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the miracle is not to walk on water but to walk on earth – Zen Master Lin chi
Tag Archives: morgan
I am pleased to inform you that Poised In Flight is now out! The print edition is available for purchase through Amazon.com ($7.50 plus s&h), : http://www.kindofahurricanepress.com/. Just click on the “bookstore” page link in the main header.
And while you’re there, be sure to check out our other upcoming anthology themes and deadlines. We are doing seven this year!
editor, Kind of a Hurricane Press
In the almost tallest tree, Morgan’s birds wait.
sky near full blue but for clouds come from all the way westtangled up with sea shape breezes tasting salty even here.
yellow wasps angry buzzing in but rarely back out the kitchen windows
maybe unable to remember it’s only august and wild apples by the dozen still lay strewn along the back garden.
rugosa roses stretch up the stone of this house
where through the last while of the day
sun hits strongest.
sometimes my own fingers search out along those warm textures as if
attempting to discover something they need to know until
I must say thank you right out loud with out even figuring out who to.
in the almost tallest tree, Morgan’s birds wait.
they have time to be patient, preening, cackling, shifting branches
occasionally engaged in soft arguments,
remind me of some vague song until
like a shipwreck in the sky they rise.
the Dogs Bay empty on a grey day
curves a wide scythe of sand
mimicked slopes of rocky hills dissolve again in low grey sky.
the Dogs Bay rings silver laughter a treasure of pearls
beautiful daughter darts like a needle between sea and sand
strangers no choice, stopped in their tracks , infected smiles.
not since the Indian Ocean where she learned to walk
not since Cape Cod where she learned her heritage
not since Cape Breton where she learned of treasure
has she now Connemara remembered
So all quite on the autumnal front. hazy kinda fuzzy sunlite afternoon. working on my newest poetry collection “Still Wishing To Be Ravens”. Lapwing has sent me final proofs of new book. Morgan n I are on the cover. 64 pages of poetry. Dennis says he should be able to send me a batch in a week or so. Then i guess its read and sell to my adoring public. Great yoga session and did meditation. Morgan kept me company she sat tucked up in our bed while i used the bedroom floor. She was reading Dr Who magazine and the magic pony stories.
Tonight most excellent Shell will make her most excellent fish pie, tastes so much better than it sounds, pieces of smoked cod, plain cod, haddock, salmon, prawns, some diced carrots and peas all cooked in a basic bechamel sauce with smoked cheddar and some whole grain mustard mixed in at the end, a mashed potato topping with some grated nutmeg and a few knobs of butter that melt and make a crispy crust on top. best served with a nice cold dry white wine.
Stay tuned for pie photos and up dates.
Morgan is tucked up on the couch by the fire watching Night At The Museum and other stuff, while sipping herbal soother remedies. Still a lingering cough. But at least no fever.
Now print out rough draft of “Ravens”. Then a walk by the sun setting november lake all oranges and pinks muted by rolling steel waves…
Tip: check out A Road Full Of Ducks, by Tantra Bensko at calliope nerve. amazing piece of writing!!!!!!!
morgan and i
grey rains across the lake
even the fire duller now
as if unable to breath the airless air of your absence
not the anxiety of waiting
not the impatience of worry
something though stranger
knowing not wondering
your absence has no remedy
Moved things around for winter working this morning. a good hard stormy night into an equally rainy day. a long yoga mediation session, then down to the kitchen get a soup on for shelly, her favourite carrot (of course) this time even i liked the result. usually cant stand the stuff. move from the kitchen HQ to the front room. set up ‘puter and such. dog and cat each tucked up in their own separate armchairs. poked around on the emails, checked some new potential publishers but pretty restless un focussed for that so did some writing, a little example of something fresh is printed above. shelly got home for lunch, happy to have a hot soup and a fire. Calliope Nerve did put up two of my poems thanks for that!
When I wanted to see you
Young and available Dresses out amidst a blue jean wasteland Stoned as laughing smoky charms Dancing at any moment unannounced On the steps of Spanish little Harlem Turquoise as your eyes church doors Sacramental wine just open A spiral of possibilities each as believable as the past When I wanted to see you Roads wide open looking to ride Strong as summer sweat Muscles love like horses into sunset Diamonds across that midnight sky lived only in your fuck me eyes. Breathless barefoot pirouette octagon tiles Limitless kitchens by dull Frigidaire ice cold India ales Fast as you can drink ‘em Back porch third floor dawn Aegean blue Away among a city of fearlessness When I wanted to see you Saint Johns Christmas balsam scented crushed blood velvet Crystal singers choir of angels Mysterious as snow the mouth you used For me an accent of hypnosis lead like sorrow obsessed with green as if summer surfaced between live pines And the first breasts I ever saw You stripped for the reservoir My hands held showing me to cup each one instead When I wanted to see you So much more so than Where ever you were So much sooner than now ---------------------------------------------------------------
Idiot me picks now
6000 miles away at 52
To discover him
Still glad I didn’t stay in Waterbury
Find him sooner
Probably still be pukeing
Out in the after last call
Parking lot of now what am I gonna do
Or else back in jail
Or else still with one of the xes
Or else not even alive
Tonight just had a chicken and ham sandwich on rye
And its sometime after midnight
And I’ll probably still be up @ 6 maybe half 6
Do some yoga make coffee for the wife
Bring it to her in bed
Get some pancakes going for the kid
And be happy to do so
No not envious
Glad to be out of it
That’s the kind of poet I’m happy to live with
Last night started to read Morgan a new story before bed time. we sat by the fire on the sofa for this, i had read it to her a few years back but she didnt remember until we got to the door : round painted bright shiny green with a brass door knob in the middle -
Oh yeah! says Mor, the green door I remember that! So we read the Hobbit by the fire – up til 10pm school night and all! forgot the time i did. a timeless story after all! My daddy gave me the lord of the rings – how many years ago? i was probably 13 or so. any way morg remembers the green door. weird what stays with us. looks like we just like Bilbo have an adventure coming our way. shellys interviews with employers in the states go well. one offer already being formalised and sent to her for consideration. exciting. must be good to be recognised by your professional peers as being “just what we’re looking for” opportunity beckons. America, hopefully a little different from our last go. at least it’s not Bushmerica, as much. all the ghosts that wait for me though. thank god I got a buddha nature. om
So today began with rain. lovely soft grey glow through the sky light. todays big challenge – Morgan and i are going to make bread. yeast bread. i’ve made soda breads in the past, spelt, wheat no problem. Morgan still calls it M bread because instead of an X i’d cut an M across the top before putting it into the oven. always had a phobia regarding yeast risen bread – who knows why. just seemed like it’d be alot of trouble.
Soon we will be making hawthorn tinctures and the rowan berries are almost ready – rowan makes a good jam. meanwhile the sloes will be ripe after the first frost – is there anything other than sloe gin that you can make from them? well i guess sloe gin could be good? its nice to have made the remedies which keep us healthy. i walk out into the back garden and instead of high weird berry hedges - i see the elder berry trees which help me deal with this F’in flu. I feel like a little bit of the wild earth the natural world is caring for me. we picked the berries, thanked the elder for her blessing, put them in a basket and gave the bugs twenty four hours to leave, then brought them in and made decoction and tincture. so in all the interaction we created a new relationship with the plant that surrounds our house. same with the saint johns which we grew in the garden near the roses. and so too as we gather rowan and hawthorn from the laneway and by the lakeside. we could just go buy the stuff at the health shop but then we would miss out on relating with our surroundings.