If you want to keep your frequency high
It’s best to not fall prey to reactive states
But with the reversal of roe vs wade
I pulled my shirt off twice in one day
It was an automatic response
Claiming- this body is mine
This sacred body is mine.
Maybe this is not the debate though
My sisters who are celebrating today
The unwanted fetuses that will come to term
Feeling in their hearts a victory
Proclaiming more life!
So as you can see there is
No consensus between us
Just a mad swinging pendulum
Impossible to dodge.
Is there a united ( states)?
I think we are starting from scratch.
My odd and wonderous friend
Is quitting Colorado…
Flying over to France tonight.
She brought me her honey collection
Radish Flower, Chestnut Honey from Italy
Lychee Blossom gathered in Java
All sizes of jars- some stickie
I’d promised her mom,
Who died 24 years ago….
I’d look after her daughter
We’ve had a steep journey but
Love and commitment transport
To where the roses bloom.
Laughing at fate
Honey, the food of God
Gifted me by her mother.
In the season of ripening strawberries.
It’s a Moon- Dwarf Eris trine
And my lunation is whispering….
Maverick suggestions like….go
Take your shirt off in front of Congress
To renew “our” vow to life.
Breasts mean life
and guns mean death!
Maybe we can gather locally first
to practice- want to ladies?
He was wild
Engines reeved in cowboy hat
Griffin by name, son of Planet Bluegrass!
We are a small town
Gone tribal due to recent events.
The death of a young one
A wrong move on his motorcycle
At his service we stood next to Joe
our town Chiropractor…..
” I x- rayed him a lot as a kid”
We need our wild ones
In coming asteroids
No way to duck and cover.
John’s truck is loaded
With colorful shapes of painted steel tubing
In route to Denver, Talk to the Birds…
A commission won three years ago.
Jacques and Lucien follow behind
Carrying the pre-formed foundation
Picks and shovels.
Lucien (17) will do the digging
And I am the chronicler,
A witness to wild will and determination,
These 10 years, a second career
John King, Kinetic Artist.
Sculptures that turn out of the wind
Just enough to not shatter
But still active in the lightest breeze.
This is John’s last sculpture,
Did we pull it off- this heist?
Profiting freedom ( of expression)
The highest value of the land?
Like two desperados we ride
Over the baked earth
Not sure if they are still chasing us
Or have given up.
How lovely, how perfect
Such grace and ease
Take a peek – we.
I had a power dream
The morning of my 72d birthday.
A wild insight
An odd happiness
This is what I got…
That it’s almost impossible
For soul to get all the way through here
Soul is present and smiling (sort of)
But basically not expressible by us
( We don’t know that it’s possible)
So everybody is off the hook..
In case you were judging anyone….
The density of the thought forms here
Is thick, (created by our joint minds)
But oddly all is well
This aspect of us
Is humming along
But when I give a nod in her direction
This eternal part of myself
“feeds me-she doesn’t need me”
(Sounds like a Mick Jagger song )
My brother has covid
He’s ok, I just talked with him.
He’s taking some drug
that tastes like metal
( Is this a good Idea?)
My friend, (under maximum surveillance)
With advanced dementia
Is turning 80 in June.
(He has said he didn’t want to live past 80)
His sister, Lois
Has sent out a plea,
Asking his friends
To psychically let him know
That it’s ok to go on.
First light finds me walking
Around the ponds…..
( Water is so helpful)
A morning dove, a rabbit …
five goslings making their way to the shore.
But it’s the illuminous osprey
Diving into the cold water
That becomes my wish for Gary
That kind of freedom, that kind of air
A victory, a flight, a fish.
( I’ll meet you there)
Seeds planted in the winter
Reach toward the light.
Seeds inspire, so tiny and full of might
Torn between my anger ( at our Supreme Court Judges)
(I’m completely rattled by this news)
And my broader view
Of the necessity for things to get worse before they get better.
Knowing too, that I need to calm my racing heart
And extend a lily to the person next to me
No matter what their view point is.
And if I can’t do this then I have no peace
No power either.
We women shoulder the great burden
Of consciousness at this time.
Large times- Wild women Wise.
This song goes out to you
“I woke up this morning
to a garbage truck
Looks like this horseshoe’s
Run out of luck
If I came home
Would you let me in?
Fry me a porkchop
And forgive my sin?
“Surround me with your endless love
Confound me with your endless love
I was drowning in the sea
Lost as I could be
When you found me
With your boundless love!”
John Prine, songwriter
My sister Jan, heart writer!