Blood stains won't come out of the stories from which I sprout I sit upon King Philips's hill And ponder Fair Harold and his Will Should I wish my history more just? No, No change for me. I am a must!BTW, King Philip is Metacom. In theory, the cairns up our hill were a massive crematorium after the battle in Sudbury. In the book 1066, Harold's England is portrayed as very egalitarian. As much as things seem unfair, change one iota and everything changes. So, much as I appreciate the injustices of history, to wish they did not happen is to wish myself away.
Granny's Teapot, 2007 More...
Blue and white with simple flair Away from China and Salem chairs It came to me in '78 surviving college and two small kids until meeting its end in early '06 when Irie lunged for a snack behind knocked off counter, crash and goodbye steeped in memories, Henrietta and sweets the grandfather clock and Granny bright eyes, white curly hair, radiant smile Only the teapot's tangible top remains to stir the spirits and serve the past
Bits rot; Paper goes Poof. Etched titanium long preserves. But only fresh copies approximate permanenceThe combined poems: forsythia, day lilies, maple. 2003. More...
a simple and beauteous thing one true sentinel of spring forsythia gold, light or bright yellow and some with a tinge of orange gone mellow rise and be risen fore the green grows push open the season now and thru time bunched and forthright everywhere stretching to the sun's hot glare day lilies rich and orange, even reddish with stems that arc and crowns soon perish yet day after day come blossoms robustly CARPE DIEM now flourish the warmth maple's majestic red drops orange yellow leaves into bed Autumn's foliage shows season's repeat Persephone now signals her Winter retreat crunch quick thru crispy leaves gather the harvest and batten the seeds
The Ocean, 1-AUG-99
The Ocean is Real and like all important things, it is messy: the basketball jelly, the drowned seagull, the waterlogged timber breaking a foot All risks that must be evaluated. But do not forget the awe, the curly crumbl'n waves, the froth of Aphrodite, the salt the same as blood the Respect that Tiamat demands Life, Sun Beach surround the cool haven that plays with our soulsYON