Monday, November 28, 2011
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Bonnie Hunter, the czarina of scraps has come out with a new mystery and I am in!!
It is called Orca Bay and I am going to try very hard to use only what I have on hand. Since the quilt uses special rulers, I was hesitant, but I found them in a polka dotted suitcase that I brought back from Florida. Both Rulers. Right there. In the black and white, polka dotted, linseed oil smelling suitcase that was specially designed not to get lost and/or stolen in the airport, by none other than my mother. I imagine if she added charisma to her many talents, we would be reading about her in Vogue. Be that as it may.
So the hunt is on. I will be entering the dragon's lair to pluck some feathers and sequester some fabric to begin. It has been many months since I braved the cool environs of my sewing room. Armed with Netflix and a cuppa tea, I go.
|If I am not out by six, call the mounties.|
Sunday, November 13, 2011
no dust bunny is safe,
He will likely not meet your eye unless invited.
Say hello Cecil.
Cecil channels energy,
He is always courteous,
adroitly making his way.
He sometimes smiles wryly-
the humor of the situation amuses him. He gets it.
We are all Supreme Beings, Cecil,
observers of comings and goings,
learning new rules with humor and grace,
striving for balance,
heroically wielding our brooms against
the bloody dragons.
Tuesday, November 08, 2011
If the Muse visits in the middle of the night and you do not wake to greet her
You may still see vestiges of her presence in the morning when you wake:
Hair on the pillow,
An empty glass with her lipstick on the rim, and you may hear the far off tinkling of the keys,
But you will never remember the words that she spoke so clearly then
In the morning light
they are but dim
Saturday, November 05, 2011
Friday, November 04, 2011
As women must.
Ignoring your need,
We bent to our own lives and turned away from your outrageous pain.
And now your keening fills up what little silence we have left
And your dreams inhabit our sleep
Insistent querulous demanding.
As I walk downtown
Past galleries and shop
Windows filled with colorful baubles
I think how sad it is that I cannot share this with you. I take notice of a picture and deep in the recesses of my thoughts I am having a conversation with you about it. I regret that you are unable to see it with me , that we wasted what small chance we had. It is from you that I have this discerning eye. It is from you that i learned to see.
Yesterday described a woman to me
Her nails were a mess
And I thought how much worse it really was for you,ludicrous really, coming from
Who had nothing
and yet it bothered you enough to notice that some ones manicure needed attention.
I made mental note to write this down. To preserve this thought so I could remember it for later. to try and understand it better, to decipher the code, balm the dried lips of the lie-
this certainty of our failure to heed what we needed to heed.
To learn what must be learned
to protect each other.
Those women whose sad songs we sense rising from the ground are the bodies of our failures.
Maybe the biggest failure is that we do not learn from each other's histories and return time and time again to models which as women do not serve to unite and protect us, chattel , whore, mistress, wife, prostitute-all iron maiden degrees of ownership and shame and claim.
How have we helped each other to create more gentle nurturing shapes of safety, solace and fellowship and love.
those women whose bodies are found half buried in the eroding wetland dunes, how did they come to be there if we did not ourselves turn from them because they did not fit into the paradigm of worth that we subscribe to. how did we give away our power thus and submit ourselves to the murderous intent of a sinister model-one that we both abhor and create,
allowing ignorance to be our teacher and fear to be our arbiter.