Nostalgic Love
My tenderized heart
craves remembered passion yet,
while cool head prevails.
Allspice
Allspice. All the time.
The slick magazine-version of my life longs for it.
Or is that just the surface,
hiding long restless hours in torpid poses
on white silk, perfect boredom pouting my lips,
airy laughter and animated wineglass-clink?
My bones long for earth, mattresses, floors,
something solid to hold them up.
They never wanted to get up this morning
but my good-for-me brain said “must.”
Now, sodden mind craves newsprint in rebellion.
Distraction it’s middle name.
The clash of fantasy and comfort’s cling ebbs and flows.
Sometimes I’m content—done ok haven’t I?
Allspice? or all plain? More fear? Or more folly?
I made conservative choices, chalking them up.
And what did I conserve? May as well have danced wildly.
At least a little bit.
I’ve found my fancy for the plain.
Is that self-knowledge and acceptance?
Or atrophy and small living?
That “other hand” stirs so many colors it can’t remember what to paint.
But the splash of pumpkin orange is perfect in itself.
Allspice? A quandary, isn’t it?
Sugar and Spice
This is my holiday greeting this year–a celebration of the sweet spices that find their way into so many winter treats. Happy nutmeg, allspice, ginger, cinnamon, clove and anise. These spices go so well with sugar, chocolate, red wine, conversation and coffee. Stay sweet.
Motivation
What wonderful place does this stuff come from? Some of us have the motivation that shimmers in our eyes or pushes our feet through concrete. There’s not much telling where it lurks or when and how it might hit us. But we all love it when we’ve got it.
In This Room
There’s nothing new about recognizing the value of my workspace. But it’s reassuring and affirming to put the distractors in their place and celebrate the muses I find there.
Portland
When it’s hard to stand up, sometimes the asphalt can help. I found that my town was there to support me in some wet, green, slippery, nice sort-of way. It’s a sweet town
Portland
When I fell from marriage, home,
bland feats of life-as-I’d-known-it,
coupled-into some twenty-plus years ago,
suddenly everything was a question again.
What is? What isn’t?
All my assumptions broke into pieces:
sharp; slithery; and none-too-shiny.
Portland spoke through my ticklish in-step.
She pressed into the soles of my feet with
rose-and-tumble acceptance,
as I skirted puddles known and unknown.
Restless possiblity swayed along my sides
while Portland steadied my stride—“It’s ok.”
Who knew that asphalt could be a tender touch,
that this patient, old-friend town of mine
would roll out padding and take me easy,
while the stuffing in my head blew ‘round
many cups of coffee: many thanks, Portland.
Broken Hearts Seem Such a Waste
This piece from About Love has gone thorugh a lot of transformation–from problem piece to oneof the centerpieces of the show. I’ll feature this piece at Scratch–Portland’s wonderful performance lab. In the meantime, what do we do with that detritus from love gone bad?
Love that Was
Can you go back into a relationship? Can you process out of a relationship? Maybe–maybe not. Doing anything constructive with love seems to be a bit dicey, but worth the try…These are 2 short Haikus–Love Retroactive and Love Lost, but not Forgotten, from About Love:the bittersweet heart, debutting February 22 in Portland.
Haiku Reflections
Sometimes Haiku are a great way to sum things up. Sometimes they get things rolling.