tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24622270270626738312024-03-12T20:21:18.877-07:00A Place for Poems to BreathePoetry and creative writingSofiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03748695640730714741noreply@blogger.comBlogger12125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2462227027062673831.post-9970551170611825072017-02-20T19:42:00.002-08:002017-02-20T20:04:40.153-08:00Testing SeasonI love what I do. Kids are great, interesting, weird, They are filled with potential. Every day is new, Honestly, if I made a little more money and had a lot more respect, I would probably do this forever. In my class, we are at the end of a writing process so we are having our open mic - I bring cocoa and the kids read their work. Maybe for the first time they get hooked on the real thing about writing, which is communication. Telling your truth to someone else. Being heard.<br />
<br />
Right now, despite the joy, I am discouraged. I worry that our push for test scores ignores the humans we are charged to educate. My hubby can attest to the fact that in most weeks there is a time when I am discouraged, overwhelmed and feeling like I might drown. Here, in testing season, tempers are short, patience is stretched and I wonder if what we teachers do is worthwhile.<br />
<br />
Education<br />
<br />
At every turn, there is a wall or worse<br />
a task, given by someone, and didn’t you know <br />
that you had neglected to attend to it properly, because there were rules. <br />
And I -s that needed dotting <br />
that you should have already known about, didn’t you already know? Slacker, <br />
teacher? <br />
Where is your checkpoint, lesson plan, data analysis? Formative <br />
assessment, lesson modification, standard focus, learning goal? Did you complete <br />
the reading inventory, failure predictions,meeting notes? <br />
Teacher?<br />
<br />
Building <br />
the architecture of citizenship. 12-year-olds defend their heart-held beliefs <br />
out loud and in letters and essays and poetry. Memes and <br />
jokes and quotes arrive via student gmail. Dreams <br />
eked out in doorway greetings.<br />
Learning.Sofiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03748695640730714741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2462227027062673831.post-50459474746592849122013-07-28T09:54:00.000-07:002017-02-20T19:15:52.773-08:00Lemonade from Lemons, Hay While the Sun Shines, and Cups Half-Full<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hhkAWw4fL-o/UfVI4LK9ESI/AAAAAAAAAJY/BFp2I5F6hg8/s1600/IMG_3080.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hhkAWw4fL-o/UfVI4LK9ESI/AAAAAAAAAJY/BFp2I5F6hg8/s1600/IMG_3080.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cups definitely <i>more </i>than half full. <br />
Beignets and Cafe in New Orleans</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
My summer winds down, a little more quickly than I might have hoped for (I know I just composed a post about loving summer!). Kids don't start back to school for another month, but I have a string of training to attend. It is all paid for by virtue of a grant, which is wonderful, because contrary to popular belief teachers do not get 'paid for doing nothing' in the summer. What we get is nine and a half months of pay stretched out over twelve months. You all know teachers teach for the love and passion of it- not because we are lazy and want summers off or because we can't do anything else. But I digress...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<h4>
Just Before</h4>
<br />
There is this tremor, this<br />
last gasp of the darkness where everything, even<br />
the warmth leaks out. All that is left is crisp,<br />
empty chill that tells no tales of the past<br />
and gives the future no succor.<br />
<br />
You might feel that it is the beginning of the end -<br />
and yet it is all harbinger and no horror.<br />
<br />
<div>
Just before the sky turns pink.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><h4>
</h4>
<h4>
A spoonful of sugar...</h4>
<br />
Training has sort of an ominous sound - like they are sending us back for re-grooving or something. Professional development is another name for it. That sounds a little better. I love to learn so I get really excited when my job brings me an opportunity that I wouldn't have had otherwise. Earlier this month I got to go to an International Baccalaureate Conference of the Americas in New Orleans. My school is an IB candidate school. They describe themselves this way "(IB) offers four high quality international education programmes to more than one million students in 145 countries." on <a href="http://www.ibo.org/" target="_blank">their website</a>. It is sort of a whole child for the whole world program. I enjoyed the conference, the highlights for me were the spoken word poetry talk by Sarah Kay and Phil Kaye of <a href="http://www.project-voice.net/" target="_blank">Project Voice</a>, and the panel that included school leaders in IB schools that serve children who live in poverty.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-itFIyASz5RQ/UfVJQLX3X1I/AAAAAAAAAJo/HBVY6QeeRH0/s1600/IMG_3092.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-itFIyASz5RQ/UfVJQLX3X1I/AAAAAAAAAJo/HBVY6QeeRH0/s1600/IMG_3092.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ferns and graffiti: Both doing their version of <br />
making hay while the sun shines. <br />
(French Quarter, New Orleans)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Most of what I saw was great. However, when professional development is not done well it reminds us teachers of the powerlessness and and anger that are inevitable when you are in a class with a teacher who has no skills. Good instructors bring energy and thoughtful presentation to class with them and allow their students to engage easily with the subject matter.<br />
<br />
So as I head into four weeks of professional development I am thinking about not only what I will learn that presenters mean to teach but also the things I will learn that they didn't mean to teach. Lessons about honoring my students' interests, their agency, as well as what they already know. If the instructors give me lemons, damn it, I am going to make lemonade!<br />
<br />
<h4>
Untitled</h4>
<br />
Where you have hands<br />
to remove the stone<br />
from your shoe, you will.<br />
<br />
But when your anatomy is mouth, stomach,<br />
heart, intestines, anus, mantle - you<br />
find another way.<br />
<br />
Nacre applied layer by calcified<br />
layer to squelch an irritant.<br />
<br />
When I became mollusk and had<br />
no hands - my pearls grew baroque<br />
like the dank creations of caves.<br />
<br />
<div>
Made in the cover of my mantle with nacre<br />
slick as snot, and mine, all mine.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
</div>
Sofiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03748695640730714741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2462227027062673831.post-21739044156869988552013-07-08T07:08:00.001-07:002013-07-08T07:09:36.939-07:00Summertime... and the livin' is easy.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
As a teacher I am in the privileged position of being eternally young - at least that is how it looks from the vantage of a long vacation. I used to suffer from the sudden lack of something to do when summer began. Sort of a post-work depression and emptiness. As I get older and time speeds up I have let go of that! Make hay while the sun shines as they say.<br />
<br />
And so, with a nod to Raymond Carver...<br />
<a href="https://fbcdn-sphotos-b-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-ash3/561946_10150765953400731_60461365_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-b-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-ash3/561946_10150765953400731_60461365_n.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<br />
<h3>
</h3>
<h3>
</h3>
<h3>
</h3>
<h3>
</h3>
<h3>
</h3>
<h3>
Gravy</h3>
Looking at my tabulations<br />
I feel good. I have a life<br />
of the mind and people<br />
to love. I cook kick-ass food<br />
and take joy in libraries(free fuckin books, ones I never<br />
before read!). I am in love with this striped<br />
shirt from Goodwill fer cheap. And while<br />
<br />
cockroaches and clutter gotta go - my bile<br />
does not rise as I gaze out<br />
across the vista of spring break, early<br />
mornings do not loom large and I<br />
know I will have time<br />
to clear<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
the rotting veg from the fridge -<br />
and wipe clean the names of my nemesi(s).<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Childhood and summer go together. In many essential ways I am still that exact same child. Summer is for childhood and swimming and skinned knees.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xaX-oFtZ56A/UdrABGna7NI/AAAAAAAAAIc/0AqcS6iYZYI/s1600/IMG_3037.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xaX-oFtZ56A/UdrABGna7NI/AAAAAAAAAIc/0AqcS6iYZYI/s1600/IMG_3037.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My son Forest and our friend Erin Graham 'sledding' a dirt hill</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<h3>
A Bruise</h3>
The shinscrapes of my youth<br />
were beloved. Picked over until<br />
they became something worth looking<br />
at - a thin white line - surrounded<br />
by golden, dirt-smudged skin, criss-crossed<br />
by bruises and abrasions.<br />
<br />
I flew<br />
through those summers. Skimming<br />
the hills -<br />
brown, foot-worn trails through green,<br />
glossy salal, frothy huckleberry, shadowed</div>
<div>
by straight ever green.<br />
<br />
Hard rubber wheels on cracked driveways.<br />
A bruise was a badge.<br />
Fresh scabs told a story.<br />
Road rash was to be envied.<br />
<br />
<br />
P.S. Here is a link to read Raymond Carver's poem <a href="http://agenbiteofinwit.com/gravy.html" target="_blank"><i>Gravy</i></a>.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Vi52eC7lg_A/UdrBO5vslHI/AAAAAAAAAIw/wwbvgAQa8hw/s1600/IMG_3041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Vi52eC7lg_A/UdrBO5vslHI/AAAAAAAAAIw/wwbvgAQa8hw/s1600/IMG_3041.JPG" height="351" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Does anything say summer quite like a full-grown man in a kiddie-pool? (Jeff Hoyle)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rdCMj6-CURU/UdrFjGw5ftI/AAAAAAAAAJA/zhoWz_KJ2Ak/s1600/IMG_3046.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rdCMj6-CURU/UdrFjGw5ftI/AAAAAAAAAJA/zhoWz_KJ2Ak/s1600/IMG_3046.JPG" height="400" width="217" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Well, maybe a small child pouring beer on the <br />
head of an unsuspecting harmonica player.<br />
(Doug MacKenzie)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Sofiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03748695640730714741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2462227027062673831.post-31530579336580145762013-06-28T07:20:00.000-07:002013-06-28T07:32:35.364-07:00Anarchist Dictator<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"If I were the impossible anarchist dictator, every freight train would be required to have a passenger car, with no attendants, so anyone could hop on anywhere and ride for free at their own risk." - Ran Prieur</blockquote>
<div>
<br />
I have been a teacher for ten years now, something I never thought to be. I hated school. Truly hated it. I had the second lowest GPA in my junior class. I think that was the year I couldn't even make myself go in and register for classes during the summer because the sound of the bell grated on my sensibilities.<br />
<br />
My ideal world did not include desks, and more importantly, being told what to learn and how to learn it. I believed then, and still do, that kids want to learn. They are interested in their world; they explore and discover naturally. Now, for ten months out of the year I arrange desks and I arrange learning. I tell kids what they need to learn AND how they need to learn it.<br />
<br />
<br />
<h3>
Splat</h3>
I used to rebel-<br />
before these days of cognitive dissonance. I thought<br />
I knew<br />
<div>
<br />
but now the me that reminds<br />
students to take their seats - repeatedly -<br />
is in discord with the rest of me. I am this impossible thing -<br />
this anarchist dictator. I rise up<br />
<div>
to embody </div>
<div>
<br />
what I am not. Rebelling<br />
with one hand and squelching uprisings<br />
with the other. It is easy<br />
to see how Castro got that way.<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(Thank you to my brilliant and dear friend Aimee Day for the quote and the inspiration.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7YlryBGtxow/Uc2NF71WCpI/AAAAAAAAAII/EjeUPLGypoE/s1600/IMG_2894.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7YlryBGtxow/Uc2NF71WCpI/AAAAAAAAAII/EjeUPLGypoE/s1600/IMG_2894.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Angels: Patty Damon- 7th grade Science, DeAnn Broom- Texas History,<br />
and Me - Readin' and Writin'</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
On the other hand, I know some things about kids that I didn't back when I was a kid. I know that they need structure to learn in groups. I know that they need warriors to fight for them. They need adults who are willing to battle with them and for them. That willingness to fight for their education is how they know I care.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I also know that kids who have to deal with the effects of poverty need to have higher expectations set, not lower. If you start out in life behind the curve you have to run faster and longer to get where you want to go. Educators who make excuses for kids are doing them a disservice.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
It is a impossible to sustain the level of outrage and fight needed on your own, especially given the pressures of modern education: testing, funding, bureaucracy, cruelty, group-think, inequity, disinterest... </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
<h3>
Dear Student,</h3>
I want to borrow a quart of outrage<br />
to use when I cannot find it in myself to<br />
stick up for you yet again, when they say<br />
you don't have the support, or the will, they say -<br />
<br />
I need a soupcon of courage to tell you<br />
that you are worth the struggle and that<br />
if you don't pull your head out of your ass<br />
and start acting older than your age, you will never<br />
read above a third grade level.<br />
<br />
I need to borrow will - because I have lost mine<br />
in paperwork and sad eyes and your anger - and it might as well be yours -<br />
<div>
because mine was never enough for the both of us.<br />
<br />
Can you loan me a spine, I need it so I can smile at you<br />
as you walk through my door and I will try to convince you that whatever it is<br />
you are running from will always nip at your heels<br />
until you turn and face it.</div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
Sofiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03748695640730714741noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2462227027062673831.post-60902641485246712732012-08-21T06:42:00.000-07:002012-08-22T16:49:27.397-07:00Dead YoungI am struggling right now with the death of my nephew. He was my first nephew; born when I was 10 years old. I was the youngest in my family, so when he was born it was my first chance to have a baby to love. Derek grew up some; he was 31.<br />
<br />
I feel the distance between my family and myself more sharply than usual. I am so glad they are together right now, but I miss them. I miss Derek. Selfishly, and without reason - I miss him.<br />
<br />
I don't have any art about this yet. There are no words. Derek was a bright spark... He was complicated- and beautiful.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Mw7h3JP1MBk/UDOPORy8XKI/AAAAAAAAAHE/V8RPBKKUGRE/s1600/Derek.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Mw7h3JP1MBk/UDOPORy8XKI/AAAAAAAAAHE/V8RPBKKUGRE/s320/Derek.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Derek and I when we were younger...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
Two years ago our neighbor died. My husband has a knack for befriending. He and Bill became close over the last year or two Bill was alive. Bill, like all of us, was lovable but not easy to love.<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst">
<h4>
My Neighbor</h4>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
1.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He liked to flirt with
me…</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<i>I’d rather give this cabinet to <b>you</b>
than sell </i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dEi_Z-7adFs/UDNylKWLo_I/AAAAAAAAAG4/kx1XtTG1J3w/s1600/Bill.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dEi_Z-7adFs/UDNylKWLo_I/AAAAAAAAAG4/kx1XtTG1J3w/s320/Bill.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bill, with Joe and Georgia before our trip</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<i>it to a bunch of Mexicans. </i>he’d say,<i> My neighbor, he’s a faggot, <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<i>but a helluva nice guy. Good<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<i>neighbor.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Bill had both hands
gripped tight </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
to the wheel of the ‘89
Corvette</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
that he waxed two weeks</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
before. Thin, caved in
chest – </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
out there in shorts, arms
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
moving in circles –
making</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
her shine.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
2.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Sitting in his camp
chair-</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
watching birds eat
crumbs, sores</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
seeping – eyes and nose
running. Slowly</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
smoking that Winston –
bitter ash. Ruminating,</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
family won’t return his
calls. Brother </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
won’t start his
Corvette. He worries</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
about the battery.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
3.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
His mom, Georgia, keeps
him with her. She buys</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
him his favorite foods </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He scared her when he
was young.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Smoked pot and drank.
Sold drugs – </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
one time she found a
big black garbage bag</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
full of weed and –good
Texas mama that she is-</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
threw it out. When he
got home he came at her</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
like he was going to
hit her</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
before running out the
door. He didn’t </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
come back - except for
his first wedding-</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
until Diabetes lost him
his job</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
at the casino.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
4.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
When Georgia shows me
the picture</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
of the wedding she
wonders why he kept</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
the framed photo of him
looking 70’s </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
handsome with Georgia’s
second husband</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
who he hated standing a
little too close</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
behind him like he was
holding a knife to his back.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Now he is kept…. by her.
Out of love – but he</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
is 46- and living at
home.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
5.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
How should we mourn</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
this man. He walked</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
without a cane on
brittle </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
legs falling over and
again</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
he couldn’t allow the
help he needed, </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
until gracefully and</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
without warning he
would accept Joe’s arm</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
as he walked up the
steep driveway. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Joe and I sitting next
to him in his garage</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
watching the slow drift
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
as he falls asleep
sitting up with the cigarette</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
and coffee still in his
hand. At the last possible moment </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Joe reaches out and
touches his chest to keep him </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
from falling over. <i>you’re so good to me</i> Bill said smiling- </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
tender. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
6.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Joe visits him nearly
every day,</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
on good days they talk
cars, bikes, music. Joe</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
knows that Bill needs
to be what he always</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
has been, </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
A man- a cussing
spitting fast-car driving </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
hard-drinking man with time
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
to get soft and misty
eyed</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
later.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
One morning, Bill is
crying </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
and listening to the
songs on the Sunday morning </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
radio. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Amazing Grace and a
country </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
number about walking
through a graveyard. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
His crackling high</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
voice joining in,
whispering then dropping away to nothing</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
while tears ran down
his face</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
like he was a mourner </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
at his own Memorial.
The one he forbids</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
us to have. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Now Joe and I sit
vigil, in our garage</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
two doors down from
Georgia’s. In folding </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
camp chairs, smoking
cigarettes and trying</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
to dislodge our
resentments, the ones</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
we haven’t managed to
work into pearls yet.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Not wanting to end like
Bill but also</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
wanting to snatch back
for him what he couldn't get.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Two months later,
Bill’s brother Bud rings</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
our doorbell. He has a
gift bag in his hands. He says</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<i>It is from Bill. He bought it for you guys back when he <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<i>was watching your cats.</i> <i>Wow, </i>I said</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
stupidly, <i>It’s not every day you get presents from the
dead.</i></div>
Sofiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03748695640730714741noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2462227027062673831.post-2019513219715451392012-08-10T12:24:00.001-07:002012-08-10T12:24:36.703-07:00Relationship with a Capital RThe ironic thing about the Relationship (with a capital R) is that it is the place where you are most likely to run up against your own limitations. No fair! Our culture sells romantic love as a kind of panacea for the aloneness that is inherent to the human condition. Maybe it is partially that, but its essential nature less straightforward.<br />
<br />
It is in relationship that we see the <i>exact </i>ways that we are alone. This first poem is about the disillusionment that happens when you realize love - as you have known it so far - might not be enough.<br />
<br />
<br />
<h3>
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dR6AGP7dCoA/UCVdJIm4QfI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/HBe2H_nU77E/s1600/hummingbird.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dR6AGP7dCoA/UCVdJIm4QfI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/HBe2H_nU77E/s200/hummingbird.jpg" width="200" /></a></h3>
<h3>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Gothic"; mso-fareast-language: JA;">Your Heart</span></h3>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Gothic"; mso-fareast-language: JA;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainTextCxSpFirst">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Gothic"; mso-fareast-language: JA;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainTextCxSpFirst">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Gothic"; mso-fareast-language: JA;">When you give your<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainTextCxSpFirst">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Gothic"; mso-fareast-language: JA;">heart <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainTextCxSpFirst">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Gothic"; mso-fareast-language: JA;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainTextCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Gothic"; mso-fareast-language: JA;">You pretend it
beats <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainTextCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Gothic"; mso-fareast-language: JA;">vibrant and full
of blood- You say<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainTextCxSpMiddle">
<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Gothic"; mso-fareast-language: JA;">take this, it will be a worthy companion<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoPlainTextCxSpMiddle">
<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Gothic"; mso-fareast-language: JA;">to you</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Gothic"; mso-fareast-language: JA;">. Then little by little the hollowness <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainTextCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Gothic"; mso-fareast-language: JA;">and the cracks are
exposed<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainTextCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Gothic"; mso-fareast-language: JA;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainTextCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Gothic"; mso-fareast-language: JA;">The way the thing
skips a beat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainTextCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Gothic"; mso-fareast-language: JA;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainTextCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Gothic"; mso-fareast-language: JA;">You patch it up
Move along, nothing<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainTextCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Gothic"; mso-fareast-language: JA;">to see here.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainTextCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Gothic"; mso-fareast-language: JA;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainTextCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Gothic"; mso-fareast-language: JA;">Then one day<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainTextCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Gothic"; mso-fareast-language: JA;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainTextCxSpLast">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Gothic"; mso-fareast-language: JA;">broken crumpled
moth wings<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainTextCxSpLast">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Gothic"; mso-fareast-language: JA;">tarpaper<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainTextCxSpLast">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Gothic"; mso-fareast-language: JA;">daub - stick, mud
tape<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainTextCxSpLast">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Gothic"; mso-fareast-language: JA;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainTextCxSpLast">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Gothic"; mso-fareast-language: JA;">The crowds gather
stand around and gawk at the thing<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainTextCxSpLast">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Gothic"; mso-fareast-language: JA;">wondering if it
will ever fulfill its former promise.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainTextCxSpLast">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Gothic"; mso-fareast-language: JA;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainTextCxSpLast">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Gothic"; mso-fareast-language: JA;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainTextCxSpLast">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Gothic"; mso-fareast-language: JA;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainTextCxSpLast">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Gothic"; mso-fareast-language: JA;">Sometimes you wish for something less - no matter how flawed it might be. You want to know that you are separate, even from those you love. </span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainTextCxSpLast">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS Gothic"; mso-fareast-language: JA;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainTextCxSpLast">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<h3>
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Csh95-Y4AGA/UCVd1olkWYI/AAAAAAAAAGY/Yzf608zRkIY/s1600/knees+and+mountains.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Csh95-Y4AGA/UCVd1olkWYI/AAAAAAAAAGY/Yzf608zRkIY/s200/knees+and+mountains.jpg" width="200" /></a>In My Daylight</h3>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the thick dark</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
of the front seat</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
of his dented Volvo</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
parked on a dry </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
nighttime riverbed</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
wrapped in Leonard Cohen’s voice</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
beside a man</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ll never know</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
well. Talking</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>the kids<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>from the Elwha tribe<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>used to pull pranks<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>on that bridge. They would
<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>make dummies that
looked<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>real and throw them<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>into the middle <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>of the narrow bridge<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>under front wheels,
screeching<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>to a halt and almost<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>through that guardrail<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>one time.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I will never read</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
him in the dark. It will</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
be over after</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
our first fight. In the dark</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
of the places he grew </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
up, I am not required,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
to fill any holes. <br />
<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /><br />
<br />
Dreams and waking blend together to make reality. Sometimes, you just want to dive in, take an immoderate helping, revel in it, because after all this is where we learn to be ourselves.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-x7tseHpGbik/UCVea-7JLNI/AAAAAAAAAGg/FsstbVG80fA/s1600/peacock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-x7tseHpGbik/UCVea-7JLNI/AAAAAAAAAGg/FsstbVG80fA/s320/peacock.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<h3>
Dim Sum Dream</h3>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dim sum has just been delivered</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
to the table. Round, fleshy steamed buns. Bright green</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
broccoli under dented tin lids. Pot Stickers folded</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
with origami precision. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Woken first by the cats</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
he is – stroking my hair three times</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>pretty, pretty, pretty.</i>
He pulls me close.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I move in, breathe and clasp his thigh.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Clacking wheels of the stainless</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
steel cart make endless rounds.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Steam seeps round the edges</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
trailing.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There is no price I can put on</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
closeness.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
no way to measure moist</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
warmth.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Even as I grow uncomfortable I will not </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
move </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
away. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I will stay with my spine twisted to rest squarely </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
against his chest. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MFylrftgOxc/UCVfIz1V_CI/AAAAAAAAAGo/eKFSMLZzMdE/s1600/swan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MFylrftgOxc/UCVfIz1V_CI/AAAAAAAAAGo/eKFSMLZzMdE/s200/swan.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
He has fallen</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
back to sleep. I am still</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
listening to his breathing.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
slow it comes</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
rapid-fire then stops.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One, two, three. I count the seconds,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
holding my own breath until he </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
breathes again.</div>Sofiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03748695640730714741noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2462227027062673831.post-62313222280387946612012-08-02T18:17:00.000-07:002017-02-20T20:11:36.026-08:00I have a relationship with the moon...<h2>
Childhood</h2>
<i>Lying in the back seat of the car. Watching the moon stand still while the rest of the scenery rushed by.</i><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<h3>
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Other Night Lights</span></h3>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=2462227027062673831" name="_GoBack"></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ax1GOpeR2Vc/UBsQWVPlXII/AAAAAAAAAFI/CA39WfvgXZI/s1600/Dad+and+me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ax1GOpeR2Vc/UBsQWVPlXII/AAAAAAAAAFI/CA39WfvgXZI/s200/Dad+and+me.jpg" width="194" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My dad (who always carried me in<br />
from the car even if I was fake-sleeping)<br />
and me on a road trip to Cali.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Driving
highways late<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">at
night sitting low in the back<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">seat.
The slow arc of a spot-<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">light
in the sky. Searching <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">for
something really important – </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">alien life or missing </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">children.
I </span></span><span style="line-height: 18px;">didn't</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> realize for</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">years
that it might be prosaic. A huge<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">sale
at a used car lot or the opening<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">of
a new supermarket. Really, it was about<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">the
beam slicing like a light saber<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">in
slo mo. Me low in the back<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">seat,
imagining infinity.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<h2>
Adolescence</h2>
<div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CYM-zEJ43fQ/UBsQ3DA5iVI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/q5Wp_3UaHJY/s1600/Dang+Hippies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="136" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CYM-zEJ43fQ/UBsQ3DA5iVI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/q5Wp_3UaHJY/s200/Dang+Hippies.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It is a hippie infestation...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<i>When I was a teenager my friends and I held Full Moon Festivals. As a result the moon became our communion, our gathering point. We were a family; we frolicked, we watched the moon rise and set. Often we would still be there at dawn. I lived at the edge of the Puget Sound. The connection between the moon and the tides is science at its most magical. Our low-lying driveway would flood with the highest of the tides. I cannot tell you how many hours I spent - happy, angry, thoughtful - at the beach.</i><br />
<br /></div>
<div>
<h3>
Current</h3>
</div>
<h4>
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<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
I am going to the water</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-weight: normal;">
don’t follow me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-weight: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-weight: normal;">
Lifting the hatch and riding</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-weight: normal;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4GCXv33kHTQ/UBskm6hJBzI/AAAAAAAAAGA/5O95kkV6nN8/s1600/desert.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4GCXv33kHTQ/UBskm6hJBzI/AAAAAAAAAGA/5O95kkV6nN8/s320/desert.jpg" width="320" /></a>the current, you might see the other</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-weight: normal;">
side of madness – fishes and loaves</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-weight: normal;">
and crystalline shards of goblets ground</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-weight: normal;">
between our teeth melting</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-weight: normal;">
to slink between my toes. Where</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-weight: normal;">
they came from.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-weight: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-weight: normal;">
I am going to the water don’t</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-weight: normal;">
follow me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-weight: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-weight: normal;">
In the foam my toes feel the earth</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-weight: normal;">
move beneath me standing at</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-weight: normal;">
the center of stillness. All of the turns</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-weight: normal;">
I have ever taken are putty</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-weight: normal;">
in foreign hands. Tiny sillicates drift</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-weight: normal;">
glistening from side to side, looking</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-weight: normal;">
for home. But not homing. What you</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-weight: normal;">
think I might be I have never been.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-weight: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-weight: normal;">
Through every ripple I will</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-weight: normal;">
hold you. I am going</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-weight: normal;">
to the water</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-weight: normal;">
do not follow me.<br />
<br /></div>
</h4>
<h2>
Adulthood</h2>
<div>
<i>My relationship with the moon has become complicated, as is true for most things in adult life. Now that I live in a city I sometimes go months without noticing the moon. When we lived in New Mexico the moon was very present. The moon is both the upsurge of passion and the constancy of the tides. In this month of the blue moon - I want to call forth the passion.</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<h2>
Incantation</h2>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Stand with me in this tilting lot</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qrKBu3gaQck/UBshgbE2pwI/AAAAAAAAAFw/2SkUpfo2Uq4/s1600/Joe+Congress.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qrKBu3gaQck/UBshgbE2pwI/AAAAAAAAAFw/2SkUpfo2Uq4/s320/Joe+Congress.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
wet black cement of the just rained.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The sky is orange to the east and</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
deep purple to the west. Look up</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
at the trees and wires filled</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
with mewling Grackles. Barbed</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
wire against the darkening sky. The air</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
chill and damp; I wrap</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
myself.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The way the dark birds move together</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
squid ink sprayed across<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=2462227027062673831" name="_GoBack"></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
the water. And the sound – Alien</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
earthy whispered screams.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
We won’t go inside for ice cream. We</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
shouldn’t be placated by creamy sweetness. Stand
here</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
with me. Rub the rosemary between your fingers.
Look</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
back over your shoulder. It is just enough to be
dangerous.</div>
<br /></div>
Sofiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03748695640730714741noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2462227027062673831.post-30721608749553469732012-07-13T22:44:00.002-07:002012-08-10T12:27:49.285-07:00The Beauty of WomenDedicated to my girlfriends.<br />
<br />
<h4>
Beauty and Advertising</h4>
The expectations we hold about how women should look and how much time, energy, and money it takes to get there are utterly ridiculous. This was true in our society prior to the practice of photoshopping models. Hell, make-up is very similar to Photoshop! Corsets and spanks perform the same function. Please, don't get me wrong, I support a woman's right to pluck, stuff and paint anything that she wants, but advertising is pervasive and insidious. Hats off to the Julia Bluhm for trying to get the editors of Seventeen to stop altering young women's bodies on their pages.<br />
<br />
<br />
Article about Julia Bluhm <br />
<a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/connie-dieken/seventeen-magazine-photoshop_b_1663430.html">http://www.huffingtonpost.com/connie-dieken/seventeen-magazine-photoshop_b_1663430.html</a><br />
<br />
The following is a poem that I wrote that is in response to some of the craziness I see in the young women I know and what I remember from my own adolescence. I am afraid we are letting people who want us to buy things tell us what sexy is, and if you add to that the very human desire for love and attention it can be a toxic mix.<br />
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<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-55_8Mo8-9aE/UAEEry485SI/AAAAAAAAAEw/DfAwiE2lc3g/s1600/5820_1198539209949_3988446_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="235" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-55_8Mo8-9aE/UAEEry485SI/AAAAAAAAAEw/DfAwiE2lc3g/s320/5820_1198539209949_3988446_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rebellion is one way to fight society's expectations</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<h4 class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
It Needs a Fucking...</h4>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Feeling a little bit </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
little girl lost. I want </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
to be dream girl princess be-</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
love-ed. Take me under your wing and tell</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
me everything is going</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
to be ok – like ice cubes</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
plucked from a stainless</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
steel bucket clinking – chinking</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
their virgin squares- into tumblers ready</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
to accept booze – long legs </div>
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up the side</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
of the glass.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Hoping the tiara will fit</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
a girl today</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
kissed on the side of her head in the</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
hall way.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iyIy3EJQ1H4/UAEDOlr8Q_I/AAAAAAAAAEg/dxxY1NKNiDY/s1600/girls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="227" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iyIy3EJQ1H4/UAEDOlr8Q_I/AAAAAAAAAEg/dxxY1NKNiDY/s320/girls.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by Tom Van de Ven</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
-by a boy who she said</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
maybe, you know…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
tell her, she could get in trouble. Plucked</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
pubic hairs – conversely get rid </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
of that plucked chicken look. What describes </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
when something is</div>
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exactly </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
the opposite of what</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
it should be? For most women</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
natural beauty is anything but. Hours</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
spent with glistening images, and the</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
sign on the door says Don’t clean</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
the stainless mirrors in the men’s </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
or women’s restroom. Steam expands </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
to fill available space.</div>
<br />
<h4>
Getting Older</h4>
<br />
I have always celebrated milestone birthdays with a flourish; taken pride in being a woman who welcomes age and wisdom. Forty was difficult though. Somehow, overnight, the quality of my skin changed, my hair thinned and I realized that no matter how much I denied my societies expectations of female beauty they were all within me - time bombs waiting to be set off by the big 4-0. Trite but true. How do you hold on to feeling lovely from the inside out in a world that tells you that all that matters is your outside?<br />
<br />
<br />
<h4>
Like Those Women</h4>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The wind is warm </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
here, but even on lake-days</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
where I am from</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
you shiver inside your towel, the snakes</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
soft and green, surprising your bare</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
toes in the grass.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Women here go for long walks in the hot</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
air, growing brown and lean. Where I am</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
from the women are plump and pink</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
spending days cozy with books. Snakes here</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
are sandy brown and rattle</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
like seed pods. I am easier alone here.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The summer the rains flash</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
suddenly, drenching one hill</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and leaving another chalky with
dust. Where </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am from it mists on firs and stony </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
beaches and swamps for ten months. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
the days are short</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
the sun never shows. Here</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
there are days the sun never leaves completely, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
long hot nights I wear cut-offs</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and tank tops watch the lightning</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
flash on dark hills. Bare my feet on warm rocks in the dark
to feel the sun.</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TbihLaewohc/UAEGQR3eKqI/AAAAAAAAAE4/cgrAjGD5Gu8/s1600/5060_120476420730_7085795_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TbihLaewohc/UAEGQR3eKqI/AAAAAAAAAE4/cgrAjGD5Gu8/s320/5060_120476420730_7085795_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Desert Sunset </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Here the plants flower </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
when they can, leaf when possible. In a dry year</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
the ocotillo flower early - then wait</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
months – for the rain</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
to leaf, verdant </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
alien pipe-cleaners arc from the ground. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Where I am from green</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
crawls</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
round the edge of every square of pavement</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
slinks from dank basements – </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
swallows</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
junk cars in fields.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I walk dry hills and like those women </div>
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">I am growing lean and brown</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<br />
<br />Sofiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03748695640730714741noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2462227027062673831.post-32469578425802142522012-07-06T12:39:00.001-07:002012-08-10T12:28:38.185-07:00Love and Choice<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I met my husband, Joe, years before we started dating; we ran in the same circles. I remember the exact moment when I started falling for him. I worked at The Country Aire, a natural grocery in Port Angeles, Washington. Joe had just returned from a trip to Thailand and at one glance I could see and feel the electricity he brought back with him from that trip. My feelings for him were further confirmed by the twinge I got when a mutual friend talked of setting him up with someone else. The poem below is our wedding poem and tells the story of that 'first meeting'. Perhaps more importantly it tells the story of us choosing one another.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; line-height: normal;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YMfq18J0pYQ/T_cnCj-dGXI/AAAAAAAAADg/o5kdphSIXVE/s1600/IMG_2688.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="200" sca="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YMfq18J0pYQ/T_cnCj-dGXI/AAAAAAAAADg/o5kdphSIXVE/s200/IMG_2688.JPG" width="156" /></span></a></div>
<h4 class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Joseph Elvis Vastano of the Intrepid Heart</span></h4>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">When you leaned in</span></div>
</div>
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">toward me, across the counter</span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; line-height: normal;">
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">and told me</span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; line-height: normal;">
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">you were glad</span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; line-height: normal;">
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">to see </span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">me and I knew</span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">as you walked away, the tips of your curls red-sunshine-gold</span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">that you were.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">That we keep choosing</span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal;">
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">to face one another’s walls-</span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; line-height: normal;">
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">instead of walking out</span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; line-height: normal;">
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">onto the open plains of life lived alone.</span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; line-height: normal;">
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">When I turn around and you are still there, and again, and again- still there.</span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">It is not easy, </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">it is not clean,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">it is gloriously messy.</span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rshqvxVtIXo/T_cpBvvCXMI/AAAAAAAAAD4/a5AQ9mSWf8g/s1600/IMG_2696.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="200" sca="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rshqvxVtIXo/T_cpBvvCXMI/AAAAAAAAAD4/a5AQ9mSWf8g/s200/IMG_2696.JPG" width="165" /></span></a><span style="font-family: inherit;">Like Saguaro. Like rocks on the hillside. Like flood waters in the desert</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I imagine</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">adventures before us- sorrows and joy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Trips across continents and waters. Worlds from</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">the inside-out.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Really though- it is all imagined.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We cannot know what faces us.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">As I face the unknown it is you I want at my side, Joseph</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">of the Intrepid Heart.</span></div>
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Choice</h4>
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Of all of the things I <em>think</em> I know about marriage, it is choice that impresses me the most. While we don't choose to fall in love, or when and certainly not with whom - we do choose to keep love, to do the things that sustain it, and we keep expecting to fall into love yet again. </div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Many of my favorite couples (you know who you are!) are people you wouldn't think would work well together. It is my guess that from the outside Joe and I were an odd match. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span>This man I keep choosing to spend my life with is as willful as I am. The poem that follows is a rant, a declaration. We choose to use our powers for good.</div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">We will not be torn apart by Wrath or Zest or Zeal.</span></h4>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span> </h4>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">We will not be torn apart</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">by passion, rather we will be joined </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">by it. Your water to my fire</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">we make steam – and power the gears</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">and pistons of our own valiant</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">new world. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Our </i>machines will fly</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">like eagles no matter how improbable</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">they seem. Your fish and my lion</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">will splash in the sunlight. We will accelerate</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">into hairpin turns. Your stories will dance the tarantella </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">around my poems then lean in close </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">for whispered truths.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">We will not be torn apart by resentments,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">rather we will hike up our trousers and wade</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">in and part the waters of them. In their wake </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">we will discover sand dollars, snail</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">houses and moon stones. We may not hike</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">to the top of the ridge hand in hand, but surely</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">we will stand there together. Look out at high-</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">country lakes, the ocotillo, the golden eagle hefting</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">from the boulder, the tiny glittering cities.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">We will not be torn apart by passions,<a href="http://www.blogger.com/" name="_GoBack"></a> rather</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">we will uncover them. You bring the dynamite</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">and the blasting caps. I will bring the earplugs</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">and a nice picnic lunch. After the sediment</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">settles we’ll eat bread and cheese and sort</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">our treasure.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-krPmI35npOc/T_c6jwlBJQI/AAAAAAAAAEU/LDVM9m3udOQ/s1600/34742_450098830730_5466964_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" sca="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-krPmI35npOc/T_c6jwlBJQI/AAAAAAAAAEU/LDVM9m3udOQ/s320/34742_450098830730_5466964_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Joe in the tent by a lake in Arizona, with our trusty steed standing by.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Our Future</span></h4>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">While we cannot know our futures -to paraphrase a poet I know- but it is fun to hatch schemes. In an earlier post I talked about my sadness that our son is growing up and moving on. That sadness is truly counter-balanced by the places Joe and I will go and the treasures we will sort.</span></div>
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<br /></div>Sofiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03748695640730714741noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2462227027062673831.post-85813673414595107712012-06-28T08:26:00.001-07:002012-08-10T12:26:18.098-07:00Personal Teaching<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
This is a video I use to introduce myself to students at the beginning of the year. </div>
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"I am From" </div>
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<object class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://0.gvt0.com/vi/wi534_jZLng/0.jpg" height="266" width="320"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/wi534_jZLng&fs=1&source=uds" />
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I never thought that I would be a teacher. I wanted to be an actress, on a stage in New York - trying on other people's lives. Or I thought that I might be a psychologist - another empathetic profession. Or, for a while, I wanted to be a lawyer. I <i>was </i>the lawyer of my family, arguing every point, angling for a lighter sentence for the accused. I thought for a while I wanted to be president, however my dad kindly informed me (when I was a mere pup of 14 or so) that I had already done things that might preclude a run for president. Thanks, Dad.</div>
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I ended up as a teacher largely by accident, and like most of us I hated middle school. Now for nine months of every year I go to middle school five days a week. Crazy. Unexpected. I struggle with the ways that being a middle school teacher shapes me, maybe even changes me. Sometimes I feel like it makes me someone who isn't a lot of fun. Someone who is constantly saying things like, "Pull-up-your-pants. Nobody wants to see that." and, "What <i>should </i>you be doing right now?" I also am a confiscator of "I <3 Booby" bracelets. Wow! How did I get here?</div>
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I know teachers who find ways to integrate themselves and their teaching more fully than I seem to be able to. My husband, Joe, teaches college composition and does great job of bringing himself into the classroom. It allows his students the license to do the same, and to be as engaged as he is in the world of the heart and ideas. The Joe I know and the one that teaches those kids are the same person, excited and exciting - no holds barred. My brother-in-law Scott teaches high school. He and I had an engrossing conversation last summer during a car ride from Seattle to Salem (Scott - Please forgive me if I get some of the details wrong). He teaches at a school that is project based. I had asked him how he prepares for the upcoming year. He described his immersion in the culture of India for the upcoming year's theme. He checked out every book he could find and took out the desks so that students could sit on the floor on cushions. Class started every day with a quiet meditation time. The thing that struck me is that Scott's learning is integral to his teaching. His process makes him more Scott, not less.</div>
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It is summer now and I am reveling in the time I have. I read, I write, I am cooking gorgeous food. I have plenty of time for swimming with my friends, taking care of my physical person... Hell, I have plenty of time to sleep and no alarm clock! I know for those of you who don't have an academic schedule this sounds like an embarrassment of riches... It is and maybe I should just take my lumps; be less me for part of the year and then wallow in my freedom for a few months every summer. Somehow, I think that I am cheating myself and my students if I am content with half measures.</div>
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One career I did want when I was a child was to make a school; one that fosters students' innate curiosity and helps them grow to their best selves. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Secret Spaces 2 Ordrup" height="200" src="http://edu.blogs.com/.a/6a00d83451f00f69e20133f5b56daf970b-500wi" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">School in Denmark with 'private spaces' for children<br />
<a href="http://edu.blogs.com/edublogs/2010/11/ordrup-seven-spaces-of-technology-school-environments-embodied.html">http://edu.blogs.com/edublogs/2010/11/ordrup-seven-spaces-of-technology-school-environments-embodied.html</a>
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I went to a conference last week and one of the presentations gave me a bit of school envy. It was about the design of places of learning. My experience working in public schools in the U.S. reveals that it is difficult to change the paint color; imagine what superintendents would say to a hallway like the one below or to private spaces similar to the cubbies above. Our answer to school reform is testing and 'accountability'. Sigh... There is a lot more that we could and should be doing to <i>re-form</i> our schools.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Big net play structure" height="208" src="http://www.designshare.com/portfolio/project/1/592/yuyu%20no%20mori.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yuyu-no-mori Nursery School in Japan uses a giant net for their 3rd floor hallway<br />
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<a href="http://www.designshare.com/index.php/projects/yuyu-no-mori-nursery/images@4526">http://www.designshare.com/index.php/projects/yuyu-no-mori-nursery/images@4526</a>
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What would the school look like that would allow teachers and students to be their authentic selves? What can I do to make my classroom that place for me and my students?<br />
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...and a poem to close. Students who have disabilities struggle valiantly to fit into the mold of industrialized education. </div>
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Dominic’s hair</h4>
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looks sweaty. When I see him </div>
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in the hall He says <i>Feel
my head. </i>We do not</div>
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touch students, his hair looks greasy<i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
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and damp, like the man in the rubber room</div>
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his eyes are mad and shift. I don’t want to</div>
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touch him </div>
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but I do. His hair is soft,</div>
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downy, dry. Carefully, my fingers</div>
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touch – There is a small bump, an egg.</div>
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Dominic was breaking pencils</div>
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on his head,</div>
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in Seventh Grade Life Science. Nobody</div>
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noticed, except his friends – who</div>
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thought it was funny. </div>
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in the morning before </div>
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school, three weeks ago </div>
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– the superglue</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dominic brought to affix the head of his bacteriophage</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
proved too enticing – again to his friends. They glued</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
together their thumbs and forefingers. In the end</div>
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Joel got it in the eye. I told the principal</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Dominic has
Tourette’s. He is a good kid.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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He is just like the rest of the boys, </div>
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<br /></div>
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skittering toward lunch detention,</div>
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jail or an early grave.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Today I took Dominic</div>
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to meet the tech teacher. On his way out</div>
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<i>Nice to meet you.</i>
He said,<br />
shaking her hand.<br />
Odd, from the mouth of a thirteen-<br />
year-old. Stilted, formal. Just<br />
like the rest of us.</div>
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<br /></div>
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</div>
</div>Sofiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03748695640730714741noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2462227027062673831.post-82631296648059649962012-06-24T08:16:00.001-07:002012-08-02T18:13:56.989-07:00Mothering my BoyParenting is not static. It is a trip you are taken on. From the moment I brought my boy home I knew I was in over my head, but I have never before or since been so happy to be out of my depth.<br />
<br />
This first poem was written when my son was growing out of the toddler years. It was my attempt to claim our trials as triumph. It is also a rallying cry for parents, an ode to the important work we do.<br />
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<br />
<h4>
My Work Supersedes the GNP</h4>
<br />
My work enfolds me<br />
heart and sinew<br />
brain and marrow<br />
It is my job, it is my work.<br />
It is next to me in my dreams.<br />
Moves with me while I dance<br />
late, to the blues in smoky bars.<br />
When I drive down the coast<br />
my work sits in the co-pilot seat.<br />
Right this minute my job kneels beside me<br />
hungry and demanding. My job<br />
is my throbbing skull<br />
is my empty pockets.<br />
<br />
The tools of my trade<br />
are sidewalk chalk<br />
and fairy whispers. Kisses<br />
and Star Wars Band-Aids.<br />
<br />
I make heroes from cell division.<br />
<br />
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</span></div>
<br />
Now my boy has grown and I am in awe. I look back at the evolution of our love. He has grown to be someone I am very proud to call my son, but I recognize that so much of who he is has nothing to do with me. I am finding that there is a lot of push-pull in having an almost grown child. My stars are re-aligning, right along with his.<br />
<h4>
</h4>
<h4>
Celestial Shift</h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-w0zcMCY_Z4U/T-YzqR6WEiI/AAAAAAAAAB8/-0frofE0-dg/s1600/Forest+&+Sofie+Out+on+the+Town.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-w0zcMCY_Z4U/T-YzqR6WEiI/AAAAAAAAAB8/-0frofE0-dg/s320/Forest+&+Sofie+Out+on+the+Town.JPG" width="320" /></a>New born. Soft </div>
<div>
cheeks, blistered lip - the world</div>
<div>
arrested on its axis.</div>
<div>
Some children </div>
<div>
phase us because </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
of the deep hurt in</div>
<div>
them and the ways</div>
<div>
they are pain in the world. When</div>
<div>
I was pregnant I read</div>
<div>
grisly midwives-tales:</div>
<div>
Some babies are born at odds</div>
<div>
in the world and find no ease</div>
<div>
at home. For ten lunar months</div>
<div>
I obsessed</div>
<div>
about babies in the wrong place. What I </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
gave birth to was not. If there was</div>
<div>
one thing about my boy it was</div>
<div>
luminous alien-baby beauty, if there</div>
<div>
was one thing it was how easily we fit - first</div>
<div>
child - only. Eighteen</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
years. We cruise through morning</div>
<div>
kitchen rituals. Long car rides</div>
<div>
lead to insights about the old familiar</div>
<div>
at our elbow. I am preparing for this</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Celestial Shift. When this stalwart</div>
<div>
of my heart moves away.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><b>P.S. This took me a long time to post because some of the words (which looked fine in compose mode) would appear highlighted in white in the preview mode. I fixed it by re-typing the poems, so it appears to be a formatting issue. If anyone has any insight about how to fix or avoid the problem I would appreciate tips!</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div>Sofiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03748695640730714741noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2462227027062673831.post-49902358270890662272012-06-23T13:53:00.000-07:002012-06-23T13:53:28.033-07:00What am I doing?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
I write poems, arguably the most esoteric form of the written word (though code might have poetry beat). Writing is communication. When you write in your journal you are communicating with your own soul - or whatever you call it. As soon as you leave that format writing is meant to communicate to the souls of others.<br />
<br />
My fingers are crossed, I hope that this place will help me communicate.<br />
<br />
I am a teacher. I teach middle school. I like middle school kids. They are funny and interested in the world. They also have poor impulse control. It makes for interesting days... I am a mother, I have learned and grown more from raising one child than I have from any other undertaking.<br />
<br />
In every beginning there is a hope. I hope...Sofiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03748695640730714741noreply@blogger.com2