There comes the disbelief
and the day
when a daughter comes to tell
the matter

And she knows you can't help
She knows there's no way
to convince
that afternoon to think about it....

No way to stop the fire in the leaves
of the driest April in twenty years
as it blackens the acres
and blurs the eyes
to all but its own emergency

Before it
the hay of last year's weeds
and all those buds that hope conceives

the flight of all that lives...

The plight before...
...The fire-line...

forces every hand
to the pure product of heat and light--
then to ash
and not to ask "This once was living?"

A senior class wrote their friend good-byes
...could not bring herself to...
...bring herself there....

She had to bring the mourning home
to make alive
to raise the sun--

"He slammed the medicine chest
And saw....
walked through the kitchen
opened the frig for the zillionth time...
Then walked a mile
in the woods behind his house."

Warm for April
short-sleeve warm

"...And I keep thinking
how the sun must've felt on his face and arms
He must've been swinging the jug
and--
WHAT WAS HE THINKING?

They found the empty amber
a hundred yards behind....

I keep seein' 'im put the handful to 'is mouth...
...Then the jug...
He must've had to swallow hard
They say you could tell
...where he stumbled...
...by the leaves...
...found 'im    on 'is side    with the jug
...just beyond    'is hand...

Oh Ma!  
I CAN'T!  I CAN'T!"

...So I--
"Maybe he was mouthing the words to a song.
...anyway the birds went on
and he was still warmed by the April sun

when they found him."

The orchid is flowering
Opening,
a living mandala
Next to my bed
I hear it in my dreams
It's telling me very strange things
About the chemistry between us
And what being a flower really is
And what it really means.

There's a lot to learn.

The orchid whispers in chemical symbols

I danced through the night one night
I drank water in the desert
The sweetest taste, I've ever known
I heard a sound I've never heard before
The buzzing of Chi
Blowing in
while the curtains fluttered
In the night time wind.

Our time I know is limited
Forever wilts away

But while the orchid is flowering
That's for another day

I find myself longing for the scent of the night and at least
One more dream to go.

Dozens of days
still can't remember
my name

but you know it don't you?

gender is such a distraction
I can see the temptation
the relative ease
not having one

but I'm a woman
what a woman

disgraced and redeemed
over and over

desire and dismissal
obsession and obstetrics

cowered before villains
an army of millions marching behind me

told the plain truth
lying with only my smile

tripping over my words
in a stream of pure eloquence
there's  nothing left for me
but to be burned as a witch

cackling as the flames
flicker against my feet
a phoenix

Do I love you?
Do I,
Love...?

The words have stopped
doubled over on themselves
in pain
unrecognized

In truth
I wouldn't know--
you, Love?
But maybe from a picture
thinking--
"This is from where the poems come?"

Having never searched your eyes
with mine
nor heard your voice
invoke me

Known your thinking
in any given moment
Nor you, mine

Nor watched your hands
for hints
endear
affection
in expressions

Could you forgive my mess of moments?
the lame that years have left
so slow circles
the lonely artless?

socially inept

I fear
you could not forgive the fear
for so long
left behind

How can you say
you love me?

By what assurance do you

Speak into my void

More important to be honest
than original

If hackneyed lines race from your pen
let them run let them run

at the end you'll find
there was no race at all

no trophy awaits you

break free of the track
ride your truth all the way into the sunset