Napowrimo 16/30: Chromophore

Chromophore Dear one, its a still humid night my hair clings to the back of my neck until an errant breeze momentarily cools my skin and I think of you propped in your netted bed, your carmine-tipped hands fluttering over a canvas or penning a letter of love to your man with green-gold eyes. Your pitted, scarred body wrought with pain but you offered yourself fully, unselfconciously and he saw only the strong woman you are, the steel that encases your moist beating heart that is his. Despite the ache of bone and muscle, your spirit moves light, color, space. … Continue reading Napowrimo 16/30: Chromophore

What is most important

For my Diego the silent life giver of worlds, what is most important is the nonillusion. morning breaks, the friendly reds, the big blues, hands full of leaves, noisy birds, fingers in the hair, pigeons’ nests a rare understanding of human struggle simplicity of the senseless song the folly of the wind in my heart = don’t let them rhyme girl = sweet xocolatl [chocolate] of ancient Mexico, storm in the blood that comes in through the mouth — convulsion, omen, laughter and sheer teeth needles of pearl, for some gift on a seventh of July, I ask for it, … Continue reading What is most important

Dirt Mamma

This weekend I found a letter from my aunt that she wrote me in 2003. I have no memory of it so it was like reading it for the first time. At the time she was in Hot Springs, Arkansas with her husband, my mom and dad, and my other aunt on vacation. The three women are (were) sisters. In it she described a little about the hotel, their stay and various activities. She described an incident in a hot tub where my mom became nauseous. It was surreal, reading this as if it just happened, with my mom being dead for … Continue reading Dirt Mamma