Mid february

Surviving another Valentine"s Day
I buy myself flowers
And have them gift wrapped in
     Bright red tissue paper
     Red and white ribbons
A gift? She asks? Sure
Why not
And then I notice
Among the festive flowers
And chocolate displays
A depleted man
With a dozen red roses looking equally
Worn
He is so new at buying flowers
He has lifted the entire black plastic water
Tub bringing it with him and the roses to check out
I am tempted to mention
There are more roses outside the store
By the door
If he wants a fresher look
But he is not thinking
About the flowers
Or even noticing them
Thank goodness the
Beaming tissue and ribbon bearer
Is here
To offer him
An honorable deliverey
If Hallmark suggested
Windshield wiper blades
Most of us would
Be slapping rain
With precision
Mid February

News

Somehow in the telling
I feel the sadness again
As though for the first time
Only harder
A lurch of the heart
As I feel you hearing
Knowing she is gone

No recipe

Life being a grand
Experiment
With inspirational
Ingredients
A dash of color
A splash of intoxicating
Flavor bursting on the tongue
Mixing every delicious sight and sound
Incubating into
Soul

Art objects

Art is not an object
It is not still life
it is the way
You tilt your glasses down
So you can see over them
Seeing me clearly
Or the intent of your soul
To create
Something new
Even if today
It is just the way
You hang up the broom
After sweeping
Or arrange the dishes just washed
On a clean towel
Awaiting the time to compress
Being into
Beauty
Sealing a random moment
Pressed like a flower picked in a meadow
Out of context
So now my art is you
Living strung out
Moment by moment

El capitano wharf

We have come
Sea to shining sea
And the glistening
And gulls
And salt filled air
Gust around me
Blowing in fog
I taste with my tongue

Redwood trees

Camping
Pitching our colorful tent beneath you
By the river
Seeing the reverent circles sprung up around trunks missing now
The younger trees sustained
Forming rings around the hallowed ground of your passing
Caught here in time
I feel the silence of years
Pierced by an untroubled camp jay

Contained

A certain rising up of myself
Out of the mind
Feeling a bodyscape
Familiar yet unknown
Edges that define my stopping and starting again
Years spent in empathy
Making this skin inconsequential
Now calling for definition
Singular appreciation
Stroking with lavender
Claiming myself

In my skin

Maybe it was watching the olympic rider gathering up his horse for the 3 jump hurdle through water
Feeling his confidence across the field where we stood hoping we were out of the way enough, colorless enough not to be a distraction as horses galloped by on either side on course
His body looking so relaxed
Elbows squared steering from his seat his shoulders anticipating the lift dead center easily pacing the few steps between landing and takeoff
Airborne as though all of his skin had embraced his horse perfectly
And they soared as one