Friday, September 7, 2012

Small and wordless

Part 1

I wait in between and perplexed
and try to imagine the rest
and try to imagine what's next
and try to heap coals off this chest
as hummingbirds leap off the nest
 and fasten themselves to my vest.
An hourglass pours out the time
an hourglass flipped on it's side
and hourglass pouring out grain.
My fire reflects in my rain
the fire-rain collects in my brain
and Earth absorbs both like a drain
as here on The Floor I remain
as here on the floor I abstain
as here (just for now) I remain.


Part 2
She is scooped out and hollow
smooth, pale and light
like a fire would glow
from beneath her, behind
like lightening could strike her head
and cause her fingers to give off sparks
and you would watch and have to blink.

Tuesday, September 4, 2012


 (Pre-Script: The first part of my Pepper Spray adventure, simply titled "MACE"  was posted three posts ago, so if you feel like it, I recommend scrolling down and reading that post, then returning to read this post.  I will patiently wait here while you do that...)
Now that I have a pepper spray canister with which to run, I am learning the proper code of ethics while running with an obvious can of Pepper Spray in your hand.  (obvious because of the word MACE written down the strap on the outside of my hand in red, for instance.) By "I am learning," I really mean that I am making them up as I go along, based on my own ideas and the facial expressions of other people on the trail at the same time as me and my Pepper Spray. Before I had the pepper spray, I was on a semi-lazy mission to say "Hi" or "Good Morning" and smile from beneath my sun protective baseball cap to anyone I encountered on the trail.  By greeting people in such a way, I was (so I told myself) brightening their morning, possibly saying the one nice thing they heard all day, while simultaneously demonstrating that I was a person who was Aware Of Her Surroundings, probably more so than you would have guessed, what with my headphones and sunglasses on,  and was therefore not a very good candidate for victim hood on that particular morning. 
     Now that I run with "an armed weapon," as my husband says, I think that the best technique is to say "Good Morning" but leave out the smile.  Because to smile while obviously holding a small canister with a strap that very clearly in bold red letters had the word "MACE" written down it would look insane.  The message I am now conveying when I say "Good Morning" without a smile is that yes, I know I am carrying a canister of Pepper Spray, and yes, I am aware of my surroundings even with these technological trappings surrounding my head, but I have no intention to harm you, I still wish you well. Only this matter of running out in the wilderness is serious business, 'cause we've all heard the stories of the girl, and the mountain lion, and the stalker hiding out in the bushes, and the fill in the blank you name it, we have all heard that story, including me, so therefore I am packing heat, but in an obvious manner like I have nothing to hide, because I have nothing to hide, truly, I am not angry at the world, generally, but I am not unaware of it's schemes, sadly, and will only use my weapon of choice if I am so provoked as to need to use it, reluctantly. 
     I think this is a good strategy.
   Today on the trail, there was a young woman walking with her dog.  He was cute, but he definitely looked like he had at least part pit bull in him, and I am sure that the woman is used to her dog's appearance inciting fear in those around her.  I noticed that she said "Good Morning" to me in an almost reverent, guarded tone as I ran past her; it only occurred to me after I had passed her and her dog to remember that I was sporting the "MACE" strap.  And I thought, "I bet people are afraid of her dog; I bet she thinks that if she doesn't appear friendly that I might spray the dog."   but I had no intention of spraying the dog.  Or anyone else, for that matter.  Her dog seemed happy and peaceful and all like, "just going on a walk with my lady, nothing to see here, arf arf," and I respect those qualities in a dog. 

Saturday, September 1, 2012

Man Wired

Men like their wires.  
They sometimes keep whole boxes full of them, chords and wires of different thicknesses and a variety of colors, for they could potentially belong to different devices and work in different ways.  
A woman need not mess with this tangle.  
I think my husband is just happy knowing that his wires exist and that he owns them.  Far be it from me to get in the way of that.  Suddenly we'll be sitting here and the movie will sound a little bit louder or like a real life experience, and I hadn't even noticed it or noticed that it had previously not been quite so loud and lifelike, until he mentions it to me, like my whole movie watching and music listening experience has just been super enhanced, my ability to enjoy it has been amplified, but I didn't even notice, until he says "doesn't that sound SO GREAT?"  and I had no idea, but it's cuz he did something stealth and manly with his box of wires, connected this speaker to that component or somesuch thing, and now he is way happier.  But I'm the kind of girl who's just as happy with 36" as I am with 53",   flat screen or non flat screen, and I think as long as I can hear the dialogue, it's good enough for me, I don't actually have to feel the vibrations of the car driving behind the person on screen as if the car was going to jump out of the TV and run me over while I sit here peacefully on my own couch in my very own living room to enjoy the movie.  But far be it from me to point that out to my wire happy spouse.  I think most men are happy as long as they have a chance to play around with and change up the wires every now and then.  So I let him have his way with that and don't dare ever touch his box of wires.  I'm happy to make the popcorn and follow along with the plot.  I'm happy when it all gets resolved in the end, like so many wires in a closed up box somewhere in the dusty closet waiting for  the perfect opportunity to serve.