Drifting

from Two Ghosts/poems
x
x
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxECHO LAKE
X
A gray scaly fish, dead,
with a glazed eye bulging
past its socket,
floated on the water.
I dipped my hand into icy Echo Lake,
rocking the rowboat.
x
My father said sit still,
do you want to turn us over?
x
Of course not I told myself,
because if we fall in and we sink,
I'll get lost in a bottomless evermore.
x
Echo Lake was lassoed by trees
in a ragged circle,
the sky rising above forever,
and water that went down, kept going
on a path till it reached a star
on the other side.
Nothing returned to raise its head
ever again.
x
If I called out
Help,
only my own voice would come back
over and over like a ghost
before I became one.
And that would not save me.
x
My father was right,
so I sat still.
x
x
c all rights reserved

Just For Today!

WARNING! WARNING! ADVICE TO
MYSELF AND ALL ARIES,
SHUT YOUR MOUTH TODAY!
X
Don't say anything. Better to be safe
than sorry. Zip it. Stuff will enter your
mind today that's better left unsaid.
Might create a problem if you can't
control your jumpy thoughts.
x
It's going to be a little iffy for you to
distinguish between a good idea, which
you always think you have, and one
that's off the wall.
x
Try this new way: Stop and think before
you utter a word today.
x
Without a pause to consider the real world,
you might wish you'd stayed in bed.
X
BUT REMEMBER, TOMORROW'S ANOTHER DAY!


GOOD ARIES/ BAD ARIES,
WHICH IS IT GOING TO BE?
x

Cleaning Cwirks !

THANK YOU SO MUCH, POETIKAT, FOR INVITING ME TO PARTICIPATE IN A LITTLE HOUSE CLEANING CONFESSION SESSION. QUIRKY YOU SAY ?...
I'll have to reach for that one. THANK YOU, KAT, FOR RAISING MY CONSCIOUSNESS!!
X
No, that's not the entrance to my apartment. That is the Hall of Mirrors at Versailles. Just a bit of gallows humor. Anyway...
x
I'm almost overwhelmed by the introspection necessary to explore this task. It's been a long time since I've pondered anything this deeply.
x
1. Cleaning is not a concept that immediately comes to mind. My cleaning arsenal consists of a neat card, with a picture of a dust mop on it, and a telephone number for Merry Maids, Inc.
x
2. I have not abandoned all chores. Milo (cat) lets me know if I'm not doing my part. But I must wear rubber gloves to empty the litter box. Otherwise I'll be ill. That stuff is so yucky.
x
3. Kat uses a bikini on her face to filter dust. I use mine the normal way, for my kind of house cleaning, when I sometimes swipe table tops for dust. And to see how far my neighbor can lean out his window before he loses his balance.
x
4. I no longer get any newspapers, so it's hard to clean windows anymore. The only "windows" I do clean are on the Internet. A bit of spit on my finger tip takes care of drops of sticky food on the screen.
x
5. I always have tape wrapped around my hand, endlessly picking up the hair that Milo sheds. You'd think he'd be bald by now.
x
Well, that's it. It is rather exhausting just writing about cleaning. I salute all of my bloggy pals who use something called
elbow grease!!

A Little Spooky.

THERE ARE SOME ODD SOUNDS, ODD HAPPENINGS IN MY
APARTMENT THIS MORNING. NOT THE FIRST TIME.
x
Coming out of the kitchen, balancing my oatmeal bowl
on the small yellow tray, I pay close attention to Milo,
the cat, who is having a flying fit. He generally crosses
my path a few times as I walk to the bedroom,
where I have my breakfast every morning, so
I must pay attention not to stumble. Which I have done,
without oatmeal, and Milo cries when I'm hurt. It is
plaintive and sadder than my tears. His amazing
soul is then thoroughly exposed as my mate.
x
We were passing that ordinary corner, before the
bedroom door, where Milo sometimes pauses to stare,
as cats sometimes do, at an empty space. Today he
almost skidded to a stop, looked upwards, because he
too heard the distinct sound of a cello, one note
only, perhaps a "G".
x
I stopped for a second, then put my tray down on this
desk, this very place, the center of computerland,
bloggyville, my full life's destination. How the hell did
that happen? Anyway, sitting down, reaching for
the white napkin..it's gone. Compulsive me, back to
the kitchen..has to be there because I use it to pick up
the bowl to place on the tray. Not there. Foolishly think
I'll find it under the desk. Why waste a new one? Cello
corner is neutral. I pass it by. Something says my name.
Milo's on the windowsill, can't be a witness to ectoplasmic
hi jinks. I reassure the air that they'd be better off to
stop hanging out in my apartment and just go to heaven!
x
No napkin on the desk or under the desk. I'm not going
to retrace my footsteps again. Some things that fall to
the floor under my desk disappear into another dimension,
stay for about a year. Like the gold earring I dropped,
searched with practically klieg lights shining on the floor.
It popped back into the world about a year later, nestled
near my tapping toe.
x
A napkin shouldn't vanish. An earring, maybe.
Could be some wraith wants to play dress up.
But what use is a napkin? Unless to be draped
in ghostly fashion so that the cellist can just say "boo".

Under the Sea

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Dr. Sylvia Earle
x
I want to give full credit to an article,
"Mapping the Sea and its Mysteries",
that appeared in The New York Times
Science Section.
I like to be surprised by accomplishments
not dreamed of in my experience and admire
the good Dr. Sylvia Earle for being a pioneer
and an adventurer.

x
In the photo above, Dr. Sylvia Earle pilots
a one-person submersible known as Deep
Worker. In the 1980's, she helped found
two companies to make vehicles that would
open the sea's depths and recesses. Ever
since, she has sought, illuminated and
explored the abyss of the sea.
x
x
The sea squirts in the photo, may indeed seem strange.
They are chordates, but the list of their relatives is
quite extensive:
x
17,000 kinds of fish, 70 species of dolphins, whales, seals, sea lions,
and yes, strange as it may seem, otters! Also, 10 kinds of sea
turtles, and about 80 kinds of sea snakes.
x
AND:
As stated in the article... close relatives to Homo Sapiens!
What are we not a part of?
x
Maybe that's why we love the beach. Just looking for some colorful cousins.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxphoto/ Dr.Sylvia Earle/ National Geographic
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Looking Out.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxTHE WINDOW
X
I was standing on the warm side of the glass
last year
as a deer tracked along the fence,
stopping to snatch
a crimson berry
lying beside a jutting root.
x
The cold side of the window
wore its winter mask.
A panorama of shivering trees,
frozen in a blind ritual of icy slumber,
waited for a signal breeze
to bloom the first bud.
x
This year the snow is less stacked.
A filmy blue curtain touches my face
as I lean against the window frame,
again in honey warmth.
x
I watch a squirrel in chilly famine
scrape the barren earth,
not two feet away
from where we buried Harleycat
on August fifteenth.
x
He loved to sit on the sill
in sleepy pleasure,
watch a cardinal swoop
to alight on a low branch of the sycamore,
then leap against the glass
with a craving
to make the red feathers his feast.
x
x
from Two Ghosts/ poems
x
to order:
888-795-4274 ext. 7876
www.xlibris.com
www.amazon.com www.bn.com
www.borders.com
or at bookstores

Springtime!

WELCOME TO SPRING!
WELCOME TO ARIES!
X
Here's one Aries baby, March 22,
jumping to the conclusion that
Jack Frost is history once more!!
x
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
XXXXXXXXXXX ARIES
X
Falling in winter's demise,
three inches of snow can't halt
the impertinence of daffodils
pushing to stand on earth
made virgin again.
x
Renaissance in the garden
is a holiday for Aries.
A promise carried on the air,
a trace of green to sniff as hope,
to live anew no matter what the year collected.
x
Aries discards history with a snap so sharp
that the past is not only over and done,
but resting in winter's crypt.
x
At the vernal turn,
trust without end,
a blade of grass,
a childlike laugh,
once more to cross
the threshold into spring.
x
x
from TWO GHOSTS/ poems

Cracker.

ALTHOUGH THIS IS A TRIBUTE

TO THE GREAT ROBBIE COLTRANE,

OTHER ACTORS WHOM I ADMIRE,

WHO ARE RADIANT AND RIOTOUS IN

both comedy and drama, will pop up

to receive accolades.

X
What brings this up is an article in the Times
about the series, "Crackers", starring Robbie Coltrane,
which is now being issued on DVD. Hurray for that!
x
For those of you not as fanatical about British Police
Procedurals as I, let me explain. Fitz, Eddie Fitzgerald,
Coltrane's character, is a plump, arrogant, masterful,
penetrating, harsh, sharp, forensic police psychologist.
Solves them all, of course, and receives spiritual as
well as physical bruises.
x
I place this series just slightly below "Prime Suspect",
Helen Mirren's masterwork. On the level with
"Inspector Morse", with the late, great John Thaw.
And almost side by side with the esoteric,"Wire In the Blood",
with the riveting Robson Green.
x
Coltrane's been Hagrid in "Harry Potter and the Sorcerers
Stone", in recent years. But started and was trained In
Glasgow. Was a partner to Emma Thompson with a
comedy troupe, appeared in Kenneth Branagh's "Henry V",
added to the mayhem of Black Adder, as did the original
Bertie Wooster, Hugh Laurie, (opposite the inimitable
Stephen Fry as Jeeves), who is presently wasting
his time as the dissipated and misogynistic "House", when
he should just shave, wash his face and do a bit of song,
a bit of dance, a bit of seltzer down his pants.
But I digress.
x
What put Robbie Coltrane's name above the title was "Nuns
on the Run", with the "wacky" Eric Idle, who needs no
introduction here. I admit, I'm a complete sucker for
ridiculous drag and silly Nuns. Quite a transition then to
"Cracker", but my deep preference for comedy doesn't
erase Coltrane's personification of the super sleuth,
Eddie Fitzgerald. Ready for another round of that.

I Spy

THE WINDOWS OF MY APARTMENT ARE HIGH UP, AND OVERLOOK

A COURTYARD. I LOOK INTO THE SKY, SEE A DRIFT OF GREY. WHAT IF IT'S DRIZZLING, SHOULD I TAKE AN UMBRELLA? I CAN'T SEE

PAST THE BUILDINGS AND TREES.

X

So I turn on the TV to channel 999 and I immediately get a full view of the lobby, thanks to the inter-cam. I can now see, through large front doors, dimness, at 6:45 in the morning. But no umbrellas passing by.

x

The night doorman is pulling a large yellow bucket on wheels, for a final swabbing of the entry. He's stopping to open the door, then turns to answer the house phone. Who needs him at this hour? Could be a water disaster. This building is infamous, for even the walls have been

known to spring a leak.

x

There goes that snob Tommy, (who was arrested last week). Apt. 3J. Walking Misty, his Lab. A little on the early side? Did someone take care of Misty when he was taken away? He's back now, so was he arrested or not? Drugs, Mrs. Fields told me in the elevator yesterday. Anyway, Angel, the superintendent has keys to every one's apartment. Mine included. Lots of luck trying to find Milo, my cat. Or stop a flood. But that's another story.

x

Well, well, is that Betty, Apt. 12M, in the doorway, kissing, holding hands with someone? Does not look like her husband, or her son. She did change the color of her hair last week, put lots of blond streaks into the brown. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

x

Starbucks, across the street, must be open, 7:00 am. Here comes 7H's housekeeper, balancing 4 cups, and a bag of who knows what? Breakfast for the family.

x

Tommy's back. Misty's stopping to play with the night doorman, Santo. Really. We have Angel, Santo, and the doorman who walks all the dogs in the building, Jesus. Now what could possibly go wrong in a building with these wise men?

x

I can see more of the street now. Sun's coming up, quite clearly. Truck backing up in front of the building. Someone's moving in, or out today? I'll find out later.

x

Channel 999? Really convenient. Actually I'm only interested in checking on the weather.

Soundless

A LITTLE GHOST STORY FOR FRIDAY THE 13TH
X
From: TWO GHOSTS/ poems
x
x
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxSOUNDLESS
X
Late in the afternoon as the sun swept
its final glow across the sky, I sat
in the kitchen with a blue lined pad
arranging my homework for tomorrow.
x
No noise was heard of footsteps approaching.
Then suddenly my grandmother was at my side.
I gasped in surprise again,
and wondered
why she made no sound.
x
Because, she said, that's how we were
in the village where I was a child.
People floated when they wished to
and I learned their natural ways.
x
Not as high as the ceiling,
just inches
from the floor.
x
I asked if they were ghosts.
She said no, not at all.
x
Ghosts are able to do
so very much more.
x
x
x
x

Another Horror Flick

I see a figure approaching through the mist. I know who it is. It's Jason,from Friday the 13th, and he's baaaack!

He scared the wits out of me the first time around, hate this kind of movie and the last thing I want to do is see the new bloodfest. I can't believe they're bringing it back, although major bucks will probably be made, since the newbie is coming out on Friday the 13th!!!! What a surprise.

I attended once, many, many years ago, only because my Sonny Boy, my son, was an actor in the movie, and done in by Jason, in the usual horrifying way. A mother's loyalty knows no bounds.

The premise is probably the same this time around, a group of teenagers gather at a secluded getaway. Never quite looks like the ideal vacation spot. They fool around, they get killed. Jason dies? Well, he comes back for the next film. Undead again.

So Sonny Boy gets offed, and adding insult to injury, he is also beheaded. Now here's the weird part. For the scene, a life/death mask is made. The "head" is to be placed into a trunk, to be discovered by whoever is left. Except the head disappeared, in real life, never to be found again. They rushed making a paper mache head for the scene, a very unconvincing "likeness" of Sonny Boy, but with blue eyes bulging. I laughed. I also tapped the girls sitting in front of me. Absolutely could not restrain myself from telling them that I was HIS mother. I almost had to sign an autograph.

The thing is though, who took Sonny Boy's "real" head? Will it someday turn up in an old prop room, roll out of a box, and....Or is it sitting on the mantle of some demented......Oh, sorry, that's another movie.

Eyes

FOR A LONG TIME I SAW THE WORLD AS A MOSAIC.
NOT IN A POETIC OR POLITICAL WAY, BUT IN AN
EVER DETERIORATING WAY, WHERE OBJECTS
TOOK ON THE SHADE OF OATMEAL, NO BLUES
existed in my spectrum, only greens and yellows,
blending into a fog. Even my green eyes seemed
an odd, shadowy color. Which I just attributed to...
well, I'm getting older, aren't I?
x
I continued to "do" my art, collages still had their
texture and balance, exploration and originality
were never denied. But, aha, I'm also a makeup
artist and I persued that, as usual. I know where
your mouth is, those two orbs are your eyes.
Up close and personal, my style! Everyone
became as gorgeous as could be. From habit.
x
But I was failing. Walking down a long flight
of stairs, someone actually approached me
and asked if they could help me. Startled,
I thanked them and declined, stubborn within
my realization that the moment had come
to get real.
x
I've completed two successful surgeries recently,
and the amazing result immediately was seeing
the color blue again. And the astonishing outlines
around people, they lost their amoebic shape.
Me...I didn't look as soft and flawless anymore.
What's that? Freckles? Lines? My own face, hidden
from me for so long, tucked away in my dream of
myself, revealed at last! So that's what I look like,
and no one's run away ?
x
In the next few weeks, more work to be done, just
to perfect the total reclamation of my vision. I, a
long time embracer of fear and doubt, have released
myself. That eye below, not only can I do it, but
I can be it, if the crazy occasion ever arises!

x
x
x
x

Dream Dance

Exerpt, "Two Ghosts",

from the poem:

x

A PHOTOGRAPH OF OCEAN BEACH

.....I'm thinking of myself,

of slipping into my yellow tee shirt,

jeans sitting low,

dancing with everyone, but mostly alone.

Of tasting a coke

and licking a lemon.

x

Of wading across the floor

at the Sea Turtle Bar, my shoes disappearing

in a blaze of purple strobes,

my bare feet lifting in levitation

to Jumping Jack Flash.

x

Of knowing the time is close

to winding down the dance,

and I have to go back to my life

past the door where the children sleep.

x

The next words I say will be in sunshine,

and a beach with umbrellas

might calm my edgy spirit

till the night again takes me and the music

x

a downbeat away from The Dead,

or a short glide from home.

Orient Express

I am out of breath and looking over my
shoulder, as usual, as I try to mingle
with the crowd here at the Gare de l'Est.
Does my veil look too obvious?
x













The Count, my Uncle Vanya, roused me at an early hour,
opened the back gate of the Chateau Bonaparte, where I've
been held a virtual prisoner, thrust the Faberge Egg into my
trembling hands, told me to guard it with my life, kissed me
on both cheeks, and sent me on to The Orient Express,
where I will be guided by this little man, Mssr. something
or other, to my final destination, Istanbul.
x
My passport photo shows me as a simple
young woman, nothing, not a trace of my
past shows on my face. The name, of course,
is nothing like Anastasia. Just simple Greta,
a poor student from Paris.
X

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxTHE EGG

X
BOARDING AT THE STATION

IS QUITE THRILLING,so much

hustle and bustle. A funny little

man is squinting at me. Could

that be Mssr. what's his name?

x

A huge coffin shaped box is being

hauled aboard the train. Could it be

a coffin? There is an odd insignia stamped

on top. Also metal bands encircle it.

As if anyone would try to get in or out!

x

At last in my room, I remove my veil, and

hardly recognise myself, red wig, red lips.

I unpack my blue velvet frock, I think just

right for lunch. I reach for my pearls, but no!

I am but a simple student!

x

A very handsome gentleman shares

my luncheon table. The bright, white

tablecloth casts a clear light on his face.

He introduces himself, "Bond, James

Bond. Something about you stirs me.

Why are your hands shaking?"

I want so much to trust this stranger. Dare I?

x

Again the funny little man is sitting opposite me. Aha,

the waiter calls him Mssr. Poirot. I do believe he is the

one Uncle Vanya told me about.

x

My word, what is that commotion at the end of the

dining room? Shouting, pushing..I must run..but

I am now alone in the baggage car...why did

I come this way...and that box, that coffin

in the shadows, can that be a tapping

I hear from within?

x

Of course not.

...of the day...

PRAYER FOR GOD'S GUIDANCE

X

God be in my head, and in my understanding,

God be in mine eyes, and in my looking,

God be in my mouth, and in my speaking,

God be in my heart, and in my thinking,

God be at mine end, and at my departing.

x

Source: Sarum Primer, 16th Century

x

For friends who have left too swiftly....

x

x

thanks to Beliefnet.com

Cure-All

YESTERDAY I SEARCHED THE DUSTY
SHELVES OF MY BOOKCASE, AND
FOUND THE FRAGILE BOX, INSCRIBED
WITH THE LOGO, VAPO-CRESOLENE.
IT DIDN'T CONTAIN THE LAMP I
WANTED TO FIND, WHICH WAS MADE
TO HEAT A CREOSOLE SOLUTION
to cure what ailed the patient,
for instance:
x
Inhaling the vapors was thought
to cure Bronchitis, Spasmodic Croup,
Asthma, and Whooping Cough.
Also to be used for distemper of
horses and dogs, and respiratory
diseases of animals, and manufactured
by Vapo-Cresolene Co.
62 Cortland St., NY, NY.
Care should be taken the first 15
minutes to make sure the device
doesn't smoke or explode.
x
From the late 19th Century through
the mid- 20th Century, many substances,
prohibited today, were legally available.
Pan American World Airways promoted
in their menu, the purchase of a
Benzedrine Inhaler, (amphetamine),
which was an over the counter
product till the 1950's.
x
I haven't yet found the vaporizer to complete
the set. It's back there somewhere. Mine is
clear glass, not the milk glass shown
in the illustration.
X
I would never have begun the search
for the vaporizer if it hadn't been for
Willow's post yesterday about a
lovely oil lamp.
So thank you for the inspiration!

x

Maybe they didn't travel as fast in

old days, but they seem to have had

a smoother trip.

Captain Kool

XXXXXXXXXXXX MOLLY KOOL xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

FEBRUARY 23, 1916 - xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

FEBRUARY 25, 2009xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

x

MOLLY KOOL, A PIONEER OF THE

COASTAL WATERS,has died at the age of 93,

two days after her birthday,in Bangor, Maine.

She was the first woman in North America

to be a licensed ships captain.

x

Known as Captain Molly, this native of Alma, New Brunswick,

was officially recognized by the Canadian Government as the

first woman to hold captain's papers.

x

She faced violent tides, fire and ice, rain and fog. She also

received the disdain, disbelief but ultimately the respect

of her male colleagues.

x

" Her blond hair up in curls, that is Miss Molly ashore...but in

her barge she knows no fear"....

x

In 1939, she wired her family, "You can call me Captain

from now on".

x

CAPTAIN KOOL:

XXXXXXXHIP HIP HURRAY!!!!!

X

X

Based on an article in

The New York Times, March 2, 2009

Jackpot !

THERE IS THAT MOMENT, WHEN
SITTING AT MY COMPUTER IN THE
WEE HOURS OF EARLY DAWN,
I AM POISED TO CLICK
ON THE ICON FOR "NEW YORK
STATE MEGA MILLIONS". TO
CHECK AND SEE IF OVERNIGHT
I'VE BECOME BATHED IN WEALTH
BEYOND EVEN MY DREAMS. TO
wonder FOR A SPLIT SECOND if any
deals with angels or imps will
FINALLY bear fruit.
x
Deeply held values, not far from my consciousness,
flee for a second, as I see myself entering my Rolls,
paparazzi in pursuit. Never for a moment will I forget
my humble roots.
x
Anyway, CLICK!
x
Someone else won $212,000,000. One person,
from, for God's sake, New Jersey! Not even NY.
I am shrunk to size once more. I'm waiting to hear
the latest winner promise not to change, as I know
I surely would. If you can't flaunt it on the red
carpet...only kidding...you guys know how spiritual
I really am.
x
Friday's drawing, ONLY $12,000,000. I think I'll
wait a couple of weeks, till the pot becomes
"enriched", then try again.
x
x
x
x
xxxxxxxxxA fun opportunity to
join in the adventure aboard the
Orient Express, leaving on
Monday, March 9, 2009.
Room for all...details at
Museswings...
All aboard!!!