today's moon transits from cheesy chinese astro page

Moon Transits (useful a few hours)

I took my banjo down to the seaside

I walk circles

in the dirt

with the taste of salt in my mouth

my lips are blistered and parched by a sun

 so unkind

so hot

 that I can fry an egg on the palm of my hand.

I will one day walk on water   a saline lake tipped by

Stalagmites   crafted by diamonds   noble spire&peak.

I walked in circles

 on the edge of that volcano for so long that my skin

became the color of molten lava

 and hardened as if I were a new continent forming/a metate to grind corn/a sea wall/a wedding dress on fire

I walk circles around the planet Jupiter begging for some lucky star to

Befriend me /o beneficent tide pool.

o carnelian chalice.

Unfathomable Sadness&The Pithy Heart of an Acorn

 

The fog rolled back and forth over

 Moat Creek sixteen times

this morning    undecided    it    seems

 yes

fickle

leaving only enough moisture as if one were to feed water

 into a bird’s mouth with an eyedropper       just a tease.

I see things Differently now but am still tangled in that story about how we might

have been Eurydice and Orpheus in a new historical and mythos of modern love,

Not quarantined to this realm of faerie and mossy tomb

not this life with no clear

path before me warmed by sun&steam.

I can sing like an angel when I drive my car and I will charm the Lord of the Dead with my finely painted map of Hades

with my newly acquired caution

                                       my sing songy irreverent mocking of Cause&Effect.

my refined beguilement

                                      I will steal the heart of the Lord of the Dead, preserve it in 

a silver acorn

worn around my neck  hung from the fishing line

I cut from Neptune’s hook.

meditations as mercury stations direct

How small black birds drink water from crevices in the asphalt at dawn

How grief sits in your belly telling stories and singing songs about sunlight

How the quiet sits on you like a terrible sister

How the redwood orchid erupts from the despair of slash and arrives as would

a smile

How patient longing can be

How survival is no longer the goal but becomes the breath

Happy Birthday Mommy!

                                                                        
                                                                                                  5.9.1915

We played that glass bead game didn’t we ?

Carelessly throwing turtle shells into bonfires 

traveling roads that were cracked and dangerous.

I never in a million years thought it would come to this, where I prayed to the flurries    crushed diamonds with my bare hands    burned the effigy of moss and petulance.

We once believed love was silver and ancient as a hopi burial ground    we once made love under a blanket of crushed rose petals    we once saw music in stars and vapor.

To grow up this year was hard .  My skin is no longer soft.  Do you remember how the high desert looks in summer where the earth is cracked as a map of the rivers of the world might look ?  the confluence of tributary    the complexity of tides and currents.  

 Now.

 Everything has changed and nothing will ever be the same  as you stole the coral from my heart and gave it to       cannibals 

 you will never remember that I smell like vanilla and roses

 you will never remember how I softened your night terrors and lit your darkness.

 I am tired. 

The Sabian symbol meaning for twenty three degrees aries

Blown Inward By The Wind, The Curtains Of An Open Window Take The Shape Of A Cornucopia

twenty three and a half degrees

The Faery Sutra

I thought I was doing the right thing

all hunkered down and quiet here       wrapped   up   like

an Eskimo.

I sheltered myself , wrote sonnets on the discarded skins

of lizards       painted wings on the backs of sparrows .
  

  I told myself stories about sunlight and water.

I resisted all my urges to return to the place where I had once

                  Caught Fire   

  I was forming new skin with dark blue type written as

 sacred  slogans tattooed on these hands that now feel so helpless.

I took refuge inside a moss covered old growth redwood stump

                    You know, the one I asked to be buried in.

I stayed there despite:

                the wind pounding against walls around me of indescribable green  

                the wind makings sounds of an old woman’s creaking bones

                the wind muffling a crying woman’s lament

                the wind in an argument with the rigid fallen forest.

I left this place for a moment and when I was not paying attention the other shoe dropped.

The wind screamed at me from across the road as if to say “watch out!” but it was too late.

	May 4, 2010 at 6:27pm Re: love yes life is fabulous. we are moving to a new house at my dad's with his new girlfriend. my new school is good. lacrosse season is almost over. :(

i once fit the moon in my pocket