indigo moon: 2009

Friday, December 25, 2009

an ode to pancakes

he smiles at me with his tiny chicklet teeth and a spatula in his hand. he's so small at the stove. propped up on a padded wooden stool, wearing only a t-shirt; no pants, immersed in his creation. pancakes. a wheat-toned island, blanketed by terra-cotta tiles split the kitchen into two sections. i run my fingers over the lacqured tile, loving the imperfection. i trace with my fingers over the thin lines of muddy grout-- making squares.

two poems

i am at an old tree on roxmill court
we met years ago

walking the mushy earth feels familiar

sparks of sunlight are bouncing off of me
dancing on the tips of my hair

the colors are just as i remember
ivory against all shades of brown
green bursting in lime
auburn
pale yellows
and hints of red

it's more kept now
flowers all around

i see now my color scheme for life
and why i am so attracted

the fall here is bliss
and actually, so are all of the seasons

summer heat
filled with wild waves of green
fresh grass scented
crunching echoes through the forest

i spot the oak
where we once found a slick black snake
dripping down the bark like wet tar

all of my neighbors are gone from this place
its reality only a memory
but its sweetness is ever-present

.......................................

lost in the forest... by pablo neruda

Lost in the forest, I broke off a dark twig
and lifted its whisper to my thirsty lips:
maybe it was the voice of the rain crying,
a cracked bell, or a torn heart.

Something from far off it seemed
deep and secret to me, hidden by the earth,
a shout muffled by huge autumns,
by the moist half-open darkness of the leaves.

Wakening from the dreaming forest there, the hazel-sprig
sang under my tongue, its drifting fragrance
climbed up through my conscious mind

as if suddenly the roots I had left behind
cried out to me, the land I had lost with my childhood---
and I stopped, wounded by the wandering scent.

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

mt. si

dear seattle,

with your mountainous charm
you're a dream

fresh air
never-ending skies
still
with flickering lights
you shine

i love your hills
and the awe of emptiness
lush green
i could drink you

bring me
more color and sun
you'll have me

your whiteness is epic
snow-capped beauty

our endless numbered days

Monday, November 16, 2009

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

month of the scorpion

(The Sun is in Scorpio from approximately October 23 to November 21, depending on the year.)

Scorpios are known for their intensity. They are determined folk that absolutely throw themselves into whatever they do -- but getting them to commit to something is rarely an easy task. In fact, it's better not to even try to "get them" to do anything. Solar Scorpios absolutely have their own mind. And, their primary motivation is unlikely to be prestige (like their Capricorn friends), or even authority (Leos can have that, too)--it's real power. Their power can absolutely be of the "behind the scenes" variety, just as long as they have it.

To others, Scorpios seem to have plenty of willpower. They probably do. Scorpios do know what they want, and they won't go out and grab it at the wrong moment. They simply sit back, watch (quite expertly), and then get it only when the moment is just right. This apparent patience is simply their powerful skills at strategy at work.

Scorpio isn't afraid of getting their hands (their bodies, their minds) dirty. The darker side of life intrigues them, and they're always ready to investigate.

Scorpios simply never give up. They have tremendous staying power. They're not in the slightest intimidated by anybody or anything. Confrontations are not a problem. In fact, talk to any Scorpio about their lives, and you'll probably be in awe at all they've gone through. Trauma seems to follow them wherever they go. When Scorpio learns optimism, instead of expecting the worst, they'll find that they possess amazing regenerative powers -- the power to heal, create, and transform.