I'm probably going to end up being haunted by the glowering ghost of Bach for this one, but then - how cool would that be? Ha!
today I would trade my squelchy shoes and sodden self for warm dogs and ticking radiators, steaming mugs of freshly brewed, nearly obscenely creamed coffee - there's even, I think, a donut on the kitchen counter with my name on it saying stay in! but instead it's frizzled hair, unending responsibilities, and rain that managed … Continue reading squelchy Monday
a woman at work innocently asked and where's your other brother? even after ten years I often cannot bring myself to say he's dead so I said Minnesota instead, which I think he's probably laughing about wherever he is or isn't saying now that I have one brother feels false as soon as the words … Continue reading counting the dead
by the roots, you say, but sometimes the roots are impossible to get at or they've spread immeasurable tendrils in countless directions so that even when pulled, pioneers still bust the sod and burst in yellow jeers at all my efforts may as well give in (nature always wins) and call that weed a wildflower … Continue reading weed philosophy
how must I look - this graying Botticelli who walks with crows in a constant spray of black cawings, a dark-feathered wind I would not dispel one is for Sorrow, two is for Mirth, and the bursting laughter of those first brought the flock that now follows glossily, seeking tidbits from one who says "well … Continue reading channeling the crazy crow woman
it's easy enough to say it's complicated and leave it at that truth is I've conjured enough complications to keep anyone at arm's length a definite divide to keep separate your skin from mine I never guessed you would simply lean over the fence © Sarah Whiteley
darn crow stole my lighter - my only one - and tossed it into the bushes! now bobbing head and ingratiating croons his desire for treats - the black-feathered cheek! - but for the next hour, I watch him tuck them carefully beneath stones, treats now, treasure later © Sarah Whiteley I figure it's about … Continue reading thief and begger
It wasn't me! It was these shoes! They dragged me where I didn't choose! As soon as they were on my feet, off they went on down the street. If they weren't so tightly tied I might have taken back my stride, but they stomped my fingers when I tried and yanked me up the … Continue reading shoes
I. Don't. Cut. My. Hair. -well, except for maybe a little trim now and then, but not so's you'd notice- It's been two decades since I s(h)aved it all and (s)hoved it all in that /hateful/ boy's face two days before the prom and (it along with) my sharp- boned shoulders (s)ticking above that dress … Continue reading Hair.
this morning, before morning really, before the light had begun to line the eastern sky, I walked - feet testing the crispness of those first fallen leaves (someone must, after all, be the first to fall) while Orion hung so impossibly bright, so brilliant even from beneath the glare of the streetlight, that I had … Continue reading the dangers of stargazing