1.1.12

Wishing you a magical and sweet New Year

12.31.11

the slam, the crash, the break of it
[waves to the shore]
crack of shells and tiny pebbles
[sand is everywhere]
all the tea in the world will never be enough

and the freighter on the horizon speeds out to sea
another new year's eve far from shore

12.31.11

12.30.11

12.29.11

12.29.11

republic, lost

butcher shops, basements, and masquerades
invisible and unmoored (?)
tornadoes, wonder-walls, and fierce tears
the distraction of their time

the cat is running towards or away in her sleep
her feet seem to be saying, "we have come so far,
it can't be over"
we have talked our extinction to death.

12.28.11

12.27.11

12.25.11

postcards from Arizona. Christmas Day.

every rock here calls to be climbed. (me, I think of all the snakes hiding in the crevices. I'm sorry. I can't help it.)  I've heard scorpions sleep under the bark of the cottonwood trees.
today's trail: mostly juniper and pinon.  and the largest spider web I've ever seen. a shape the size of a golfball bouncing in the middle.
there was one small cloud in all the blue sky. all day.
I sat on rocks, feet bare and ate chocolate.
the day disintegrated into family crushed into the den watching Bollywood & me, hiding,
headphones on, blasting organ music, and here, these few clumsy stumbling words.

12.25.11

12.24.11

12.23.11

postcard from arizona. again.

sometimes the Sugar Plum Fairy misses a step &
we're all left with that feeling that something's missing
among all the tinsel & gold-wrapped chocolates &
voices raised in prayer & song that ring hollow &
even the very air outside is empty. cold. tasting of metal &
all the thousand thousand words that slid & dipped & sank
never really saying what was meant. never really meaning
what was said.

12.23.11

12.22.11

12.20.11

12.20.11

postcard from Arizona #3

no sunrise today but fat clouds snow-heavy
split into shreds at noon - stripes of blue
vast waves of shoppers weighed down with bags
above the blare of parking lots - mountains. snow-dusted.

12.19.11

a postcard from Arizona #2.

fog this morning hid mountains, mesas.
afternoon sun melted the last of the snow.
sun sank early into wind from the north &
the yips and howls of coyotes.

12.19.11

12.18.11

a postcard from arizona.

the hissing sound of freezing rain on stone.
the snow on low-slung pines.
the half-moon slouched on the dark shoulder of mountain.
and the stars. the millions of sharp too-bright stars.

Michele 12.18.11

Michele 12.17.11

michele 12.17.11

Michele 12.16.11

Michele 12.15.11

yvonne 12.13.11

"I did not allow myself to think of ultimate escape...one step at a time was enough..."

an entire family. rescued from a burning home. even the dog.
just another winter in nyc. everything's on fire.
and me? all I can think about are produce aisles and
forests full of the scent of pine and rain.

Michele 12.12.11

Michele 12.11.11

yvonne 12.11.11

"explorating performativity" sounds like a bunch of hooey to me.
so I'll turn the page, maybe run off and open a tea shop.

yvonne 12.10.11

we are tiny beside the water.

yvonne 12.9.11

It's not that I can't imagine Still
It's more that I can't imagine Not Moving.

It's not that I can't imagine the full moon in my window
It's more that I can't imagine having a window.

It's not that I can't imagine True Love
It's more that I can't imagine even the first word.

Michele 12.10.11 Full Moon

Michele 12.9.11 Full Moon

Michele 12.8.11

michele 12.7.11

12.7.11

Dec. 7th: pearls. before swine.

pearl: a hard object produced within the soft tissue (specifically the mantle) of a living shelled mollusk.


harbor: a part of a body of water along the shore deep enough for anchoring a ship and so situated with respect to coastal features, whether natural or artificial, as to provide protection from winds, waves, and currents.
2. such a body of water having docks or port facilities.
3. any place of shelter or refuge:






Pearl Harbor, attack on: December 7th, 1941
2,402 Americans killed. 1,282 wounded.

Michele 12.6.11

Michele 12.5.11

yvonne 12.4.11

between my finger and my thumb.
between my toes. like mud. or the river running.
leaf membranes fall, scatter. and winter
winter comes.

Michele 12.4.11

Michele 12.3.11

yvonne 12.2.11

"He painted with fists and elbows"
imagine. the angles. the smears of oil.
the unstrapped images. the chaos.

yvonne 12.1.11

sometimes it feels as if I'm watching the entire world collapse around me. sometimes it feels as if I'm shoeless. in a snowstorm. sometimes it feels as if all the rain that's ever fallen stays behind my eyes. sometimes it feels as if words like "emergency," and "crisis," and "terror" have no meaning. sometimes I can't remember your face, your voice, the shape of your hands. sometimes I wake to your shape. sitting. at the end of my bed. sometimes I shake and shake my head. to get your name out of every corner. sometimes it feels as if I'm watching the entire world collapse around me.

Michele 11.30.11

Michele 11.29.11

Michele 11.28.11

yvonne 11.28.11

a week of calendar pages:

pukka: adj: genuine or authentic; also: first class [the picture of a pukka gentleman]

anabasis: n 1: a going or marching up : advance; especially : a military advance
2: a difficult and dangerous military retreat  [The anabasis at Dunkirk...]

epigone n : a follower or disciple; also : an inferior imitator [she is merely her famous teacher's epigone]

chary: adj : discreetly cautious : as a: hesitant and vigilant about dangers and risks b: slow to grant, accept, or expend  [Many members of Congress were chary of voting]

hermitage: n: 1: the habitation of a hermit 2: a secluded residence or private retreat; also : a monastery 3: the life or condition of a hermit [Amos would head out to his hermitage]

scapegrace: n: an incorrigible rascal  [her teenage brother, a scapegrace who too often found himself in trouble]

jabberwocky: n : meaningless speech or writing  [The salesman started spewing jabberwocky at me]

perprandial: adj : of, relating to, or suitable for the time just before dinner [the preprandial conversation was so diverting that no one noticed]

maffick: v : to celebrate with boisterous rejoicing and hilarious behavior  [Fans mafficked for hours outside]

Michele 11.27.11

yvonne 11.27.11

a list.

green Christmas lights (called "holiday" lights). two strands. one broken.
the cat. asleep. on a stack of clean laundry.
a man on the television. complaining.
ocean-deafened voices. (a memory of)
persistence. politic, cautious, meticulous.
his belt. the leather split. the buckle broken.
a shadow at the window.
the sink clogs and clogs. and drips.
everything still smelling of airplanes. strangers.

Michele 11.26.11

Michele 11.25.11

yvonne 11.24.11

[posted late due to lack of internet access.]

11.24.11

I am thankful for sunrise. and sunset.

I am thankful for friends who tell me the truth.

I am thankful for Beethoven.

I am thankful for (good) poetry.

I am thankful for dark chocolate.

I am thankful for 2 legs, 2 arms, and 10 fingers & toes that (mostly) work.

I am thankful for running water. electricity. hot showers.

I am thankful for brussel sprouts. sweet potatoes. ginger.

I am thankful for the 40 years I knew my brother.

I am thankful for violins and loud guitars.

I am thankful for all the good sex I've had.

I am thankful for a place of my own with a door that locks.

I am thankful for books and libraries and all those many words.

I am thankful for Heaney and Yeats and Plath and Joyce.

I am thankful for Scrabble. Clue. and running up hills.

I am thankful for mountains and oceans and all the roads in between.

I am thankful for laughter. parades. dancing. even clowns.

I am thankful for crescendoes. allegro. adagio and andante

I am thankful for Yo-Yo Ma. Isaac Stern. Beverly Sills.

I am thankful for the freedom (mostly) to speak my mind.

I am thankful for basketball. swimming. yes, even dodgeball.

I am thankful for eyeliner. mascara. and the freedom to wear both (or not).

I am thankful for coyotes. javalinas. cats. dogs. and horses.

I am thankful for sunrise. and sunset.

and all the moments in between.

yvonne 11.26.11

Equiclose. Standing in the middle of a space.

[and how are you defining "space"?]

reading in summer. the hot sun. the words melting.

Mars became real.

[What exactly did the Dealer's trade involve?]

Although fall wasn't much different. crisp air. crisp shoes.

crisp words. and all that rain made the empty lots Heathcliff's moors. Cathy howling forever in the wind off the mountains.

[although there was never an October like that?]

He was nothing but a middle man. And me, I wanted more.

I wanted spring and winter and drifts of paragraphs.

I wanted every word ever written and bookcases to put them in.

[But he never asked you, did he?]

Standing in the middle of all those words. melting.

Even Heathcliff. Even the Martians couldn't keep me from

drowning.

Michele 11.24.11

Michele 11.23.11

yvonne 11.22.11

today:

sunrise over the highway. only a single semi and some birds. the sky was pink. blue.
cold frybread, oranges, black tea for breakast.
Bobby V. in his big truck drove us down all the rutted steep dirt tracks to the canyon floor.
Handprints older than any god. antelopes running, horses, and later the Spanish with their guns.
rivers of mud. cottonwood and peach willow heavy with gold leaves.  I bought silver: hand-hammered, hand carved.
doorways full of shadows. stone on stone on stone. no mortar.
red dust. white horses running. a field of corn, alfalfa, cotton.
the long road back up.
frybread, salsa, sunburn and cold tea for dinner.
every corner of the sky filled with stars.

[chinle/canyon de chelly/canyon de muertos, navajo reservation]

yvonne 11.22.11

recipe for fry bread.

ingredients:
4 cups flour, 1/2 tsp salt, 1 tbsp baking powder, 1 1/2 cups warm water, 4 cups shortening.

directions:
1. combine flour, salt, baking powder. stir in 1 1/2 cups water. kneed until soft but not sticky. shape dough into balls about 3" in diameter.  flatten into patties 1/2 inch thick. make a small hole in the center of each patty.
2. fry one at a time in 1" of hot shortening, turning to brown on both sides.

drain on paper towels.

Michele 11.22.11

Michele 11.21.11

Michele 11.20.11

Michele 11.19.11

Occupy Wall Street protests

Michele 11.18.11

yvonne 11.17.11

courage is not the absence of fear.
why is my mouth so dry. drier than every before.
perhaps it's no more than a fascination with
life, its mess or
the slap slap slap of the helicopters as they shake the windows
in their weak frames. [shake my bones and teeth.]

Michele 11.17.11

yvonne 11.16.11

cold    Raw silence, wind-blown
even her very walk is vicious  - even her laugh
all the sneering afternoons  full of bile
leave me

Swimming towards the lure of: books, sleep, 

the blue glare of the evening news.

Michele 11.16.11

yvonne 11.15.11

walk small. talk big. OR talk small. walk big?
anomalous states of being lead to a lesser ignorance
or just words to cling to as with drowning hands.

Michele 11.15.11

yvonne 11.14.11

I fear: bridges collapsing, rivers rising, tidal flood warnings.
I fear: the earth splitting open and the St. Andreas Fault.
I fear: the steep streets covered in rain, awash in memory.

Michele 11.14.11

yvonne 11.13.11

* "needs and desires are always in some sense received back from an 'other' "
* the lull of new stillness. or: the sound of empty hangers swinging. or: the way the air moves in the moments after a helicopter moves on.

Michele 11.13.11

Michele 11.12.11

For one of Jorge's favorite pigeons. RIP Whitey

And I dream of a different  soul
Dress in other clothes:
Burning as it runs
From timidity to hope,
Spirituous and shadowless
Like fire it travels the earth
Leaves lilac behind on the table
to be remembered by

Arseniy Tarkovsky

Michele 11.11.11

Michele 11.10.11