Sunday, August 21, 2005


earth bleeds

deep within her
ice covered summit
boiling magma
swirling incandescent
exploding red

rock and ice
fiery lava flowing
fast as melted wax
fissures split the center
out to earth's skin

red rivers fiery
lava fountains
rain down a curtain
of fire

lakes of molten rock
illuminate clouds
red glow backlighting
the grey skies

incandescent fractures
zigzagging across the black
hardened scabs
crusts over blood

landforms of living lava
calderas sleep quietly
until the next time
mama magma wakes

(c) 1993

Wednesday, August 17, 2005

Vigil For Those Who Can't Get On With Their Lives

I started reading Cindy Sheehan's blog from Crawford, TX where she is camped out at Camp Casey - named for her son who died in Iraq in April, 2004, he was only 24 years old. She is camped out in front of the Bush ranch and says she won't leave until he meets with her about the war.

In her blog dated Tuesday, August 16 she relates that on Saturday, when asked why he had time to take a two hour bike ride but not to meet with Sheehan, President Bush was quoted as saying, "I have to go on with my life."

Tonight there are many candlelight vigils going on in support of Cindy Sheehan's efforts and that of so many people who want an end to the war in Iraq.

Anyone who is a parent of a child who is directly involved in this war, who is questioning what is going on over there by reading and finding out just who is profiting from this war has to be devastated. Cindy Sheehan asks the question that all of us, who have young people around the same age as her son, are asking...Why, if this war is so noble and so important, are Mr. Bush's daughters and so many others of their social status, not involved in the war effort -- out there on the front lines willing and able to die for their country?

My vigil is for all the middle, working class and poor young people of this land who feel their only choice to get a higher education these days is to have it paid for by enlisting in the armed forces, only to find themselves in deaths' path later.

My vigil is for all those misled and misinformed people who continue to support this war because they think that is the patriotic thing to do, may the light of these candles open and illuminate their minds.

Tonight my vigil is for Casey Sheehan and all the other soldiers who have died in Iraq, who unlike Mr. Bush can't get on with their lives because they were killed in this senseless war.

(c) 2005


you are the blue
floating jadeite
crystal castle
meltwater jettison
ice sheets on bedrock
scrape the earth clean
glacier tongues
lapped at the edges
by aqua

crystal lattice snow fields
form the silent valleys
warmer days bring
the meltings
up toward turquoise sky
only to return the next days
in white petals from on high

sea marigolds remember
when they slept
next to the thaw
lakes icy cold and blue
seen now only in visions
by unsuspecting travelers
on their way through the desert

(c) 1993

Ice Emperors

For the most part I don't like it when poets give disclaimers, explanations, or even comments about their work before they present it. But, I break with my own rule here to say this poem has been in my files long before I thought of publishing it here and has nothing to do with the upcoming film about these incredible birds...

bird brained
bizarre birds
wind burned by

he balancing
embryonic birds
on feet
while she feasts

he standing still
until ice


(c) 1993

Thursday, August 04, 2005


mas caras
more faces
mas cara
more expensive

one must have many faces to
send so many men to
massacre millions

(c) 2005

Wednesday, August 03, 2005

mud boy

when I see you
I double take
you miniature man
resembling the only one
I ever loved
grand canyons deep

in my soft red earth
chamisa and cactus
spotted desert depths
in eight short months
you formed
little mud boy

the greatest diviner
tapped early
into your source
you sprang to my surface
slowly at first then a geyser
gushing and gliding
new life of immense force

with ease you gurgled stories
from where you'd come
with your chubby tree limbs you learned
to crawl then after many spills and falls
balancing on shaky new legs you got up and walked

soon bird coos became words and
in the black whirlpools of your little eyes
I remembered how to love myself again

(c) 1987

photo: Lisa Moon

Tuesday, August 02, 2005


a force to be
reckoned with
a cloudy day
turned hurricane
a 5.4 earthquake
upsetting a ballgame
a wind whipping
fire storm
threatening to burn
to the sea
we can be
all this

This is what comes to me after meeting with our Tuesday night group of women writers. It takes me about 45 minutes to drive home and in that time I think of all we have written in group and all that was shared. The power in our conversations about life, about our partners, our children etc. Its big and then its not. After all it's what women have been doing since time immemorial. In the red tent, in the moon lodges, in the fields, on the assembly lines, sitting together at the kitchen table. The difference is, we as women writers are leaving our words for the people coming up, for the people we don't know personally but who may read our words in a book or on-line.

We span in age from 19 to 50+ and it's awesome the range of emotions that I feel sitting there listening to the magic we make in those lines that come through us. There is safety in writing with people who know how to bleed... With women, who every month lose a part of a possible future and some of us have been doing this for the better part of half a century. We do this because we can, because it's part of our divinity -- the possibility of continuing life on this planet. A force to be reckoned with...

(c) 2005

Moon musings




mined my






(c) 2005

Monday, August 01, 2005


flowers were her favorite people
they woke up when she did
went to bed at the same hour
her mother was a flower
Rosa Rosales Flores
can't get more flowery
each one had their story
from color, to height,
smell, shape, you name it
all individual darlings
always smiling
for you abuela

(c) 2005

getting old is not for the weak!

get with it
you're older
than you think
now you're worried
about the missing
link between you
and your dead
many who died
long before
the age you are
now that's something
to be reckoned with
getting old
death and dying
get in line
you're up next

(c) 2005

photo: Hawk Galvan, 1992

the wild wild west

i live in the wild
wild west
a time line
the border's hot
my car a sauna
to be given
the green
on the other side
red dust
mummified life
waiting to cross

(c) 2005

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