Saturday, April 12, 2008


The huge cherry tree
Is blooming again.
Underneath countless pink flowers,
We had our last meal together:

Little white lights twinkling overhead,
Petals falling like star showers,
Into our dinner, our hair- assuaging us,
The Milky Way crying for us
One year ago.

Thursday, April 10, 2008

Spring Wind

It's the end of the day.
I'm looking out the window;
Soft, fading light bronzes the
Cannon Building, across the way.

Ocean waves of balmy wind pour in,
Kissing my soul's tempest.
My hair streams like ribbons
Around the Maypole of spring.

Monday, April 7, 2008

LJ Joins Another Dating Site - and has Lots to Say

Tips for the unsuspecting male online date prospect, from our sweet LJ.


I love this poem:


Folks, I'm telling you,
Birthing is hard
And Dying is mean
So get yourself
Some loving in between.

- Langston Hughes

Sunday, April 6, 2008


Life’s journey--
Of dirt roads,
Slick city streets,
Broad avenues, dark alleys;
Cobblestone, weeds,
Snow and black ice--

The paths are traveled with
Family who nurse us from the womb and cradle,
Feed us, change our diapers,
While we are helpless
To do for ourselves.

Friends, may walk for years beside us,
Or for only a few minutes,
Close at our sides,
We see them clearly, know their pace,

Still others keep faithful distance
Along a parallel path—
Trees are between us;
We can not see them,
But we hear their voices and know the sound
Of their footsteps in the leaves.

Teachers help us to discern
The merits of the road less traveled,
Help us to know others and ourselves
Give us confidence
That the path is straight, and good.

Lovers’ passion
Makes us skip, jump, run
Like lava, sweet and molten, then--
Cooling off, becoming hard and cold,
Side-stepping the rocks,
Seeking disparate trails.

Others, we encounter briefly,
A cool grotto – soothing to the touch,
Yet the water is rancid,
Tainted with strife;
We learn the course to avoid;

Siblings walk steps behind
For years in shade,
Forge divergent lines
Always returning, with changed gait
Or knowledge of the terrain;

Stretches of solitude:
With loneliness comes understanding
Of self and others,
And of the journey–
We learn in exile how to
Navigate streams
That seem too deep to traverse.

We run from the shadows of ourselves,
From hostile and wild things unknown,
From sorrow, anxiety, fear
We stumble, skin a knee,
Lick a finger, taste our own blood.

Storms pummel us, wind chaps our faces
Muddy spots and fallen trees block the way—
We detour great distances
From the intended path, building strength:
Our legs lean and strong from striving.

The clouds clear, the sun rises,
The air is sweet, white beach sand
Between our toes feels like heaven,
Balmy salt air enchants us
We linger, but the road is always changing,

Let us endeavor to hold the hands,
Of those who stumble,
To walk, to run, to jump, to crawl when we must--
Never stopping, always savoring,
All for the pleasure and the weight
Of the road under our feet,

So that our faces may be
Lined with the tracks of living.

Penicillium roqueforti

Aka Stinkadelic Stealthbomber

Song of Soulzon:
Stinky, psychedelic,
Controlled rancidity,
With lagoons
Of dark green fungus
Amid putty dunes
Of butter-cream.
Sheep’s milk
Hits the tongue:
The fat
Dissolves, melts—
Potent drug
Bombs the mouth,
Streams between
The teeth (which
Crunch the calcium),
Barraging the roof.
When swallowed,
The hot fungus
Attacks throat
Epidermal cells,
A battle ensues,
Sniper-fire, ricochet
Artillery, Grenades,
Schrapnel, buckshot;
Parachutes drop
Tiny armed soldiers to
Attack the jugular,
Rainbow of heat
Swirls, cells scream,
Break the glass,
Pull the alarm,
Fire trucks arrive--
No water--
Burn like a sea
Of jellyfish
Stinging the throat,
Eyes crossing, streaming tears,
Vertigo, tunnel vision.
Coughing for Chateauneuf du Pape,
While ewes laugh-mock:
Lacaune, Manech and Basco-BĂ©arnaise,
Angry for spilt milk,
Their teroir invaded;
Inflict woolly revenge
Of a thousand solar flare peppercorns
Aimed at the throat
Of anyone who
To taste it.
All hail
The King of Combalou!