Thursday, May 10, 2007


Besides the defender, emancipator,
the samurai manifested by fortune conquers
each rival in the branded earth,
awaiting fundamental disclosure of their choices.
A solitary fighter, discovers the enemy within,
he twists and thrashes away, opposing the ocean.

The guardian and warrior, upon swallows of tides,
wrestles the rebels as dragons on fire,
flinging their swords in armor of Imperial ranks.
Like a farmer in arms, the single combatant
clashes with a barbarian over boundary lines,
defeating his foe since he is a true noble.

(2007. This was written for a local poetry challenge.)

Silly Girl

Some people believe they are invisible
They drive in traffic, mouths moving, fingers point,
but they are the only ones in the car, laughing;
or they pick their nose thinking no one notices,
or sing off key with the window down,
belting out to a song on their stereo.

I'm just as guilty; I drive down the road, glance
at my features in the rear view mirror, make faces
until I crack up laughing. One eye squinty, the other open,
my lips stretched out of place like twisted Play-Doh.
I release burbling air bubbles trapped beneath my soul.

I get that ridiculous gut feeling as a part of my innards
burst into jiggling belly waggles
an itch to become the fool I am. I can't help myself.
I yell cat meows out the window as loud as possible.


There. Now I feel better.


Wednesday, May 9, 2007


the wind is a dialogue
between whirling thoughts
that follow my ambiance--
from places of veneration
to days of awareness,
from moments of merit
to times at fault

my thoughts drift through cracks
like a silent draft
floating on high
or spiralling low

the wind sighs
sweet sounds of life
as a sailing vessel
on a smooth course
gliding through water
exchanging ideas
between then and now

a conversation circles
back from gusts to whispers
speaking from various directions
what only I can hear
and keep confidential


Black Out

I am a juice-lapping cat,
licking black bean sauce
from a #28 plate
under a flashlight--
storm ahead, no electricity.

I am a curious cat
peeking out a window
adjusting eyes in the dark
wondering what others are doing,
a nice cool breeze on my face,
a fly crawls along the window screen.

Flashes of lightning,
lights from cars
expose my living room.
Neighbors walk around outside
slamming car doors
speaking in Spanish
waving flashlights in their hands.
A child cries "Mama. Maammaaa!"
Little footsteps scamper
along the parking lot.

I am a bored cat
watching cars pass by
wishing to be
on the computer
checking email.
Instead, I will curl up
on the couch, go to sleep.


Sunday, May 6, 2007


On a Saturday, tired from the day before
I forced myself to rise for the day's promises
duties chosen because I wanted to
made connections in rooms big enough
to expend my energies for something new
to feel known for a little while
discovered creations that others share
listened to their plights, joys, experiences
seeking influences for I will need it
soaked it up until it uplifted, then drained me
because some day I may be like them
sitting behind a table full of my craft
marketing my words printed on paper.



I am a voice in the wilderness
hiding behind trees milled into paper.
Clacking silent at words,
opportunities to express, reveal.
These words come and go
faster than finger snaps,
dissipating into thin air,
finding their way back for future scribes.
I capture words, carve them in stone
unless, depending on circumstance,
they are editable
fast as wind takes another direction,
zipping through one minute,
lethargic as mold the next,
scratch them out
quicker than turning pages.

(2007-2008. Revised)


I'm always late for something.
Like they say, people here
are on Las Cruces time--
often 15 minutes behind,
is considered being on time.
Unlike someone I know
who gets flustered
when I'm one second tardy.
Geez, where is she from?


Near Full Moon

Her head glances
out of the clouds,
she giggles over evening's
black canvas.
Bright, yet bashful,
she covers her mouth,
silly, coy.

She bows in respect
to her spirit,
waiting for a groundhog
to show his face,
waiting for people
to accept her nod.

We smile at her
as she ducks
back under clouds,
like a child peeking
over bed covers.


A Healing Tree

If I were a tree,
smooth and tall with a narrow trunk
a little hip, no knots or age spots,
no dry cracks or oozing diseases,
I would have many branches.

Big leaves that make music
together, reach for blue skies
on a warm summer day, bear edible fruit
for you to eat, keep you happy and whole.

I would strip part of my bark, grind it up
treat you to a tea for whatever ails you,
crush the leaves, blend them in water
use as a poultice until your sores disappear.

I would give you my roots to chew like gum
to cure your allergies or sore throat, or grind,
pour it into capsules and take as a pill, purify
all your parts so you can feel brand new.