Saturday, January 19, 2019

Saturday Morning

Visiting at the museum is always a good time, but watching Vivian be moved by art really was special.


Afterwards, there was knitting and reading and resting.

Kismet Scarf

Thursday, January 17, 2019

Done.

Because solving the problems of the world in 500 words or less while recovering from a migraine during a lunch break is what God made me for.

Back to bed.
We

Monday, January 7, 2019

At Times There Was Asia

In my high school years, Def Leppard, Chicago and Hall & Oates reigned. At times there was Asia. 

Meanwhile, I was hyper uncool.
I listened to Shriekback's Oil &Gold, Miracle Legion's Backyard, Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon, The Violent Femmes Eponymous, and The Velvet Underground. When my supercool son saw this list in 2015, he proclaimed that even my punk phase was folk. He's probably right to say that I have folk in my soul.

My friends got together and introduced me to Yes, Peter Gabriel, Queen, Gary Newman, David Bowie, U2. Sometimes the Police. Men figured large, the voice of Truth and discontent. Some women were notable simply by being able to hold their own in such company: Liz Phair, Cyndi Lauper, Lori Anderson, Kate Bush, Souixee & the Banshes, Hart, Pat Benatar. Occasionally Madonna.

We had non ironic vinyl and no dates.

Saturday, January 5, 2019

I Want a Goddess Who Stinks

I want a goddess who stinks.
I’m tired of these
Tired goddesses
Their shoulders white and sandals neatly tied
Their back quivers and bows 5
Their lack of men and their pristinely polished shields.
I want a goddess who ruts in the mud,
Back quivering
Who bows to no one but bends
Close to the earth 10
Who buries her face deep in the dirt and the scent of life
Who gathers life and living close to her nose, nuzzling
Who gathers life up gently and pulls it into her bosom
Who licks it and knows it in the dark.
I want a goddess who holds on 15
With hair and teeth and claw
With dirt under her nails and hair under her arms.
I want a goddess who plays and romps
With twigs in her hair
Mud on her toes, come on 20
Her thigh jiggling
Her scent thick about her
Breasts keeping time to her dance through the woods
The flesh of her butt nestled in a crevice
In a cave as she lights a candle and talks to the albino spiders there 25
Whispering their woven secrets.
I want a goddess with food in her mouth
Light in her soul
Fire in her belly
Blood on the ground 30
As she cradles the
Life she creates.
Be gone with these sterile, civilized he-women
Supports of your nicely approachable reality
Systemized and sanitized 35
Beyond recognition
Relegated to the wall
Flowers in your halls of
Destruction, despair and propriety.
I want a goddess who stinks. 40