introvert curb-appeal
she wants to see out
but not let them see in
a one-way yard
like aviator glasses
or monitored mirrors
she wants community
and to be left to her own devices
to be missed
and to slip through the scene
unseen
she tells them
cut the shrub blocking the window
then thinks better of it
when the job’s half done
she wants to notice
unnoticed
track
without leaving her own prints
she’s like Janus or Gemini
of two opposing minds
hungry for connection
and sated on her own
yard plans
retreat
sanctuary
haven
room for play
reflection
entertaining
welcoming to people
wildlife
plants
types of space:
eating
playing
reading
soaking
things to accommodate:
children
chickens
birds
extended family
things to maximize:
shade
peace
privacy
beauty
desire to be outdoors
inspiration:
Giverny
Japanese gardens
Lauren Springer Ogden
Nepenthe
Kimmerjae
David Austin
Michal Graber
wish list:
ofuro
chicken coop/run
waterfall/fountain
stream
pond
dining shelter
outdoor shower
nooks
shade
as we grow older
we grow rooted
let us make a place
we desire to stay
egg gathering
put your hand
deep into the dark
feel around
for something smooth
draw back out
cradling a warm sphere
made of echoing rings
little wondrous worlds
rich nourishment
to fuel your waking
mud people
Then there were the first humans, whose job it was to offer prayer, tell stories, and remember the passage of time. Made of the clay of this earth, the mud people of the first creation did not endure; when it rained, their bodies grew soft and dissolved.
– “Creations” from Dwellings by Linda Hogan
mud people
we soft squish
puddle and
wear away
tears run rivulets
into furrows into
cracks into
crumbles
we have no hard
to hang onto
no set stone spine
instead we bend bow sway
pray palms high
heart pressed low to
earth’s chest listening
to pulse and wave
pliant supplicants
consumed by awe
all we need
is to make:
prayer / tale
sound salve
time taste
and for you to please take
what our muddy palms
hold out open
trembling
McKinley Park Sit Spot
beneath a net of emerald leaves
riding a raft of restless wind
back to earth
brow to sky
I’m home
mission 2020
I want to burn
some bittersweet love for being
into your heart and brain
until your passion
for this little life spark
won’t stay inside you either
and we all break down
these flimsy plastic facades
that keep warm bodies stiff
and nurture every last
needy other soul
(yes, even our own)
sound work
I am rolling o’s and l’s
into lolling logjams
pushing s’s and z’s
into lazy buzzes
growling r’s gutturally
until they resound
in the hollow chamber of your chest
trying to use
little dots and lines
to make you feel
something
new in your body
not just your conscious crown
Hashkiveinu* for Jared Polis
putting our lives back together
one pillowcase plate and
disconnected pipe at a time
while around us
we feel America
falling apart
how strong
will the blue bruise of Boulder
stand
against El Paso and Weld’s red
in this fairly purple state
that, despite its
humbling mountains
still has its share
of selfish bastards
is still enamored of
cowboys and renegades
western liberty and
the exceptionalism
you find in open spaces
thank you, God, for
our Boulder-born governor
Grant, O Governor, that we lie down in peace,
and raise us up, our Governor, to life renewed.
Spread over us the shelter of Your peace.
Guide us with Your good counsel;
for Your Name’s sake, be our help.
Shield and shelter us
beneath the shadow of Your wings.
Defend us against enemies,
illness,
war,
famine
and sorrow.
Distance us from wrongdoing.
For You, Governor,
watch over us and deliver us.
For You, Governor,
are gracious and merciful.
Guard our going and coming,
to life and to peace evermore.
*The last stanza is an adaptation of the Hashkiveinu prayer.
crisp trim
usually I’m not one
for crisp edges
clear boundaries
things being one-or-the-other
yet I find
painting baseboards
surprisingly satisfying
I decide and dictate
you will be wall
you floor
you trim
now I make sharp lines
strict delineations
keep things separated
for once
unvoiced
my first walk through our neighborhood
and onto the trail
we awkwardly dodge each other
out of kindness
in the beginning
I say Good morning!
but soon realize
people don’t respond
afraid of my exhalation
responsible for their own
so I begin to silently wave
never good with faces
now I’ve lost the voices
from mouths that I might know
in faces I can’t see
we become random bodies
circling around the lake
and an unexpected cold fog sets in
