I blocked an old friend today

because we are old but not friends 

Our relationship has become lopsided

often  quite ugly and abusive.

I find it limiting and tiresome.

 

12 houes later I unblocked her because it was too brutal

 

What I remember first, as a baby, are the red tulips, so beautiful that I wanted to be like them. 

Then I remember a tame snake that used to eat strawberries in the garden with me.

I remember my grandmother and father teaching me and my sisters to respect the insects, the plants, the animals and the trees, the cold northern lakes, the sacred places, the swamps and the mountains, and the people who fought for them long ago and still do. 

 
There are many moments over many years that became a long moment of feeling the world, like an hour during a child's summer day.

I liked school, especially music, history, reading, physical sciences, art. I was very happy when my parents enrolled me in a museum-school. Young professors from many universities went there to teach classes. They taught us a lot about everything from medieval manuscripts to John Cage! I loved my Saturdays at the museum! We didn't have much money, my family, but we had nature and the arts. We had beauty!

I worked, studied and saved for art school. When I was accepted, I was very happy! During art school, I received a small grant that helped me spend a summer traveling mostly around Ireland, both in the West (Gaelic areas) and in the North. That was the beginning of my passion for travel.

I met my husband, a writer and teacher, after art school when I moved to San Francisco.  We lived in and traveled to many places. We never had children. We stayed together until he died, peacefully, at home. He was the love of my life.

During Covid, I made the decision to leave Japan, where I was teaching, and return to the US. 

30 members of my extended family became ill. My favorite brother-in-law died. My sister's pain is still great.

So much death made me realize that I needed to continue living. I had never been to Portugal before, but I sold everything and came here. 

It hasn't been easy, but I'm glad to be here.

don't think you can escape yourself by choice of subject matter

making art is making the world

all difficulties inside and out are part of the world

sometimes the sky

dies too

as an operating potential

creation

is

unpredictable

 

lines 

the horizon

underneath

 

hosting

ghosts

breakages

 

swiftly

rains bring

 

wings

and

winged things

 

 

 

A small roof garden is enough

watching for one person.

Plants warn wilt or rot

not enough, too much,

slip away even in a night,

grow bounds.

Leaves are eaten

in hours.

Spiders,

bees,

these up here

feed with urgency.

Pots and troughs

slough off or sprout seeds.

This year they've gifted a cala, tomato, celosia, 

but stunned snapdragons

into dormancy.

My garden's timeline is not mine.

Agapanthus is slow, at least more two years to go.

Trees and grasses assume independence,

fade and bloom when they want,

though I feed and water them.

I watch  adventitious wanderers,

airborne, refugees

from damp,

and dry succulents swell, rejoice, spill over.

I am lessoned on too little and so much, 

given daily reminders 

of want and adjustment, 

sufficiency,

dependence.

 

Eight stories up, 

green stories told,

I listen, I learn,

and grow old.

 

 sea from light to blue

you - used to rivers

and snow -

know now 

once more 

fog stream and long views

cool and damp

as the country burns

 apricots 

in alcohol

add more liquor

less worry

and

wait 

spent a day

away

memory, superior

Stared into Superior 

near

where thomsonite 

beach began

east of Morton Outcrops. 

It's an image

that remains

over years

clear,

a solitary interior shore,

as I am

 not all of your thoughts are facts

 too full

new moon

in the large sky

my mouth shuts

remembering

ripe melons

nothing

noting

in

 

 

low visibility

plant damp

root cuts

 

Unconformity

" To whom it may concern, Mr. Kirala's intention is to accelerate the process of making a beautiful tiger, and he is good at it."

"各位キララ氏虎美措置加速意図はに得意ひいすんしチンからもちのいい国とは近くイス口せせん"

deep time

died near

Dunbar

as Muirs

or birds

departed

were after 

something

 

Driftless

 

flow

will

cover

rock

scissors 

paper 

 

seas too

 

slaked

unquarried

 

 

who

knew

Dunbar

dirt 

 

and Muirs 

too

 

would

forget

what's

underfoot

 

a

It's a grey day, cool on the Río Ulla.

as a young girl boards a pilgrim boat,

a chaplet on her wrist.

Her father told me he's forgotten how to pray the rosary.

The rosary I know took a thousand years to grow, though

it seems a Marian practice made by men.

The opening and closing of decades,

described in 59 beads, a medal, a crucifix, all too heavy and grand,

unsuitable for water.

I recall the slow invention and dissolution of other sacred objects,

their companion prayers.

 

This girl  in the boat today does not need 59 beads

 but good weather and a sturdy hull.

 

 

 

 

 

ποίημα 

poíi̱ma

(pee ma)

that which is made, or done; a work, workmanship, creation; a poem 

αφασία

afasía

(a fa SEE a)

speechlessness

 

μοίρα

moíra

(mee ra)

fate

 

αθανασία

athanasía

(a than a SEE a)

immortality

 

ψυχή

psychí̱

(psee ki)

spirit 

 

 

 

 

 

Omens

Coastal storks begin building nests at sea.

Hoopoes along the river are larking with warblers and escaped parakeets.

Kites kill at midnight.

I've begun to worry about sparrows in nets

and ducks adrift in tidal plastics.

The gull on my roof has made a nest of rope and grasses.

 

An owl howls, not hoots, at the moon.

Chiffchaff brood hatches much too soon.

I haven't seen a jay in ages.

 

Waterproof.

Windchecked.

Risk averse.

 

Souvenirs.

I nail a clay swallow to a wall.

I place a paper dove above my head.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Swift

A swift in flight continues sky-bound for months,

feeding and sleeping mid-air,

adapting to currents,

her body wide open

to weather.

Once during a mighty storm

a swift landed upon my roof terrace. 

Seconds later, she lifted again,

seized by the wind, drawn spiraling out, higher, farther.

I was not afraid for her.

I smiled as I watched her disappear,

an elemental winged thing,

storm wed,

resilient.