~ Recent Publications and Works in Progress ~.
I saw you stand before me, felt the tickle of your fingers as you brushed the leaves from my recessed letters.
I felt your warmth against me, as you laid upon my granite, and tears from unanswered questions, soaked into my engraving.
Don't cry. I am all around you. Can't you feel me tease you as I rustle the autumn leaves?
For I am the fragrance of the flowers. When you sit on the rocks with your feet in the stream, that's me caressing your ankles.
Don't you understand? I get to play with nature now...
Read full poem in ReView Magazine
I like to sing to the garlic as my knife passes over it, back and forth like a fan. I picture it simmering in the butter and oil, note how the liquid will float around the granules, making them dance and bounce, swirl around until they turn brown.
They need to finer, so I keep my rhythm, the tip of the knife firmly planted as I raise and lower the blade, up and down back and forth, sweeping the pieces together then fanning them out again.
As I slide the sticky garlic off the cutting board, I reach for the wooden spoon. Three turns clockwise, the garlic says. And then a pinch of salt. I trust it and do as I'm told...
The moment I walked through the handmade trellis I felt I was inside a poem. Not just any poem, but one by Robert Louis Stevenson. It just had that feel. Soft. Gentle. Very cared for, and very English.
Perhaps that’s a funny comment from someone who has never been to England, but I have seen and breathed England through the poems of my childhood, and this garden had that magical appeal. I almost expected to talk with a rabbit before I left, because here it could have been so.
The Connie Hansen Garden it was called, one half mile off highway 101, in the small sleepy town of Lincoln City, Oregon....
"How long to Lakipia?" I asked as the car zoomed down the center of the road.
“Lakipia? Three hours.”
We were going at least 70, and from what I could tell, ‘sides’ didn’t exist. Oncoming cars barreled straight towards each other at lightning speeds, and whomever felt like it, moved at the last minute.
"You like my city?” We spun into the dirt as the truck whizzed by then screeched back on to the road. It didn’t look much like a city to me, more like lean-toos and shacks with sporadic blanket stores, but I loved it. “It's beautiful” I answer, praying I’ll stay alive.
“Yes, very beautiful.” He was not slowing down and another car had appeared in the distance, fast approaching us. I braced against the seat and cringed. He laughed as the other car zoomed to the side to avoid us. “How’d you know he’d move?” I asked. “I moved last time” he said.
I never thought I’d find myself lying on a ceramic bed with a two inch tube up my bum. In fact, if you had ever suggested that I do such a thing, I would have laughed so hard you would have thought I was insane. But there I was, lying on that bed, with a two inch tube up my bum.
And that’s two inches long, by the way, not wide. I wondered too.
We were on the Kona Coast of Hawaii, in a golden, solar-powered house, off the grid. Heaven for someone like me, fed up with the noise and rush of modernity. This two-week event promised sunshine, daily yoga, swimming on Magic Sands, healthy food, a sound healer, a life coach, and….yup, colonics.
I don't know why I put on lipstick. He can't see my smile through the mask I wear. But our brief flirtations at the liquor store are the first I've had in years. Senior citizen discount day, Mom and I are regulars. Here's what happens: I open the car door and he puts in the scotch.
I can tell he is kind by the twinkle in his eye. The salt and pepper hair suggest he's my age. So I dress cute on Mondays and hold the door for him. Sometimes we stand for a second before Thank you! and You're welcome! And although that's all it is, it's enough to make me flutter.
I don't know if we'll ever date, or if he'll ever see me naked, but he sparks a question I've yet to answer...do I warn the guy I'm one boob down?
“Time to get up!” my father whispered, shaking me lightly at the crack of dawn. "Happy Birthday kid! We should leave here in about twenty minutes, so start getting dressed!"
Yawning, I sat up in bed trying to open my eyes through the block of exhaustion. Today was my birthday, my special birthday, because I was turning eleven on the eleventh. I don’t normally get up at 5 a.m., especially on my birthday, but we were going on a game run and our chances of spotting lions were better in the early hours.
I glanced around the stone room. The first rays of morning mingled with night's left-over darkness engulfing me in its peaceful gray atmosphere. Perfect! It was going to be a beautiful day! The bat that shared the room with me was hanging upside down above my bed. He didn’t scare me though. He was a friendly bat who usually resided there during the day. I bid him good-morn’ and got dressed.
