
whilst performing
.
the dance of the seven veils
the bedroom curtains
would be left open
upon my insistence
.
framed with clinging frost
to better gaze into the late evening sky
.
sure Santa Claus would find
his way through my stars
.
as i watched intently
from beneath
my Cabbage Patch Doll comforter
only to fall
fast asleep
listening for reindeer sleigh bells
.
not knowing
.
life is never what it seems
.
but exactly
what lies within
the human heart
.
may yours be filled
with love and hope
this happy Christmas night
Categories
rage jar
spring is having its way
with me
and the trees
blooms buds
throw rugs
drapes
everything clean
new
fresh thoughts and ideas
i’m keeping nothing ugly in the house
furniture
chipped dishes
anything that reminds me of you
not even angry thoughts
so i’ve placed a rage jar
on the old roll top
ringing my own pavlovian bells
each time you cross my mind
serial killer of happiness
stealing a moment of my peace
i put a five in
at the end of every month
i will donate the contents of
the redemptive vessel
to a battered women’s shelter
my anger transforming into compassion
making something good come
to a woman in need
from the evils that you do
day on which
i looked in the mirror
and wished for my 1990 hair
for one fleeting moment
thinking
all my reasons to drink
are dying
sang electric light orchestra songs
in the shower
using the voice of donald duck
drove passed friday front yards
with black dogs rolling
in joyful snow
Categories
for the remainder of it
i
want
to
move
through
the
world
chasing
springtime
Categories
the port of messina
ruins of the fortress smolder
.
she has been unchained from the tyrant
freed by howling liberators
.
all cease to hail
the master of bloody card tricks
falling
he fails to find grace
or coins for his dead eyes
behind unfearing ears
.
the man who would kill the world sure in the notion
he was the sole heir
paraded backwards atop royal donkey
steam rising from his legend
he now knows the planet is round
.
she tosses her ring into the bottomless pit of him
.
grateful for life yet to be lived
her mind races to gather precious moments from the fire
optimism kindness mercy wisdom charity
all she has learned
placed into saint juliana’s reliquary head
carried in her saddle leather
.
gilded war horse mounted
her rosewood eyes survey the newly lost world
she follows the light upward
embers rise from collapsing thatched rooftops
becoming stars
as they reach azure firmament
.
around her neck
a rosary made for the christian messiah
silver crescent moon for allah
the seal of solomon
and a piece of amber for those who know
god is the sky
.
riding stick lashes across time
thunderously galloping
toward the gateway to the holy land
she seeks a new jerusalem
.
plumes of red and orange organza
silk and chiffon
explode from her stride
the dust remembering big bang theory
as she soars triumphant
towards a goodness
unlike any she has ever known
.
a place where tongues speak truth
hearts are brave and upright
so that any god may love them
.
surrounded by those
who have paid their prayer tax
she has made her own way
to the port of messina
.
behold the blue sea
.
cerulean wishing well
.
and the possibility
of a heaven
that will decide
what becomes of us