Ocean’s breath for Stephen and Lorca

green how I love you green:
the tint of my faerie wings in
gossamer’d foamy ocean love
whispering to the gypsy moon above:

I hear him calling me from that foamy wide?
familiarly around my waist his laced fingers slide
so perfectly willing and thrilling my soul
green goddess beauty in love made wholly

free in silver flight, misfit hazy skimming
across that ocean’s breath this starry night ~

green how I love you green,
the silver blue green mingling of the sea,
phosphorus currents mixing magically
igniting imagination’s fire, your eyes shining

free in desire, poet’s hazy dreaming
upon that ocean’s breath this starry poem is agreeing~

with that green fading into blue, silver laced melancholy
falling ~ I hear your ocean’d breathy voice calling

and we’re closer…

closer to that green.



http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Federico_Garc%C3%ADa_Lorca

It's not flying, it's falling with style. . .

I've been thinking alot about falling lately. Or failing, because its something we *all* do and some of us do it more gracefully than others. It's been really easy to teach my daughter to succeed. She set foot on this planet intrisically motivated to do well, and doesn't mind hard work-- so she usually does succeed.

But we all have "one of those days" and teaching her navigate such is well, a little different.

She had one of those days a few weeks ago.

We were at a practice archery meet, same as any other meet and for some reason on this night she couldn't hit the side of a barn, much less the target. I wondered was it nerves? Her bow? Her arrows? Did she suddenly get the equivalent of the shanks? hmmmmm...

So, knowing she would be unhappy with her performance, I got her to the car and let it spill. After she got out her initial upset I determined that her weight had been loosened at practice to work on grouping and and and we didn't know what else?

The last thing I wanted was to assign blame, because really there isn't any, and never is. Bad days happen and will. So I told her all I know to do was tighten the bow back to where she'd shot well before and go from there....to pick herself up and we would practice some at home.

And then something wonderful happened. Jennifer Lawrence fell down at the 2013 Oscars. Now granted I'm sure that wasn't a happy place for Ms. Lawrence, but timing for me as a parent couldn't have been better. Jennifer is the face of Katniss, the Hunger Games heroine, and much to mine and my daughter's horror we discovered she can be clumsy just like us. The falling was AWFUL, what she did afterwards was amazing.

Jennifer Lawrence knows how to fall. She knows how to laugh it off and keep moving forward, and hopefully learn something from the experience.

Long story short tightning Savv's bow helped her find her aiming point again, and her confidence. But more than that I've noticed a huge change in how she approaches her passion. She knows the comfort of messing up and each time she has a flight now, I *see* her relax.

And that is a different page out of a silver linings playbook.

nessun dorma

nobody sleeps anymore

have you noticed?
even those with all the right reasons
wrestle with it each and every night
unable to settle their days
their seasons….
with reason that used to make sleeping people

feel all is right with their world….

nobody sleeps…

the moon even stays out during the days now?

how odd? what she is hiding inside….

shining mostly during the hours

so late….so humbling when you’re wide

awake silently walking the floors

seeing houses stilled dark all around you

wondering if within them…wondering if

there’s someone…

someone noticing….

nobody sleeps…

not in these hours. In dormant day’s end

there’s anonymity perfected in faces illuminated
with other lives….other worlds….other

sides of selves we’d rather not show in the light

of days….so now so lucidly we may create

authentic selves without the mask …yet screened

in bits of encrypted illusion….

we ask ourselves why?

nobody sleeps?

America Sings

America sings

I’ve heard America singing



The gandydancers swinging so low

Folkstreaming visions of work

Now outsourced to a machine

That hums so white but low still



I’ve heard America singing



That poet’s barbaric yawp

Carrying me Home

Celebrating self songs of accomplished visions

While a Native Laureate’s flags unfurl in a river flowing West to Oklahoma



I’ve heard America singing



The pulpit’s amens looking down on

Colorblocked angels who come after me,

Shoulder to shoulder but divided still

In segregated harmonies



I’ve heard America singing



Eyes turned flagward

Before the game…

Mumbled uncertainty of tomorrow’s

Choked on words hard to forget…



Here’s what I hear:



America’s face now in a book

Dancers, poets, underground preachers…players

Each sweet with a prophet’s vision’s babel

Towering cacophony, all talking at once



Listening I wonder am I the only one

Who Heard America's Singing?



Before there were vampires...

About a year ago I started having these weird Zombie dreams that puzzled me and (quite frankly) freaked me out more than just a little bit.  In a world inundated by vampires I kept asking myself, what's the deal with zombies who seemed to synchronistically be lurking around every corner in my cosmos.  After writing about it, talking about and just letting the dream simmer a little while, I decided to confront whatever subconscious issues I may or may not have with Zombies.  As a result I'm on a quest to view as many Zombie movies as I can stomach and chronicle them here:

The movie that started it all was Zombieland.

And I have to admit, it will probably always be my favorite.  I don't know if it was the stream of consciousness likeability of all the characters nicknamed by their hometowns, the holy grail quest for fresh twinkies or the truly useful 30 rules of survival, but sometimes during an apocalypse the only thing you CAN do is laugh when all the tears are gone.  That's universal, and probably list worthy.  Add the element of abandoned amusement park spelunking (zombie clown appearance notwithstanding) and you've got the odd elements of more nightmare fodder and sheer freakish delight.  Rating: 9/10 digits. (sorry I couldn't resist)

Zombieland was followed by a string of zombie don'ts including but not limited to:  AAAH! Zombies!  (supposedly told from the pov of zombies who incidentally do NOT have brains--enough said, not digit worthy at all!) Then there was The Crazies (the remake I was not crazy about) and several other "so bad they're supposed to be good" B zombie movies that were really ....just....bad that I was truly about to despair.

Then I met Abraham Lincoln versus Zombies.  Now this was *supposed* to be the summer of Abraham Lincoln Vampire Hunter, but really aren't we all tired of vampires?  Do we really have to hunt more? Can't Bella and Edward and their vampire spawn just fade into our collective consciousness? I think they can and Abe convinced me of that!  The Lincoln plagued by Zombies is a direct to dvd mockbuster made by my good friends at The Asylum.  I'm actually kindof an Asylum fan because they excel at B movies making them almost an art form.  I'll tell you truly, this movie makes you wonder about sitings of "modern day" zombies jacked up on bath salts.  The movie has a plot, twists history, has decent acting and most of all the zombie makeup is fantastic.  It's another well deserved 9/10.

Coming soon....a zombie love story, oh my!  My review of Warm Bodies...



The space  above will be reserved for additions to my zombie movie collection. (Yes the Romero ones will be among them.)  Until then the following links are for the non-believers out there:

Modern Day Zombies:

The CDC has a Zombies 101 preparedness page.  My advice? Check out Columbus' 30 rules as well.

CDC's "official" reassurance there is no *known* virus causing people to be zombies.

Bath Salts? Really?  hmmmmmmmm

Zombies in History: (I'll resist posting a list of past presidents, rulers and the like here)

The top three zombie outbreaks in history.

Zombies, A Living History from The History Channel.

Zombies in Nature:

There's a fungus among us

Zombie Ants, yep they're real

Oh, and before I forget.....sweet dreams!



Death on a Pale Horse

ryder on a storm

death on a pale horse
whistled through my line of vision
a ryder on a stormy mission seeking
a slowly ripening image
of a numinous gathering storm
as I leafed beyond pages not well worn…

falling back to the middle I pondered…where are the other
three in apocalyptic allegories -- persuasion perverted?
am I missing some veiled trinity: grim gated, worried
in this prison on this palette?

And then I see the clockwise motion of the time suggested,
backwards in illusion where all the details
reek of realities obscured ~ seems
everything in this world's barren or inverted?

And so I search the darkened
varnished painted words suggested by
the suicide? The candlegrease and alcohol
all fat over the lean, reap the wanderer who
calls upon us all whether fair or mean?

Where is the justice in that?
are we all perverted lean layered over fat?
foolhardy temptation of a life half-lived
in desperation of a peace that’s never quite realized?

never lived?


Albert Pinkham Ryder "Death on a Pale Horse"

Sand Bucket List

Some people have ants in their pants, well I think I have sand... and always will. No matter how far "north" I've ventured in living I have sand in my shoes, in the bottom of my suitcase...and if I don't have it I'm thinking of it, like a little grain of sand always rolling back home towards my Gulf.  Sometimes, I'll be honest that makes me a little frustrated because there's so much sand in the world I'd like to wiggle my toes in.  So, as this pirate looks at her mid 40's approaching with a disturbing gallop, perhaps it's time to compile another list....a Sand Bucket list.  It's kindof like the leap list, but nitty grittier...

Tulum is one of my first sandy buckets.  I visited there several years ago while on a Mexican Cruise and felt instant de ja vous.... more eeriness...more delicious why?  The Mayan ruins there are amazing, but even moreso is view of the Gulf from the cliffs of this once thriving port.  Looking out to sea from the cliffs, I remembered being 11, reading any and everything and finding fascination in an old National Geographic that featured Tulum.  I couldn't wait to get back to the library and connect the dots, and sure enough it was there.  I want to revisit Tulum sometime, knowing what I know and feel 11 again...

Another sandy place calling me is the Southern part of England with what I've romantically envisioned in rows of welcoming beach huts and mystical fossil coasts  to explore.  The thing I love about England is its coastal diversity and being able to slip back in time for a moment imagining Victorian promenades and a gentler time than what we have now.  It's a place I love for many reasons and a home.

The amusement park junkie in me also has Coney Island on her list.  But it's not just that part of Coney I crave, it's the quirky nostalgia.  I'll be honest, I could google "best beaches" in any search engine and would find pristine beauty.  I don't want that...I KNOW that. I want the energy these places have.  I think Coney Island would be most fun during their annual Mermaid Parade, because I am a mermaid afterall, and these people make Mardi Gras seem boring!

My next beach is really a set of beaches AND I have plans to visit them in 2014.  It's Hawaii.  I grew up listening to my dad tell me of his adventures in Oahu when he ran away to join the Navy at 15.  I always loved his Hula Girl tattoo on his arm and imagine I may get a tattoo while there myself? I think that would be an amazing celebration of his energy and spirit that I'm so thankful is still going strong at 83.

My dad's tattoo is true Sailor Jerry old school style.  A funny story my dad tells about getting his tattoo is that since Sailor Jerry was booked, he opted for Gentle Tom...after telling this he always pauses and says, "he lied" with a smile on his face.  There's alot of that sand that comes from my dad.

Honestly, I plan on putting allkinds of sand in my sandbucket, from Outerbanks sand, to Welsh coasts with ruins much like my beloved Tulum keeping a watchful eye.  There's familiarity on a beach, no matter where in the world you go.  We all number as grains of sand on a beach, rolling together becoming less and more at the same time.  I look forward to every grain I collect, and who I collect with.

My Sandbucket List: (updated 5/13)

Tulum, Mexico
Southern England
More Northern England and Wales
Ireland
Coney Island
Hawaiian Islands
Puerto Rico
Northern California Coast / Pacific Coast Highway / Pacific Northwest including hikes : Hole in the Wall, Cape Falcon Trail, Angel's Rest (Mount Hood), Lava Canyon (Mount St. Helen's), Hoh Rainforest
Sedona
Nepal Trek, something like this : http://www.nychoagies.com/events/82831502/?eventId=82831502&action=detail