Post- Bindu
Sat Nam. I thought I'd try to put into words what life is like for me after selling the yoga school.
I've been doing a lot of:
reading
writing
babysitting
walking
yoga
and eating.
I've been having a pretty good time.
But I miss you.
So I have an invitation for you:
I'm thinking of a summer solstice and s'mores gathering, like we did in the good ol' days. On the 21st of June, any time you can , join me. I'll be by a fire pit at Cabrillo Beach, ready to light a fire and roast marshmallows. jump in and out of waves, and perhaps lead a written- in- sand sunset wish list. We can write with sticks, fingertips, or feet our intentions for summer - things to get and things to give. Join me, please!
The 21st is a Wednesday. I'll go down early and grab a pit. Come have a morning swim with me, lunch, bring a book or magazine you've been saving up for a special loungy day. Let's catch up, have a satsang. I want to know what you've been up to and how your practice is going. I want to set up lunch dates, walking dates, and game dates.
Are you in?
Let me know. The s'mores are on me!
May the longtime sun shine upon you...
Rosie
Wednesday, May 31, 2017
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
Day 9: Hamlet Whips Up a Smoothie
To blend, or not to blend, that is the question-
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to chop
The bananas and avocados of outrageous nutrition
Or to take arms against a sea of cashews,
And by opposing crush them? To pulse, to self-clean
No more; and by a sleep, to say we shred
The heart-ache, and the thousand natural whips
That flesh is heir to? 'Tis a consomee
devoutely to be creamed. To die, to liquefy,
To beat, perchance to dream; Aye, there's the kale,
For in that high or low speed what drinks may come,
When we have shut off this mortal switch,
Must give up pause. There's the soymilk
That makes calamity of so long life:
For who would bear the grates and grinds of time
The cherry's pit, the melon's rind,
The pangs of the pineapple's skin, the lime's puree,
The insolence of garlic, and the spurns
That patient merit of the spirulina takes,
When he himself might his quiets make
With a dull kitchen knife? Who would these fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary blender,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovered mangosteen, from whose membrane
No traveler returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have,
Than fly to others that we know not of.
Thus conscience does make smoothies of us all,
And thus the native hue of carrots
Is sicklied o'er, with the pale cast of parsnips,
And entreprises of great pitch and moment,
With this regard their currants too dry,
And lose the name of fruit. Soft you now,
The fair Ophelia. Nymph, in all thy orisons
be thou all my shakes remembered.
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to chop
The bananas and avocados of outrageous nutrition
Or to take arms against a sea of cashews,
And by opposing crush them? To pulse, to self-clean
No more; and by a sleep, to say we shred
The heart-ache, and the thousand natural whips
That flesh is heir to? 'Tis a consomee
devoutely to be creamed. To die, to liquefy,
To beat, perchance to dream; Aye, there's the kale,
For in that high or low speed what drinks may come,
When we have shut off this mortal switch,
Must give up pause. There's the soymilk
That makes calamity of so long life:
For who would bear the grates and grinds of time
The cherry's pit, the melon's rind,
The pangs of the pineapple's skin, the lime's puree,
The insolence of garlic, and the spurns
That patient merit of the spirulina takes,
When he himself might his quiets make
With a dull kitchen knife? Who would these fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary blender,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovered mangosteen, from whose membrane
No traveler returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have,
Than fly to others that we know not of.
Thus conscience does make smoothies of us all,
And thus the native hue of carrots
Is sicklied o'er, with the pale cast of parsnips,
And entreprises of great pitch and moment,
With this regard their currants too dry,
And lose the name of fruit. Soft you now,
The fair Ophelia. Nymph, in all thy orisons
be thou all my shakes remembered.
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
Day 8: Small Scenes From the Lives of the people Who Go On
"But then one winter's night an old beggar woman came to the castle and offered him a single rose in return for shelter from the bitter cold." beauty and the Beast
A Child
"the last petal fell," said the little girl, when the last petal fell,
with such a petal softness, a wavelength more than a breath,
vapor disappearing across the page of Beauty and the Beast.
A Wife
She crumbled, shattered before me.
All I could do was promise her - One day you will stop crumbling.
Sunrises will be glorious just before you remember your dead are gone.
Sunsets will be acid on your skin-
That might remain.
A Son
He hugged me with caution, with care,
so as not to wake the sleeping beast of his pain.
We admired his poster of Cher by the back door.
He smiled and let some leaves fall.
All I could say was I'm sorry. That and the thing about the crumbling.
A Child
"the last petal fell," said the little girl, when the last petal fell,
with such a petal softness, a wavelength more than a breath,
vapor disappearing across the page of Beauty and the Beast.
A Wife
She crumbled, shattered before me.
All I could do was promise her - One day you will stop crumbling.
Sunrises will be glorious just before you remember your dead are gone.
Sunsets will be acid on your skin-
That might remain.
A Son
He hugged me with caution, with care,
so as not to wake the sleeping beast of his pain.
We admired his poster of Cher by the back door.
He smiled and let some leaves fall.
All I could say was I'm sorry. That and the thing about the crumbling.
Monday, April 7, 2014
Day 7: For R. and E.
Every desert twilight the woman hikes the hillside
and gathers the skins of the dead.
This is where the balloons land lightly,
having surrendered their last breath
She sprinkles a handful along the winding labyrinth
each skin a reminder of every child's hand which held on as long as it could
each a flower petal along the balloon pyre
the hot desert ground
the dreamcatcher
and gathers the skins of the dead.
This is where the balloons land lightly,
having surrendered their last breath
She sprinkles a handful along the winding labyrinth
each skin a reminder of every child's hand which held on as long as it could
each a flower petal along the balloon pyre
the hot desert ground
the dreamcatcher
Saturday, April 5, 2014
Day 5: Nursery Rhyme
The bar stunk of people encrusted to their bar seats. Humpty
Hump sang something stupid and everyone began to bounce. A girl dumped tea
on her date because he wouldn't let her have another drink. I sat
on the edge of the pool table until someone said don't sit
on that. "I brought you here to teach you about life," my dad said in a
slurry mess. "Just have a look around. Read the lines on the wall."
The graffiti, he must have meant. I did. I didn't get it. Hum...pity
I never got my dad, either. Dumb pity
is all I had for him. But he was the only parent I had.
And the story goes he wasn't my real dad. He dated my mom when a
truck ran her down, and there was no one else around. A great
man, my teacher said, until my grades began to fall.
That's when we began home schooling. "All
you need to know about life is learned by living it. The
teachers know only what they were taught to teach you, but the kings
and queens of the world learned by living. School is for breaking horses.
This is your classroom." He opened his arms wide and
spun around the bar. "Everything is your classroom. All
the world. All the world's a stage. Remember? The
guy who said that? Elvis. He had no schooling and he was the king of kings.
And when it comes to men (I was fourteen)...when it comes to men-
You'll learn right here in the world what you couldn't
ever learn there, but that's for later. Right now put
your head on straight and your eyes on clear." Another Humpty
song came on and we danced together.
I'll never be this young again.
Hump sang something stupid and everyone began to bounce. A girl dumped tea
on her date because he wouldn't let her have another drink. I sat
on the edge of the pool table until someone said don't sit
on that. "I brought you here to teach you about life," my dad said in a
slurry mess. "Just have a look around. Read the lines on the wall."
The graffiti, he must have meant. I did. I didn't get it. Hum...pity
I never got my dad, either. Dumb pity
is all I had for him. But he was the only parent I had.
And the story goes he wasn't my real dad. He dated my mom when a
truck ran her down, and there was no one else around. A great
man, my teacher said, until my grades began to fall.
That's when we began home schooling. "All
you need to know about life is learned by living it. The
teachers know only what they were taught to teach you, but the kings
and queens of the world learned by living. School is for breaking horses.
This is your classroom." He opened his arms wide and
spun around the bar. "Everything is your classroom. All
the world. All the world's a stage. Remember? The
guy who said that? Elvis. He had no schooling and he was the king of kings.
And when it comes to men (I was fourteen)...when it comes to men-
You'll learn right here in the world what you couldn't
ever learn there, but that's for later. Right now put
your head on straight and your eyes on clear." Another Humpty
song came on and we danced together.
I'll never be this young again.
Thursday, April 3, 2014
Day 3: Rand
Christmas Vacation, early 70's.
Father Randy gave communion in our garage. I knelt and look up into the easy smiling face of the angel priest, the keeper of secrets, the giver of kindness, the kindergartener.
Forgotten Month, early 70's.
Randy called. He was finally home from eye surgery. My deep chasm of loneliness overflowed with joy. It took nine seconds from hanging up the phone to knocking on his door - I counted. He stood in his pajamas and tender smile. His eye was so blood red it scared me. I made an excuse and took the long walk home and cried. I cried because I couldn't look at him.
Summer, mid 70's.
The day of his grandpa's funeral they brought him over to swim with me. He was at that age where he was too old to cry and too young for funerals. We swam, propped our elbows on the edge of the pool and talked, and swam some more. I asked him about Papu. He answered from the heart. I don't remember the words.
Summer, early 80's.
The four of us ruled the Mary Star Fiesta, as usual.
Summer, early 80's
Catalina. I was a hormonal mess. I shouted, "I don't want to have to babysit him the whole week!" THOSE words I remember. Why did it have to be those words? I have never forgiven myself.
Summer, mid 80's.
Fiesta time. I'm standing with his sister and two of mine. Randy introduces his girlfriend to everyone but me. Revenge is sweet. But I thought Randy was sweeter than that. Maybe he had just - - forgotten me.
Winter, early 2000's.
His dad died. I walk into the funeral home and feel a tap on my shoulder. I know that easy, thoughtful face. It breaks my heart. I open my arms for communion.
Spring, mid 2000's.
I see him at my parents' 50th anniversary dinner. We share awkward pauses and conversation. I miss our effortlessness. I have forgotten our words. I remember thinking: Tell him you love him and always will. Tell him you wish to spend time together, to not be forgotten. Invite him over. We don't have to talk. We can just dunk our heads and swim.
Father Randy gave communion in our garage. I knelt and look up into the easy smiling face of the angel priest, the keeper of secrets, the giver of kindness, the kindergartener.
Forgotten Month, early 70's.
Randy called. He was finally home from eye surgery. My deep chasm of loneliness overflowed with joy. It took nine seconds from hanging up the phone to knocking on his door - I counted. He stood in his pajamas and tender smile. His eye was so blood red it scared me. I made an excuse and took the long walk home and cried. I cried because I couldn't look at him.
Summer, mid 70's.
The day of his grandpa's funeral they brought him over to swim with me. He was at that age where he was too old to cry and too young for funerals. We swam, propped our elbows on the edge of the pool and talked, and swam some more. I asked him about Papu. He answered from the heart. I don't remember the words.
Summer, early 80's.
The four of us ruled the Mary Star Fiesta, as usual.
Summer, early 80's
Catalina. I was a hormonal mess. I shouted, "I don't want to have to babysit him the whole week!" THOSE words I remember. Why did it have to be those words? I have never forgiven myself.
Summer, mid 80's.
Fiesta time. I'm standing with his sister and two of mine. Randy introduces his girlfriend to everyone but me. Revenge is sweet. But I thought Randy was sweeter than that. Maybe he had just - - forgotten me.
Winter, early 2000's.
His dad died. I walk into the funeral home and feel a tap on my shoulder. I know that easy, thoughtful face. It breaks my heart. I open my arms for communion.
Spring, mid 2000's.
I see him at my parents' 50th anniversary dinner. We share awkward pauses and conversation. I miss our effortlessness. I have forgotten our words. I remember thinking: Tell him you love him and always will. Tell him you wish to spend time together, to not be forgotten. Invite him over. We don't have to talk. We can just dunk our heads and swim.
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
NaPoWriMo 2014 Day 1: Ron
Ron
Just lacing the roller skates was foreboding. I took the strand of one lace and the shred of the other and tied them together and sealed them with spit. The metal wheels were dinged and nicked by the lives of the three sisters who wore them before me. They rattled my presence as I came barreling down the hill on eight wheels of death to Ron's house.
He stood on the hillside, wrapped in bougainvillea, listening for the perfect metal scraping sidewalk moment , and threw a baseball bat at my head.
I caught it! Miracle! And lifted it high in my upstretched arms like a rifle or a trophy. My eyes and mouth froze into huge O's. Ron cheered and clapped as I raced on down the hill, up his driveway, and crashed on his front lawn, still holding the bat high I don't know why.
"You caught it! You caught it!" He was leaning out over the edge hanging onto a vine of fuscia flowers.
"You threw a bat at my head! You coulda killed me!" I got my wheels back under me and dumped the bat on a pile of tears.
"Yeah but you caught it! That was righteous!"
There once was a boy who wrapped himself in bougainvillea for me. Together we were prickly, scratchy, and magnificent in the sunshine.
A year later I told him those flowers spoke to me, and he believed me. After my family moved away his dad cut them down to reveal a graveyard of lost balls forgotten by time. Our friendship is a deep root buried there.
On the map it's a straight skateable line from my house to his.
In reality there are so many canyons to cross.
Just lacing the roller skates was foreboding. I took the strand of one lace and the shred of the other and tied them together and sealed them with spit. The metal wheels were dinged and nicked by the lives of the three sisters who wore them before me. They rattled my presence as I came barreling down the hill on eight wheels of death to Ron's house.
He stood on the hillside, wrapped in bougainvillea, listening for the perfect metal scraping sidewalk moment , and threw a baseball bat at my head.
I caught it! Miracle! And lifted it high in my upstretched arms like a rifle or a trophy. My eyes and mouth froze into huge O's. Ron cheered and clapped as I raced on down the hill, up his driveway, and crashed on his front lawn, still holding the bat high I don't know why.
"You caught it! You caught it!" He was leaning out over the edge hanging onto a vine of fuscia flowers.
"You threw a bat at my head! You coulda killed me!" I got my wheels back under me and dumped the bat on a pile of tears.
"Yeah but you caught it! That was righteous!"
There once was a boy who wrapped himself in bougainvillea for me. Together we were prickly, scratchy, and magnificent in the sunshine.
A year later I told him those flowers spoke to me, and he believed me. After my family moved away his dad cut them down to reveal a graveyard of lost balls forgotten by time. Our friendship is a deep root buried there.
On the map it's a straight skateable line from my house to his.
In reality there are so many canyons to cross.
Saturday, October 19, 2013
Prayer of Saint No One
Lord, your love blows through me like it's trying to get to someone else.
I have hatred.
I have been injured.
I have doubt.
I am in despair.
I have darkness.
I have sadness.
Oh Divine Master, grant that I may be consoled,
that I be understood, that I may be loved.
Give to me that which I wish to receive:
that I may have what it takes to forgive
so that I may have peace in eternal life.
I have hatred.
I have been injured.
I have doubt.
I am in despair.
I have darkness.
I have sadness.
Oh Divine Master, grant that I may be consoled,
that I be understood, that I may be loved.
Give to me that which I wish to receive:
that I may have what it takes to forgive
so that I may have peace in eternal life.
Tuesday, October 8, 2013
Saturday, October 5, 2013
October 4; Stream of Consciousness
In the dream monstrous chairs rolled down from the roof and smashed the people below.
Some ran down the hill, where the chairs picked up speed and flattened them.
I went up the hill and around the corner, where I heard a man yell 'this is the end of the world'.
But in the dream we were warned. A voice said soon the chairs would fall on us and there would be no survivors.
We didn't listen. I went on washing windows.
What will you do when the world ends? Put things in order. Say goodbye. Panic.
All I want is to be with you so I can make you laugh.
We can recite movie lines. There might be time for a crossword puzzle.
Maybe the safest place for us is close in, under the roof, where we can watch the world fall upon the world.
Meanwhile, in awake time, I look up and see three bees scooting around the tangerine tree.
It's hot out.
Who sits in those chairs?
Is this another dream about God's cheap shots?
First came a warning no one heeded.
It's 2:02 and I'm still dreaming about the dream.
And being with you until the end of time.
We have been warned about the bees.
They aren't buzzing around things genetically modified.
We have been warned about the ice caps.
Theses chairs - are they the seats of science?
Day three of the government shutdown.
My life hasn't changed. But anytime something can fall on us. I live by a steep cliff which drops to the rugged ocean.Jagged. Bone splitting. Would I ever make the decision that jumping off would be better than what waits for me on land?
Now there are five bees.
I think these are the last bees in Southern California, so I'm not effected.
Why was I washing the windows?
I wasn't much of a girl scout.
Two birds are actually frolicking now outside my window among the bees in the tangerine tree.
This world is something.
There was a chair for Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva. For the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit. For my husband, my daughter, and me. Yes. they were ours. Why not? It was my dream. And we were coming in glory to...
Live a glorious life.
Movie quotes. crossword puzzles. Yes.
Some ran down the hill, where the chairs picked up speed and flattened them.
I went up the hill and around the corner, where I heard a man yell 'this is the end of the world'.
But in the dream we were warned. A voice said soon the chairs would fall on us and there would be no survivors.
We didn't listen. I went on washing windows.
What will you do when the world ends? Put things in order. Say goodbye. Panic.
All I want is to be with you so I can make you laugh.
We can recite movie lines. There might be time for a crossword puzzle.
Maybe the safest place for us is close in, under the roof, where we can watch the world fall upon the world.
Meanwhile, in awake time, I look up and see three bees scooting around the tangerine tree.
It's hot out.
Who sits in those chairs?
Is this another dream about God's cheap shots?
First came a warning no one heeded.
It's 2:02 and I'm still dreaming about the dream.
And being with you until the end of time.
We have been warned about the bees.
They aren't buzzing around things genetically modified.
We have been warned about the ice caps.
Theses chairs - are they the seats of science?
Day three of the government shutdown.
My life hasn't changed. But anytime something can fall on us. I live by a steep cliff which drops to the rugged ocean.Jagged. Bone splitting. Would I ever make the decision that jumping off would be better than what waits for me on land?
Now there are five bees.
I think these are the last bees in Southern California, so I'm not effected.
Why was I washing the windows?
I wasn't much of a girl scout.
Two birds are actually frolicking now outside my window among the bees in the tangerine tree.
This world is something.
There was a chair for Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva. For the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit. For my husband, my daughter, and me. Yes. they were ours. Why not? It was my dream. And we were coming in glory to...
Live a glorious life.
Movie quotes. crossword puzzles. Yes.
Thursday, October 3, 2013
October 3 Fearing God
The one who gold leafs the leaves and lets the red leaf fall
and the red bird who flies like a flame in the sky
met above the green ocean
See this...I will paint it heavy silver with a heavy hand
when all is finished scaling.
Must everything dry to scales asked red bird,
the gold leaves crumbled in his hand.
Red bird, with her last flicker of brave
turned south on the wind of a sequined wave.
and the red bird who flies like a flame in the sky
met above the green ocean
See this...I will paint it heavy silver with a heavy hand
when all is finished scaling.
Must everything dry to scales asked red bird,
the gold leaves crumbled in his hand.
Red bird, with her last flicker of brave
turned south on the wind of a sequined wave.
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
October 2: Morning Meditation
I sat across from Resentment
close enough to feel his breathlessness
close enough to hold his hand and pick
splintered jaw from his fingernails.
Throat muck rose to the tip of my tongue
Swallow, he said.
Swallow, he said again, slower.
Why, was my small reply.
And a thousand petals fell in his open mouth and eyes.
Why is all you had to say, he said, and he was dead.
Why is all I had to say, I stood and walked away.
close enough to feel his breathlessness
close enough to hold his hand and pick
splintered jaw from his fingernails.
Throat muck rose to the tip of my tongue
Swallow, he said.
Swallow, he said again, slower.
Why, was my small reply.
And a thousand petals fell in his open mouth and eyes.
Why is all you had to say, he said, and he was dead.
Why is all I had to say, I stood and walked away.
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
October 1st
Good Morning, and Happy October! After being fortunate enough to share a brief conversation with David Lehman, the editor of the latest Oxford Anthology of American Poetry, and after hearing he wrote a poem a day for five years, I decided to give a poem a day for ONE MONTH another go. Isn't it wonderful how we inspire each other? Maybe my humble poems will inspire you in some way. Maybe they will inspire you to never visit Udnib again, but please let that not be so! Here is October 1: Rain
still between soft body breaths
your back to me
over your shoulder, between the blinds
I can see
the grey rain from our bed
still between soft body breaths
your back to me
over your shoulder, between the blinds
I can see
the grey rain from our bed
Monday, April 29, 2013
Last One
"Life isn't a support system for art. It's the other way around." Stephen King
April didn't shower
though I waited for her to.
I close up my uncloseable
book of poems
and give them to you.
April didn't shower
though I waited for her to.
I close up my uncloseable
book of poems
and give them to you.
Over My Head
I was driving in the blue black night of 2 or 3. It was just the insomniac mockingbird, you, and me. You were pushing a barbecue grill up the hill. I was at the stoplight, standing still, with the window rolled down, and the bird was singing car alarms. We stared into each others' eyes and dreamed about each others' arms, when with great surprise you whispered I still love Shel Silverstein. You frightened me, your brave coming clean. I frowned and drove away. But rounding the corner I thought of how I once loved you. I almost turned to back to help you load the grill onto the back of my truck bed. Instead, with luck I remembered I'm done driving you around. Instead I realized you were the same alien I had found three years back. You wouldn't have respected me if I had turned back and called, Jack, let me help you load the grill into the back. Alien life understands the sanctuary of the vehicle. Your once alien threecycle I thought was so strange was all you had and loved in this world. Everything else you had left behind in the other, with your Superman comics and your father and mother. Anyway...
I didn't turn back. The mockingbird attacked my windshield, sealed, thankfully, well. I don't understand much. But I always got Mother Goose. And I, too, still love Shel.
I didn't turn back. The mockingbird attacked my windshield, sealed, thankfully, well. I don't understand much. But I always got Mother Goose. And I, too, still love Shel.
Sunday, April 28, 2013
Waiting
My rosebush blushes pink rosebuds
The tangerines entice
Tomatoes are turning tomato hued
The rosemary smells nice
Beside it candy apple amaryllis
cups its velvet coated leather soft skin
Our garden isn't much to look at from the street
but rich red from within
Red wing birds shake the habitat
from their feathers and flutter, flying away
I feel shiny like a sequin on this
blue and silver sequin shiny day.
I'm waiting for the liilies now
and their cheery cherry passion faces
to bloom against the frontyard fence
and other wormy, sluggy, slippery places.
I'm waiting for the broom swept bougainvillea papers
fuscia like a sunset
to be pushed in a pile on the pink pavers
My garden is like a fresh wrapped roll of assorted Life Savers.
I'm waiting by the door for spingsummer's sweet views
I'm waiting for my life saver, my cafe latte ginger headed you.
The tangerines entice
Tomatoes are turning tomato hued
The rosemary smells nice
Beside it candy apple amaryllis
cups its velvet coated leather soft skin
Our garden isn't much to look at from the street
but rich red from within
Red wing birds shake the habitat
from their feathers and flutter, flying away
I feel shiny like a sequin on this
blue and silver sequin shiny day.
I'm waiting for the liilies now
and their cheery cherry passion faces
to bloom against the frontyard fence
and other wormy, sluggy, slippery places.
I'm waiting for the broom swept bougainvillea papers
fuscia like a sunset
to be pushed in a pile on the pink pavers
My garden is like a fresh wrapped roll of assorted Life Savers.
I'm waiting by the door for spingsummer's sweet views
I'm waiting for my life saver, my cafe latte ginger headed you.
Saturday, April 27, 2013
Erasure: New Year's Day Journal Entry
(Erasure is a form where you black out words or blocks of words, either intentionally or at random. It often exposes new thoughts and ideas. I read an article about how the FBI does this often when it leaks files to the media. The purpose of it is to entice the reader! What's missing here? It hypes up the interest in the person as a "bad guy". I ask for your patience in reading mine. I blacked out words at random, sometimes slicing words into fragments. I especially like"...Smokey, remind er in a her resilience.", "..all thos were so wo ful." I hope you like it. I hope you're out there.)
2013 New Year Joul
It's 7:29 this New Morning, and Happy New Year!
watched Beast of the at Cyn ith Kath, Annie, Gulguin,
ri. What a great and all thos were so wo ful. I
see that movie with Smokey, remind er in a
her resilience, her abi
amazing love for her dad, and the dad remind of
ways. One made me sad, like when he did ered with her at
the moment, and I thought of with Daddy and she
wanted me to tie her shoes. wanted them
retied and after five times I and And she was
crying and looking at me through the wi ned aro
there was her brown, tear stained face her awa
came back in she jumped off her aw
I thought of that. And the ot needed to get away, and
saw that from her perspective in the
movie. But the love they had for each other and he loved her
and took best way he could. Afterward, after the movie, I
came went 8 or 8:30. We sat outside
guys and for the new year. Then
we down and it was beautiful.
were round and deep on the know it. So, there
the prayers we said together. Then we the ords and
came. Walt and I had chocolate pudding ced King
of Queens and kissed at midnight. Then we went to was out. he
still is. Happy. It was great. I took down the there is
always a touch of tal sadness in doing that. But having
Christma of the new year. I can go to Pi get a
few cheap in different sizes for
deconstruct would be nice there, or clear
vase of eights. Right now the last mas red is
there, ttia we had on the fireplace. , at 9:30 its sun
salutes s, and then a 12 read before I
don't care. a great time as a friend and
equal and a beautif there was supposed to
be rain. wish them a happy ne
too, Walt to see a movie me tonight.
2013 New Year Joul
It's 7:29 this New Morning, and Happy New Year!
watched Beast of the at Cyn ith Kath, Annie, Gulguin,
ri. What a great and all thos were so wo ful. I
see that movie with Smokey, remind er in a
her resilience, her abi
amazing love for her dad, and the dad remind of
ways. One made me sad, like when he did ered with her at
the moment, and I thought of with Daddy and she
wanted me to tie her shoes. wanted them
retied and after five times I and And she was
crying and looking at me through the wi ned aro
there was her brown, tear stained face her awa
came back in she jumped off her aw
I thought of that. And the ot needed to get away, and
saw that from her perspective in the
movie. But the love they had for each other and he loved her
and took best way he could. Afterward, after the movie, I
came went 8 or 8:30. We sat outside
guys and for the new year. Then
we down and it was beautiful.
were round and deep on the know it. So, there
the prayers we said together. Then we the ords and
came. Walt and I had chocolate pudding ced King
of Queens and kissed at midnight. Then we went to was out. he
still is. Happy. It was great. I took down the there is
always a touch of tal sadness in doing that. But having
Christma of the new year. I can go to Pi get a
few cheap in different sizes for
deconstruct would be nice there, or clear
vase of eights. Right now the last mas red is
there, ttia we had on the fireplace. , at 9:30 its sun
salutes s, and then a 12 read before I
don't care. a great time as a friend and
equal and a beautif there was supposed to
be rain. wish them a happy ne
too, Walt to see a movie me tonight.
Friday, April 26, 2013
Erasure: Tejaobindu Upanishad Verses 1-6
----on the shining Self
Changeless, underlying the world of----
and realized in the heart of-----
---- reach is the supreme goal of life
Hard to des------hard to abide in
They alone attain samadhi----
Mastered their senses and----
Free from self will and ----
Without selfish bonds to----
They alone attain samadhi who are
Prepared to face challenge----
In the three stages of meditation.
-----illumined teacher's guidance
-------with the Lord of Love
-------is present everywhere.
Changeless, underlying the world of----
and realized in the heart of-----
---- reach is the supreme goal of life
Hard to des------hard to abide in
They alone attain samadhi----
Mastered their senses and----
Free from self will and ----
Without selfish bonds to----
They alone attain samadhi who are
Prepared to face challenge----
In the three stages of meditation.
-----illumined teacher's guidance
-------with the Lord of Love
-------is present everywhere.
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Oh April 30, Please Come!
Rosie Good went down the street
to get an ice-cream sandwich
Rosie tripped and cut her lip
and came home with a bandage.
Rosie's husband opened the door
and looked oh so upset
He took poor Rosie in his arms
and said, Don't cry, my pet.
Does it hurt really bad
said Rosie's dad, who immediately rushed over
No,I'm O.K. said Rose O'Day (for that
is what he called her).
Rosie sat down on the couch
and filled her mouth with chocolate
but with every bit she bit her lip
and stained the brand new carpet.
Rosie's husband was quite ilked
with all the new housekeeping
and laundering and bandaging
and cleaning up the bleeding.
He threw a fit, said This is it
and stormed into the bedroom
Rosie's dad was awfully glad
You shouldn't have married that baffoon.
Rosie yelled Dad, he's just mad
and dad yelled right back at her
You should have married that other one
the one that was quite fatter
But I love this one, Rosie said
and I will love him forever
He came out of the room and tripped on the broom
and threw on his cashmere sweater.
I'm going out
Rosie husband shout-
ed and left in a hurry
Rosie's dad thought that's too bad
as he saw her eyes go blury.
As you can tell if you've come this far
our Rosie is quite over
with writing a poem for thirty days
the month is getting slower.
Her lip repaired, her husband home
her father finally leaving
This has all been just a tale-
though a dumb one - she was weaving.
Please April 30, oh please come
Let this challenge be through
I'm completely disheartened
and fully convinced
my poetry days are through.
to get an ice-cream sandwich
Rosie tripped and cut her lip
and came home with a bandage.
Rosie's husband opened the door
and looked oh so upset
He took poor Rosie in his arms
and said, Don't cry, my pet.
Does it hurt really bad
said Rosie's dad, who immediately rushed over
No,I'm O.K. said Rose O'Day (for that
is what he called her).
Rosie sat down on the couch
and filled her mouth with chocolate
but with every bit she bit her lip
and stained the brand new carpet.
Rosie's husband was quite ilked
with all the new housekeeping
and laundering and bandaging
and cleaning up the bleeding.
He threw a fit, said This is it
and stormed into the bedroom
Rosie's dad was awfully glad
You shouldn't have married that baffoon.
Rosie yelled Dad, he's just mad
and dad yelled right back at her
You should have married that other one
the one that was quite fatter
But I love this one, Rosie said
and I will love him forever
He came out of the room and tripped on the broom
and threw on his cashmere sweater.
I'm going out
Rosie husband shout-
ed and left in a hurry
Rosie's dad thought that's too bad
as he saw her eyes go blury.
As you can tell if you've come this far
our Rosie is quite over
with writing a poem for thirty days
the month is getting slower.
Her lip repaired, her husband home
her father finally leaving
This has all been just a tale-
though a dumb one - she was weaving.
Please April 30, oh please come
Let this challenge be through
I'm completely disheartened
and fully convinced
my poetry days are through.
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