Dream On...

ILLUSIONS

X

Water isn't a peril

unless you're drowning in it.

You imagined you could start

your own way of breathing

while riding the waves.

x

Now you want me to save you.

I can say yes,

I can.

x

I know how to put my mouth to wounds

to kiss the damage away.

I myself write notes to saints

x

but every bleeding gash I show

proves less worthy

than the stigmata.

x

Alright, I'll save you.

First time for me too.

x

Step one,

stop nailing smoke to the wall,

then

send flowers to your memories,

and bury them

as if they were a dead princess.

x

x

c copyright/ all rights reserved

Three Poems

xxxxxxxxxxOLD GIRL
X
Cat is grown old,
and black fur
has new depths of grey
that catch
a drop of water
she splashes
from the chipped Wedgwood.
X
X

xxxxxxxxxxEXCUSE
X
I trip
running across the bare floor
as a splinter catches my heel
and I call out
x
Don't leave
because I am hurt.
X
X


XXXXXXXCOFFEE BREAK

X

The bone china cup

tips over

spilling tan coffee

x

into a puddle

that looks like Jesus

x

x

X

Post script:

All of these poems were written at least three years ago.

Already published in my book of poetry, "Two Ghosts".

No pictures attached. Just now, while browsing for some

appropriate pictures, you can imagine my surprise when

I stumbled upon the photo of the spilled coffee. Now how

can that be, ready made? What a confluence of energy!

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

Pasta

RIGHT INTO

THE POT,

X

PASTA

MEETS IT'S

DESTINY.

X

I need this rescue tonight. Nothing else will do.

x

x

As the very salted water roils, the strands, just a

second ago straight as straws, start to fold into a

fated al dente perfection.

x

I am going to gently heat the Virgin Olive Oil, and stir

in a few cloves of garlic, smashed with a cleaver

against the marble board. I love softened garlic,

not fried to a crisp, so I baby it till it's done.

x

A few flakes of red pepper scattered atop the mix,

float like a school of very tiny goldfish.

Then the pasta is finished and poured into the colander.

x

Hurrying, I'll then toss it into the oil mix, heat for a sec,

grab the blue ironstone bowl, drop in the pasta, and

every lick of oil. Black pepper, ground again and again,

dots the entirety. Last, I'll use the grater to shave a

small handful of Parmegiano Reggiano.

x

Stir. Breathe in. Eat.

Tea

Text by: Holly Lebowitz Rossi and Lilit Marcus

from: http://www.beliefnet/ .com



" TEA ISN'T A CASUAL DRINK, it requires the careful

choice of the best leaves, the patience to wait for water to

come to the right temperature, the knowledge of how long to
steep, and the time to let the wisps of steam warm your face as
you savor every sip. In places from Buddhist monasteries to
English parlors, tea has also long been recognized for its healing
properties, from the the antioxidants in green and white tea, to
the restorative properties of various herbal blends. "


What I like about the preparation,
is being a partner of tea.