Saturday, August 16, 2008

"Blood Moon, II"

Blood Moon, II

Blood moon over Little Washington
across from Wine Hill, beside
the Big Branch now a stream
a foot across, Mexican music
lilts through the screens, a cumbia,
the unmistakable blare of Mexican
brass. Crickets in the thickets
reverberate, frogs commence
to sing, the black bull lows.
The air, the same temperature
and feel of breath, is heavy
with the smell of horse.
From here
the Blue Ridge opens. The mass
on the horizon darkens down
from the mornings turquoise blush.
Over the rolling green the countryside
unfolds like a letter I've yet to write.
What lies beyond "God's bear factory"
remains unread. A rustling in the future,
a furtive slide through the branches,
into the hollows of my life. My life,
this odd juxtaposition of Mexican
brass and black bull, of greenly
blush and hot steed, the throaty
call of a dying breed, the single
joining in the chorus under eclipse.
Historic and actual. Real as the ghosts
of slaves, the haunting thumps of drum.
Fictional as treaties, lineage, or love,
to some, rendered better as story
or song, absent the fact.
a shadow covers this moon,
as someone's life eclipses, another's closes.
As I open out of a shadow, the great mass
on the horizon darkens into a dream.
And I walk.


Labels: , ,

Thursday, August 14, 2008

Fare Thee Well

Fare Thee Well

By the Indigo Girls

fare thee well my bright star
I watched your taillights blaze into nothingness
but you were long gone before I ever got to you
before you blazed past this address
and now I think of having loved and having lost
you never know what it's like to never love
who can say what's better and my heart's become the cost
a mere token of a brighter jewel sent from up above

fare thee well my bright star
the vanity of youth, the color of your eyes
maybe if I'd fanned the blazing fire of your day to day
or if I'd been older I'd been wise
too thick the heat of those long summer evenings
for a cool evening I began to yearn
but you could only feed upon the things which feed a fire
waiting to see if I would burn

fare thee well my bright star
it was a brief brilliant miracle dive
that which I looked up to and I clung to for dear life
had to burn itself up just to make itself alive
And I caught you then in your moment of glory
your last dramatic scene against a night sky stage
with a memory so clear that it's as if you're still before me
my once in a lifetime star of an age

so fare thee well my bright star
last night the tongues of fire circled me around
this strange season of pain will come to pass
when the healing hands of autumn cool me down

from Swamp Ophelia
Indigo Girls

Just singing. And healing. And thinking of you.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008



Only your hands can
change me, saturating my
interstices: gem.

Come and make me light,
opaline before your field
of olivine eyes.

Sway me with your hands,
with a naked sliding home,
fast in the fissure.

Naked before you
I become your hands, your mouth,
this molding, this here.

How many patterns
form this landscape? How many
rivers coming now?

Forged in memory,
the final crystal, final
rainbow — beginning

again. Still water.
A kissing vapor. Your voice.
What are these colors?

What do we read in
these ancient hieroglyphics?
A metamorphing

underground. All hearts
on deck. This sensuous sea
agrees with your eyes.

The great uplifting
begins, an upheaval, rock,
new land of your nude

marble, veins exposed,
fistfuls of cummingtonite;
a naked new world.


Labels: , ,

Wednesday, August 06, 2008



888, this says to me. I like the six in the middle. My day. My lucky number. 54 today. Born '54. 9 squared?

What do these numbers mean to you? Do you do these numbers? I know people who do live by numbers alone, and I don't mean materially. Although, in a sense, we are all just numbers, the sum of our parts, quanta of our doings - and goings. Numbers.

I like these numbers. 8. That's good, no? Someone once told me I was a 6 - when lived gloriously in my full name. Otherwise, I think I was a nine. Like in the i-ching. 6. That change.

Today, I live longer than my mother ever did. I notice this all today, at 11:11.

Saturday, August 02, 2008

Join me In SF Tonight - Cafe Boheme, 6pm, 8/2 - PODER/Eric Quezada Benefit Reading, Fernando Marti Art Show

Fernando Martí art exhibit closing night reception and fundraiser for
Eric Quezada for Supervisor, with music, poetry, and open mike.

Café La Boheme, 3318 24th Street , across from BART
Saturday, August 2, 2008, 6 pm

Música y Poesia, featuring:
Lorna Dee Cervantes, author of DRIVE: The First Quartet,
James Tracy, author of Sparks and Codes,
Raymundo Sanchez,
Alfonso Texidor,
Una Flor, Un Canto, y Una Poesia (Nancy, Elizabeth and Mario Esteva),
and Fernando Martí.

Plus – it’s a fundraiser: I will split all proceeds from any of my art and chapbooks sold at the La Boheme show with two of my favorite things happening in the Mission: PODER ( and the Eric Quezada campaign (


Amazon Honor System Click Here to Pay Learn More
$223,693,000,000 The Most Expensive Impeachment In History!
Cost of the War in Iraq
To see more details, click here.
Radical Women of Color Bloggers
Join | List | Previous | Next | Random | Previous 5 | Next 5 | Skip Previous | Skip Next