what's that blue thing doing here

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the sky was this fantastic irridescent sapphire tonight
I was reminded of evenings spent in Seattle
laying in the grass after the sun had set over the olympics
watching that blue thing happen

lovers leaving the park
the attraction they came for finished
in the shadow of the black hole sun
ours was just beginning

the edge of the mountains afire
with the last bits of orange from the setting sun
the sky would deepen and darken
developing into richer and richer blue
moving through sapphire to indigo
as the sparkle of planets then stars
would dot the sky

we'd pick them out one by one
as they appeared
huddling in the chill night air
sometimes calling them by name
cassiopea or the twins
orion with rigel and beteljeuse
the horns of taurus and aldarbaran
other times making up our own names
laughing at our silly interpretation
of pots and pans in the sky

walking in the mission tonight
sutro tower was lit by a thin band
pale orange, the vestige of sunset
the rest of the sky doing the blue thing
cerulean to azur to teal
on through royal to cobalt
skipping navy going straight to
ultramarine, deep dark like the ocean
on a clear blue day

i can't tell if the sky is getting bluer
developing like a photo
in the finishing tray in the dark room
or am i just more and more moved
as i experience it
a curtain of color, lit from behind
almost electric

the thinnest crescent from the new moon
cuts like a beacon in the blue
i stop in my tracks
in awe at this stretch of sky
unmoving on the sidewalk
as if swimming in the blueness above

The New Rules by Dave Eggers (reposted here for your information)

THE NEW RULES

I don't know why it came down to me to tell you about this, but anyway, here goes: if you don't buy at least ten books a year, you'll be struck by lightning, or maybe a bus. It's the new rule. Yeah. You'll probably be sent a more official notice in the mail pretty soon, but for now, you're hearing it from me. Ten books a year, or the bus or lightning, each of them very painful and likely deadly. Is the rule a bit harsh? Well, maybe. Some people might think so, but then again, those people won't be with us very long, because anyone who complains about the rule will be disemboweled by bears. Again, not my idea--I am just the messenger here!--but that's the way it is. I don't know why you're worried, though. just buy the ten books a year, and don't whine about it, and you won't be struck by anything or have your insides ripped out by a grizzly. Doesn't seem so complicated, really. Also, make sure you buy the right kinds of books, or else someone in a cardigan will push you off a building. Again, nothing to worry about: just buy the best kinds of books, not the bad ones, or else you'll be looking over your shoulder pretty much forever. And you can't read that way, anyway, so it all works out.

-DE

midnight poets

"give us a poem!" they shouted from their bench in front of Dosa
turning to look, i recognize the cute guy from a cafe i used to frequest
he'd long since moved on to pursue his "art"
I say "hey" and as he says "hey" back they shout again
"Give us a Poem!!"

I stop, my mind reeling
I couldn't even consider doing this a few months ago
but for some reason i've been devouring poetry lately
so my mind searches
for any bit that stuck
a line or stanza big enough to grasp onto
can't think as the booming voices assault me again
Give. Us. A. Poem!

so i default to the old and known
to recite a bastardized version of Mary Oliver's "Wild Geese"
the only poem commited mostly to memory
there is scattered applause
as they hand me a beer and make space for me to sit down
as i slide onto the bench and crack open the beer they boom
"Give us a song!"

I look up to see who their next victim is
and realize they're looking at me
i laugh, take a long swallow of beer
and smiling back, say
"i know its halloween and all,
but it might be too much of a fright,
'cuz you've never heard me sing"

***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

- Mary Oliver
from Dream Work

***** ***** ***** ***** *****
If you like this poem, the book Dream Work is filled with other great poems Mary has written. This poem also reminds me of a short story by Linda Hogan, called Walking that was publisehed in Parabola magazine and is part of a collection "Sisters of the Earth" edited by Lorraine Anderson.

from the shore

the sand
wet
like a mirror
reflecting
sea stack, sky
we walk for a long time
at the water's edge

where the rocks are
dropped, polished
by sea and sand
some glow like marbles
others egg shaped
smooth and oblong
still others
jagged & rough
not yet finished
by the tides

we walk further on
at the water's edge
where the rocks are
dropped, polished
until the surf comes for us
pushing us, running
onto dry sand
as if to say
take no more of me
you have enough
take no more
of me


*** *** *** *** *** *** ***


walking hands full of pebbles
like when i was a little girl
wanting my hands to be bigger
longing for my mother's pockets
to hold more

i can't pick up another
without giving up one of the
treasures already found

i open my palms
perusing the tiny gifts
searching
maybe there is one
i can give up
leave behind

to fit this new one in

like the little girl
i am troubled by the choice
wishing
wanting for my mother's pockets
for longer fingers, bigger hands

why can't i just hold more i think
stretching my hands to try
several rocks fall away

too much
too far to stretch
too much to fit in
too much to give up

i place the new one back on the sand
pick up the others
closing my hand
walking on

they are enough
they are the extent of my reach
and that's
enough

what makes a really good Saturday

Being home
good friends that love you
being outside
sunny skies and beautiful weather
free ice cream
coffee
dancing
musical trike rides with Stevie, Micheal, Prince and Madonna
and the promise of good times to come

reconciliation

Recently, I spent one of the best weekends I have ever had, with my best friend, Laurie, on a little strip of beach on the Washington coast that we go to every year. Besides always being blown away by the sheer rugged beauty of the place I was astounded by some of the journeys Laurie and I have taken this year to heal the past and live healthy and whole in the present...mostly I was confronted with something I wanted to share with my friends and anyone still reading here - and that is that, regardless of the bumps, bruises, scars we all carry from our pasts, we - she and I, everyone - have so much love inside of us. We all have this power to forgive, to reconcile with those who have hurt us, to rise above, and give up being right long enough to just be with the people who are important to us.

I was reminded of a piece of writing that I first saw right after gulf war v 2.0 started:

I only learned last year,
That I can stop whatever violence
starts with me

I only learned last year
That love is infinitely more
interesting and more exciting and
more powerful than really
winning or really losing a fight

I only learned last year
That all war leads to death and
that all love leads away from death

-June Jordan

swimming under stars

can't sleep
it's like i am still on pacific coast time
the timezone with the seastacks and bald eagles
where the sunsets turn the sky and ocean on fire,
orange mirrorlike water, surrounding rocks covered
seastars, anemones, limpets and mussels, clinging
to life for one more night, for one more day

my face, dry from sun, wind, sand
warms now from the glowing fire
darkness falls, bits of spark float towards sky
leaving orange trails behind them like little comets
the big fat milky way fills its band in the sky
and we feel again like we are very very lucky
and very very small at the same time

my body is too warm by the fire
longing for the chilling cold of the water
toes, then knees
cold, then numb
running in the surf
diving under the tallest wave
coming to surface with a scream
the cold biting my torso and stomach
the beauty, strength of my body in turbulent water
i swim back towards shore
my legs still underwater lose feeling
my arms out in the wind are equally cold
but the middle, still in the frothing water
is strangely warm, my blood shunted to the core
pumping, i feel my heart beat strong and hard in my chest

i am running now on sand, longing for the soft dry towel
and the warmth of the fire
i stretch out next to it
bathing in its warmth, feeling my limbs relax, my heart slow
adrenalin still pumping
i am alive
all i can think is
i am alive
lovingly, beautifully, spectacularly
alive

-----
written 10/14 upon my return from my annual backpacking trip to the Washington coast.