I am not my body…

Animation

A Deck of Pornographic Playing Cards

We were ten or eleven, my friend and I,
when we found them up under a bridge,
on top of a beam where pigeons were resting.
Someone had carefully hidden them there.
On each was a black-and-white photo,
no two cards alike. We grew quiet and older,
young men on our haunches, staring at
what we feared might be the future.
The pigeons flapped back to their roosts,
rustling and cooing. The river gurgled
as it slipped from the bridge’s cool shadow.
There were women with big muzzled dogs,
women with bottles and broom handles.
Stallions stood over the bodies of others.
The women smiled and licked their lips
with tongues like thorns. We grew old.
We were two old men with stiff legs
and sad hearts. We had wanted to laugh
but we couldn’t. We had thought we were boys,
come there to throw stones at the pigeons,
but we were already dying inside.
Ted Kooser
in Weather Central

 

SteppingOutClothes12-18

Jeanne Poland in 2019

 

I am not my body

but holy outrage too

passionate beliefs-

that straddle the universe

golden light –

from my third eye to the tip of my toes

divinity-

that renders me eternal and able to transform

my body is a humble servant-

loyal for generations and sculpted by my tribe

Jeanne Marie Margaret DeLoca  Sr Virginia Mary of Christ  Poland  Smith

 

4/22/19

quicksilver

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Heaven

cherry blossoms renew

The Vibrant Channeled Creator

Pieces of Heaven Pieces of Heaven

Little corners like this, pieces of Heaven
left lying around, can be picked up and saved.
People won’t even see that you have them,
they are so light and easy to hide.

Later in the day you can act like the others.
You can shake your head. You can frown.

(William Stafford in The Way It Is)

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Definition #187Laughter

Just came home from a Highlights Foundation Workshop where we read Lisa Mueller’s Poems!

The Vibrant Channeled Creator

phoenix_by_sandara-d4o2ewx

What a language it is, the laughter of women,

high-flying and subversive.

Long before law and scripture

we heard the laughter, we understood freedom.

The last stanza of Lisel Mueller’s Poem: “The Laughter of Women”

locked in rage: put down?

imagine trust: laugh  at strength:

fly through faith, trust, love!

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busy bees

BeesRestingbyWalter

“bees resting by water” posted by Walter Koessler

 

bees get to rest on Sunday

sleep covered with pollen

(like some fairy dust)

bees get a round bed

so they can cuddle

head to toe

 

I know

because I’ve been injected with bee venom

for the arthritis in my knees;

 

so I’m practically one of them;

except I am highly allergic to a bee sting

and go into shock!

 

I just don’t want a fellow bee to die

because he lost his stinger,

and his work ethic.

 

I’d rather have him

resting on Sunday

and cuddling with me

under some fairy dust!

 

 

Easter Eggs 2014

Five years ago when the grands were 5 years younger and finding an empty egg was glorious!

The Vibrant Channeled Creator

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“The Owl Arranging all of the Night”

Whoooo me?

The Vibrant Channeled Creator

tribe13The Owl Arranging All of the Night: A title by Mark Strand

Here I am arranging the night.
You will never see; it’s my burrow
in the desert.

Wee burrow, wee owl,
giant diggers
huge dreams.

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zuccini

zuc

zucchini

zucchini
does a belly dance
a limbo too

then stretches on the lawn chair
to roast its greening skin

gingerly placing garlic
and parmesan bits
to spice the bites that sneak up close
with sea salt sprinkles perched

her dances wet the appetite
the sun rays warm the bone
the spices make saliva pour
into zucchini’s cone.

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