Get Thee To A Nunnery in Yosemite

The photographer’s narrative

stirs the soul,

and there is a deep connection

with the artist, and

the landscape: strewn with trees,

smooth boulders,

and the kinds of clouds which

look painted by an

immortal custodian, who also

wants the viewer to understand

why so many have boldly gone

and lost themselves in the forests.

Trees can’t say anything

stupid. A stream has never

uttered an ignorant comment.

Bugs are always trying to better

themselves. Not even once has a

leaf been passive aggressive.

The mountains are calling,

and they certainly must

have something more worthwhile

to say than hungover coworkers

or the lobotomized newscasters

on the network station.


Where is My Mind?

Some days it’s just too much

to live out these years in this

borrowed mom body,

saggy, aching, sleepy, grumpy

slumpy, rough, sometimes blind

and falling apart,

when it wants to spend countless hours

strolling through museums,

curled up on picnic blankets, reading Bronte

again and again, or simply talking

into the earliest hours about art and

good writing instead of sitting on these

bloody highways, making sure there are snacks

for sports practice, making meal plans

and dreaming of old boyfriends

Or maybe that quiet night at a jazz club

a million years ago.

Instead these wrinkles are worn like a

badge, proud earned.

Even the dreamiest recesses of the mind

know that these days of childhood

are fleeting.

They’ll end too soon.

And even though there might be time

to go and gym and put on makeup,

these carpool confessionals,

and midnight bedtime rituals,

are becoming much less plentiful.

So the dreams of the jazz club

and a restful evening

can wait.

Requesting Re-entry

It’s been a million miles, at least

the thin blue line

of pen I’ve used

to write everything about you.

I’ve stretched to Jupiter and back,

coiled around the earth

with a ball point so slender

that it seems like the planet

is wrapped in twine

and I’m just trying

to tether you to my page

before you leave the orbit

of my mind forever,

and I run out of air.