vine covered castle
along a winding bike route
past progress now lost
Road Trip Haiku #5
vine covered castle
along a winding bike route
past progress now lost
vacation
Road Trip Haiku #3
rain in the Smokies
greening the enchanted woods
our daughters long for
Road Trip Haiku #2
Smoky Mountain sun
brings another red morning
beauty on my bike
June (2012) Daughters
Riona
we walk Venice Beach
we’re offered everything
from CD ash trays,
a strip-tease picture with a dog
in a pink bikini,
and endlessly legal marijuana
(doctor on premises!)
mostly oblivious,
you trot alongside
and point to the homeless man
sitting in the lawn, complete
with office chair and
sleeping bag
i explain. you respond:
he lives outside?
in ALL that grass?
well that’s bigger than our house!
and your five-year-old wisdom
has made this beach day better.
Mythili
the conversations
in the 2000-mile backseat drive
are circular and cute
none cuter than
sisters, learning about the Gold Rush
from historical mama, declare,
We want to dig for gold in these mountains!
with your usual no-nonsense logic,
you casually reply,
You’re going to need a drill.
Isabella
for you,
a trip to California
is no more than an excuse
for a brand new story
to share with all your friends
upon your happy return
that’s my girl
Always an Adventure
the rain beats down
as we stand in hushed surprise
rush to the endless line of cars
where we wait wait wait
always an adventure
the stars beat down
on a tent without poles
dirt as thick as cream on skins
fires that won’t start
always an adventure
the sun beats down
on a misnavigating device
streets clogged with crowds
underground cracks of hellish heat
always an adventure
my soul beats down
on two jobs, three kids
bills piling like paper mountains
parents who miss what i have:
always an adventure
Stardust
i thought i hated you
but you have come back in dreams
the holographic star
not letting loose a feathery dress
formed by British hands
instead the skyscrapers formed from stardust
i could call it haunting
(for it wakes me)
but it is a joyous light
leading so many home
in those underground pathways
too hot to touch in my subconscious
you will return
just as i have to you
and we will remember being eight
and the giant Christmas tree over ice
the guards in front of FAO
and the stardust skyscrapers
now rising up from ash
Bloodletting
it has seeped out overnight
the words lie flat in mountain noon sun
hidden behind pale shadows
unable to fight back the bright
you say to him what i say to mine
i can feel the oozing out of veins
as the peaks disappear in the rearview mirror
skyscrapers nestling us into our nest
i will be weaker now as in those past pale moments
your secrecy lost upon me
but lighter too with the capillary release
of tiny heart drops draining to the ground
Our Day
in 3.5 days
i have climbed two mountains
driven seventeen hours
hiked 1.5 miles
in and out of a canyon
vacuumed the house
bathed and combed three girls
hosted eleven more
drunk seven microbrews
noted the Firefox spelling inadequacies
and noticed that
my friends are all friends
with each other
our kids play like
Fairy Tale Land
perfect combinations of love
and
my veteran husband
can cook hamburgers
like there’s no other option
but meat
on Memorial Day
Love Day
Family Day
Friends Day
Coming Down the Mountain Day
this is Our Day
the love i never had
the friends i never had
the love
the love
the love
all around us.
Carry
as much as i hear what you say
i will never understand why.
how in any right mind
could five rooms full of
talking-back teenagers
ever compare
to the jubilant joy
of young children
dashing through the snow?
their voices carry
like songbirds emerged in winter,
shutting out all the
whipping wind’s hollowness.
yet,
you would rather be here,
trapped in our windowless dungeon,
feeding them the lines
you’ve spouted so many times?
i’ll take my two weeks
and carry them in my mind
on my forever vacation.
for now,
i will draw a zipper across my lips
and, for once, be polite.
after all,
this year cannot carry on,
and summer’s sun,
giggling girls,
and road trips
beckon my dreams
from your harsh reality.
Home at Last
for a thousand miles
we see the reach of
the Mighty Mississippi,
the river we bought
for pennies on the dollar,
the river of dreams
(sometimes nightmares),
the river that feeds us all
and doesn’t feed us.
after cornfield gives way
to soybean field and
amber waves of wheat,
all i can think about are the bison
who ate and fertilized
this prairie, feeding
ten thousand generations
and yet
we destroy it
with unnecessary crops
feeding cattle that could
(and would) do the same as the bison.
as night gives in to day
we cross the border
and see cows in pasture
(home at last)
a truck with a Kentucky plate
(home at last)
and hope that one day
we will release
the native grasses
and allow the prairie
to be home at last.
