Tuesday, April 12, 2011

National Poetry Month ~ Write a Poem a Day for 30! Poems 7-11

Poem 7 - A tribute to sun


morning
sun shoos off clouds
no room for shade or rains
cool air ribbons slip in slyly
surprise

















sun rays


Poem 8 ~ grief
deep grief
sadness, a lake
place swampy with tendrils
a specific coordinate
you touch





















Poem 9 ~ downfall

great roads
left in ruin
while thieves fan dancing
to tunes of billions pillfered while
poor - wait



Poem 10 ~ Power of Earth

we knelt
in your fields yet
we were not your slaves
we knew earth's power at the root
and prayed







Poem 11 ~ Sin Pistas (Clueless)


She leaves
Him a new kiss
under rumpled pillows ~
faeries leave no clues to future
questions


Tuesday, April 05, 2011

National Poetry Month ~ Write a Poem a Day for 30!

Here are my Poems 1-6! If you haven't taken up the NaPoWriMo challenge there is still time to catch up.


Poem 1 ~ The Women In My Life

the women in my life
are forces of nature

with words, paint and drums
they know how to run out the liars

they are poets, musicians, painters
dancers, singers and drummers

activists

bringing the world more life
through their vibrant colors

their melodies and music
their words and dances

their medicine

chances are you've seen them
on stages, or scaffolding and maybe

even street corners with signs
talkin about injustice, about peace

or how they don't believe in hate
its great how they envision

the world a better place
for the whole human race

the women in my life
are my muses of future


Poem 2 ~ Ruby Slippers

trying to ride

the tides of reality

as presented by this material world

that has no hold on it

but merely presents a plausible view

it's nice to know that this is not it,

that there is something else that lives

on the edge of this technologic world

chock full of strip malls and strip clubs-

doesn't every new movie show one -

women taking off their clothes for money

or out of boredom,

or to show a truth not told

it gets old this wanting

to see what's behind

door number one or the iron curtain

or is it the great computer

the greatest wizard

of the Outer Zone that still lurks

waiting for us to ask

the right riddle to his answer and

Dorothys everywhere wake

with that urge to click their

ruby heels together

to go who knows where

but we are not in Kansas anymore and

more than Toto know this

though many piss on the knowledge of that and

continue to be contented

with their Iphones and Ipads instead

of realizing that the world as we've known it

IS really coming to and end

it's okay, the r/evolution really won't be televised

or even tweeted

whatever that means

who knows,

we thought we did

we were wrong

now we only know we are not buying the bullshit

of being happy with the latest toy

we are merely waiting for a sign and

we look for them daily

in purple skies and unusual weather patterns -

that have become more normal than not

We await 2012 and hope

it is not the letdown of Y2K

Hooray!

did we forget that farce fast? ...

alas, we forget how gullible we are,

just waiting for a sign

of a new beginning or ending

we could start ourselves.


















ruby slippers



Poem 3 ~ Destiny


embracing your destiny

should be painless

as morning being birthed

through the aperture

of consecutive indigo

nights that pass through

the sieve of sky and amber

stars rolling on low boil

it is not a TV drama

or the nightly done rightly

news though it may be stranger

than any writ down fiction

because most modern day

humans act so hastily

yes, so often times stupidly

thinking tomorrows won't

catch up to them in an eye-

blink and disaster has struck

people wail and weep but keep on

doing the same unquestioning

things over and over again

just like our sunrise blooms

into another day

we expect to live just fine but

A Nation can't sleep knowing

that Japan is going down and

no one in power ever said

let's stop the obvious threat

while daily we spend billions

on war

more people are dying

from tech-no-logic insanity

can't we help fix this now

In California we swim

the same sea that washes up

thousands of miles away

from the radiated shores

just off of Fukushima and

our nuclear power plants

San Onofre and Diablo Canyon

- the Saint and Devil twins -

sit waiting on the fault line

for a destruction sure and

all we hear is tongue wagging

the same lies of yesteryear

it will never happen here...
















fukushima #3 blacksmoke



Poem 4 ~ A blessing of blue corn


she plucks twelve kernels

of purple-blue corn from its husk

to have a future divined for her

she is nervous about the past

anxious for a future cast, yet

she is trying to decide

her path which seems to crash

down around her whenever she thinks

she knows all the answers

From each Direction

she asks for guidance

then enters inside and

opens herself up thirsting

for possibilities

wondering what will be foretold

in which direction

she will ultimately go




















Blue Corn



Poem 5 ~ Going Home

She's says she's going

home? her friend asks

because she's a gypsy and

spends time in many places


it only takes a beat

for her to form a response

home is not a place...

certainly not a house


with a collected life inside

even if they are beautiful

things, carefully selected

over lifetimes


she knows, most of her

worldly goods

have been given, sacrificed

or thrown to the four winds


home is people

who love her

when she's there or when

she's just a spark of memory


those whose heart beats

are syncopated with hers

locked in this back and forth

dance called a life


The Gypsy Woman



Poem 6 ~ Being A Border

I've been here all of my life

on the edge of this or that

a bridge between my people

crossing people

come to me

to enter more worlds

than I can even fathom

I am is a border

something of a fence sitter

except in my case I am not neutral

I take both sides, I am from and for

both sides, yes

I live the in-betwixt and in-between

I am the center and the balance

I see good and bad

at every turn

at every crossroads

and every crossing is a ritual

what do you offer to enter?

seven shiny dimes to the mother

of all mothers, of the salty waters

or nine pennies to the wind whisperer

the keeper of the last door we enter...

I've been here all of my life and

all I want to do is cross that line

myself, want to pass the torch

having been now totally scorched

by this playing at blind justice

is there really such a thing?

I think not.

someone always has to win

and someone loses

even if I know the secret

that losing you win

still, that's because I'm

a different kind of thinker

having the luxury or curse

of being from the middle

living on that fine line

between this or that

here or there

it's a fact

being a border is no fun

you have to let some in

and keep some out

and then all those

convoluted routes

people take to get there --

even when they know in their heart

it's not for them, and

they should've stayed put

they figure that out later

sometimes when it's too damn late

but wait, why'd I let them in

if it wasn't for them?

oh yes, because it was a lesson...

lofty this job of mediator

border deity

job seems too big

too pretentious

somehow playing god

when all I am is an idea


I am a border
a door
a hoarder of hopes
of injustices
tucked inside promises
of new lives,
lives really not new or better
simply different
I am a border
a line
a big lie.




"Wall of Crosses ..."

The Big Poetry Giveaway!


The Big Poetry Giveaway! 2011


Kelli Russell Agodon started this project where poetry bloggers get together and give away poetry books for National Poetry Month and in the spirit of the "give away" and poetry I decided to participate.



How this works:

I'm giving away two books. If you want to win these books, please leave a comment on this post with a link back to your blog/website OR leave your email address (if you don't have a blog/website). The giveaway runs from now until April 30. On May 1, 2, or 3, I will be randomly drawing one name from the list of people who commented and that person will be the winner! I will mail two poetry books to you for free!


Here are the two books I'm giving away, "Migratory Birds: New and Noted Poems," my first full-length collection of poetry, and Joy Harjo's wonderful collection, "In Mad Love and War."








































A little note about myself: I identify as poet/activist and educator. In my "day jobs" I've literally worked in many fields, from farm worker to labor organizer, cultural worker/teacher, Human Resources director to editor. I've been writing since my early teens and can say in all honesty that my favorite "work" has been facilitating creative writing workshops for people of all ages. I believe that we all came to this earth with a purpose and it is our responsibility to honor ourselves and our ancestors by being the best we can be at all we endeavor to do.


Good luck!


✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

BIG POETRY GIVEAWAY!

Link to the List of Participating Blogs...

And the guidelines on how to participate further, via Kelli's site ~ Book of Kells ~

"The goal is to share our favorite poets with others as well as to visit different blogs and see who others are reading. There is also a benefit for those who participate as it will bring people to your blog and share your work and/or the work of a favorite poet with them."

Wednesday, March 02, 2011

MY POETRY FOR FEBRUARY ~ NATIONAL HAIKU WRITING MONTH ~





✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿


undone by sunsets | destiny calls us home | down a winding red road

with soul freed he rides | winter winds journeying home | to the other side

flowers for the dead | cheer the living with beauty | their message, live

boy swings in hammock | too rainy outside to play | brings the wind inside

we awaken spirits | with our everyday dance | then stop - acknowledge

down this street | the sun playing hide-and-seek | a whole world happens

scarlet flamingos | unfurling ruddy feathers | kissed by sunset

prickly pear heart | your center is the best part | past the thorns there’s mad love

mythical ones speak in tongues | forever tattoos on rock | faces that tell us

I miss you dark haired | lost to moonlight and stars | still afire

gaps in memory | jelled realities floating | timed out synapses

a cloak of distance | enfolds you but cannot hide | your light shining through

time and water | liquid that freezes or flows | rivers we go down

you are my other | me seen clear in your black eyes | twin souls divided

pounded gold for the fifth sun | silver strung for moon | offerings to god

earth’s broken rudder | twisted axel to the core | righted by the stars

if the poets were to stop | writing with their hearts | there would be chaos

morphing metaphors | to sooth our life’s obsessions | beauty can’t be beat

colonial snare | forced vision’s epicenter | everything crumbles

purple-red rimmed rock | calls from winter deep canyons | in your own soft voice

a conger woman | turned the color of sun, maiz | flesh offerings


©Odilia Galván Rodríguez, 2011

Thursday, October 14, 2010

random 'ryū

random 'ryū




another

nine, today's number
a fine day to race away
to find another

More for G



you are here always
in our minds and these hearts~
we never forget

For Gail



your name powerful
an invocation to fly
full force to the winds

goodbye



in another time
it is tomorrow today
you fly freely home

blessings for a friend



a wish and a prayer
to bless her on her way home
fond remembrances

snake



discretely creeping
winding expertly from trees
he's silent, this noose

on losing a friend



today her heart breaks
her friend gone to ancestors
on the wings of wind

unlucky in love



locks her poor heart shut
against love entanglements
she has no such luck

old age



aching for a change
races against clocks, tick tock
waiting for no one

el merengue



icing on the cake
sugar raking across teeth
crunchy to the taste

sweet treats



licking this and that
drat the calories of all
make mine sugar free

Oaxaca landslides



their dark drenched mountains
decided just to nosedive
lost their insides out

adjustments

clickity clacking
down the back stairs of his spine
this chiropractor

shoes



offbeat, his heart stops~
dancing every time he sees
her red soled black heels

bend



meandering stream
winds at certain frequencies
a bend less traveled

sounds



oh small arm of sea
indigo channel cutoff
leading to a sound

my lover's name



sublime syllables
his name sliding over tongue
tattooed to my soul

between love and the other



the thin line between~
what you love and what you don't
is a fine silk thread

hurricane season in Havana



cobalt water drenched
the corners of 23rd
wings of seven seas

dreamstates

obsidian eyes
watch from the night's other side
waiting for answers

May Queen
a rose in her crown
of thorns, bloomed crimson instead;
opened up her mind

rainy day

the rainstorm sits still
waiting on the horizon
thunder beings dance

nostalgia

I'm wishing you here
knowing you are there, hearing
the same whistles blow



Senryū Soliloquy 3

Senryū Soliloquy 3


level

flattened to the floor
bulldozer mentality
knocked out in one blow

fissure

mama magma breaks
surface splits to release her
molten red blood boils

sway

be blown to and fro
rhythmically challenged salvo~
prairie grass dancers


parched

licked lips, cracked and split
while dreaming an oasis
drop skipped the mirage

boot

jackboots a message
cruelty in their dark hardness
of country well-heeled


brambles

oh prickly dog rose
scrambling to cling and brush~
blackberries bleeding

arch

line lifted eyebrows
perplexing convexity
a span of bird wings


difficult

laborious sun
a puzzling stargazer
orbiting cosmos


eternity

an eternity
galaxy's deep nebulae
in the endless dark

gravity

his body attracts
her center, a mighty force |
field of Spring greens gone


wind chimes

North wind helps sound rhymes
in glass chimes outside my door
your name in my ear


sublime

rhymes that do not try
but cry and ring anyway
that sail purple skies


wax

a honeycomb home
so full of love and sunshine
yellow and sticky


weather

her temperature
below zero but rises
sizes up the scene



28

Tuesday, September 07, 2010

Senryū Soliloquy 2



Senryū Soliloquy 2


loop and twist my soul
open mesh, silken touch
a rush to ecstasy


sunflower

beekeeper's delight
the right kind of buzz magnet|
cheers even the dark

midst

in the middle of
us ~ one strong and sturdy voice
broke ~ moved all to tears


return

refolded edges
obsidian recurrence
collided time lines


faithful

until death do us
part or lightening strikes us down|
in for the long hall


reverse

a downshift in gears
contemplating beginnings
counter clockwise moves


willow

wind pollinated
flower of a single sex
downy and catlike


bend

flexibility
swaying silkily like grass ~
a green river's turn


brine

a salty bubble
saturated with ocean
impregnated brew


raincloud

shadows stretched to gray
billowing felt fingers crowd
out sunny skies


well

the diviner's rod
a spiral of energy
dowsing to find rain


run

a good time while... ~ was
had by all, now it's 'bout Fall
new book bags, school shoes


gold

like diamonds create
greed sickness in certain men
yellow fever kills


Thursday, August 26, 2010

Senryū Soliloquy 1


Senryū Soliloquy 1



updraft

riding drafty
currents of air shifting down
and round this old house


bucket

a receptacle
for rain that's collectible|
to wash raven hair


sponge

drinking it all in
soaking the sun's bleeding rays |
sopping up the shine


ferocious

precocious their love
growly with fangs and claws
their deepest indigo


risk

risking a tryst
with an old love that surfaced
sailing on fantasy


ablaze

brick house all ablaze
razed to the ground ~ done in
by a book of matches


marble

lost her marbles
soon after knuckling down
went home with one cat's eye


jellyfish

jiggly neon nymphs
extraterrestrial visitors
monitoring seas


rice

rivers of pudding
food for the hungry masses
mighty white delight

sight

twice sided vision
valuable and varied
the ways ~ that we see




26

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

more 'ku train senryu _ _ _.


more 'ku train senryu _ _ _.


lichen

lush emerald green
nature's carpet covering
a fitting blanket


trickle

fine leak of water
a most prosperous omen
dry desert manna


bend

in the river
an elbow crook, curved cradle
jade water heaven


look

the unseen sheen shines
when the under uncovered
layers peel away


canyon

red burnished slices~
merciless winds gorging them |
those moonlit ravines


beach

lovers entwined
stretched out on a deserted shore
waiting for world's end


saxophone

nothing better blues
played on shiny saxophones
the sound track of life


bask

to bathe in his sun
the one he can't see
to swim in its brilliant light





more 'ku train senryu _ _ _



more 'ku train senryu _ _ _



zebra

rife with stripes zigging
and zagging this funny horse
gracious and stunning


who

a lofty question
a suggestion of import
and we are all one


soften

like butter melting
in frosting on a warm cake
my anger dissolves


recluse

brown and yes, scary
this spider weaves its own world
not to be messed with


curved

lines I fit into
you a spoon scooping me
rounded out like a drum


stroll

we stroll down memories
gone lost just yesterday
wishing on time-machines


abundance

redundant redux
cupboards of emergency |
canned food for winter


stem

main line ~ family
the glue of a sinking ship |
where we wind our clock


sting

the ringing of ears
when tongues wag negatively
a sting to good hearts


ginger(ly)

lacy-fingered round
a baby's head held cradled
in a cup of hope


shake

all earth's children quaked
then mother's rumbling bowels
shook them off like fleas


ache

to ache, or to bless
your fellow path followers
life's pain or power


bang

in the beginning
the big collide divided
another theory







more 'ku train senryu _ _ ....



more 'ku train senryu _ _ ....


drift

swept away on air
in the blueness of water
currents of future

blend

harmonious
a desired combination ~
our soulful mix


raspberries

reddish-pink drupelets
whose juice colors crimson mouths
edible jewels


slip

in search of something
there on tips of tongues ~
concealed in sudden gestures


delicate

flower petal wings
tiny baby wrapped in veils
of the other side

waterfall

cascade of brilliance
a full mind spilling over
earth's cool jade water


happy

in the company
of good spirits smiling on
from seventh heaven


dim

the light when sun dies
how future looks in a rear view
mirrored fractals


sideways

along the axis
no ruffling of feathers
obliquely shadowed


buffet

rough winds buffeted
the ocean tries eating sand
swirls up the coastline


slither

slippin' and slidin'
slippery snake writhin'
stealthily up the path


burst

at the seams with joy
jump up at the newborn sun
run the streets happy


ledge

rocks beneath green seas
near shores adoring water
azure with pleasure


shark

shark man swam the seas
searching for his salvation
he was a new breed

half-man half fierce great white shark
seeking peace with all creatures


fine

pair of silk stockings
hung seductively over |
a fine screen cover









Sunday, August 22, 2010

more 'ku train senryu _ _ ...


more 'ku train senryu _ _ ...

butte

lava pinnacles
cap rock rough enough to stand
steady these landforms


tempest

skies opened their eyes
let loose a good hard cry
winds joined in - howling


frog song

nocturnal sirens
waking the neighborhood
wailing songs of love


sparrow

old world weaver bird
o waxbill ~ o java
knit a world in a nest


cloudburst

a sudden shock of rain
storm violently crashing
water down on earth


curiosity

what killed the cat
being in others' business
while not being asked


loyalty

we pledge allegiance
to flags that have stopped flying
o'er reality








more 'ku train senryu _ _ ..



more 'ku train senryu _ _ ..


train

things were not the same
she boarded a slow train south
trying to find home


drift

consciousness shifted
to peripheral vision
momentarily

current

dipped in stardust
daredevils catch downdrafts
flown on the wind's wings


peacock

all window dressing
the male peafowls strut their stuff
females, they aren't fools


hedge

she shielded herself
from cold, the know it all's
right into loneliness


temper

tempered by heat
walking mean streets for a living
softened by real love

jewelry [box]


pearl moons from the sea
trinkets spilling over in waves
her remembrances

soften

sun the color of butter
melting through curtains
contagious the smiles

magnanimity

heart like a whorehouse
always open and inviting
a grand soul


luck(y)

a penny or kiss
shamrocks never fail
to turn us hopeful


hover

levitate or loiter
but don't stand too close to me
hang around awhile

fabric

those red stars in galaxies
far beyond rainbows
are my ancestors



more 'ku train senryu _ _.

more 'ku train senryu _ _ .


(✿◕‿◕)compromise


meet me halfway
one side touches the other
in a fond embrace


submerged


descended below
her surface polished perfect
the unseen grimace

burrow


rich red-brown the earth
hollowed out by sweet sound
flowers are born singing

farther


end of the clearing
furthest reaches of your town
turns blind in some eyes

flaw


diamonds in the raw
flaws thawing into shining
light through thick forest


fulfilled


thrilled with outcomes
cups half-full to overflowing
everything's roses

cardioid

we are two hearts
circling like red-tailed hawks
wanting love for life

orange


leathery-leaved evergreen
trees bear sunny fruits
filled with ambrosia


lull


breathing room
a space to be alone
pausing for clarity

chill


chilled to the marrow
bone cold and ready to fly
south winds wintering

heard


listening past tense
hearing beyond the obvious
between the lines

drip

en una gota
reflejos de corazon
el mundo gira
in a drop
shadowed heart's reflection
a world turning


spring [water]


a fount bursts brilliant
crystalline jeweled water
heady to give life

ruddy


ruddy morning light
earth throwing off night's blanket
birthing a new day

old wooden fence - really?

faded, forgotten
fallen into disrepair
the line between us




Monday, April 05, 2010

Poem 4 - Parallel Universes

the rouge of camellias
their cinnamon scented faces
upturned towards the light
our synchronous vibrations
are reflected in this wholeness
where we are but a stitch
in the fine mesh of creation’s web



in a parallel universe
you and I have danced
this back and forth before
we have taken our love far
in all directions
as far as it will go
at once and never



again is often better
because by then the rough edges
of youth have been burnished
bright and hence are smoothed
like the crags of ancient
mountains ground down
by four winds



the plague of humanness is
striving for someone else's
idea of perfection
or never seeing the need
to become better

humans
every day
our faces turned
towards the light




© Odilia Galván Rodríguez, 2010

Poem 3 - Dreams Unfurled

dreams
unfurled

luminescent
flags
waving
in surrender
to the night
or
is it really day
there’s no way
of knowing
what is folded
into dreams
what is this state
we call being
awake
when we take
hold of the string of our kite
and fly
our dreams right
with purpose
and direction
envisioned
our reality
whether
we walk
in a dream
or are awake
is softened
molten red
lakes of fire
are crossed
just as sure
as the calm
azure ones are
it’s a matter of
your stars
your wires
crossed or
untied
are you
smoothed feathered
or caught up
in what you fear
believe
time melts
into cracks
or moments
become
eternities
journeys
with return
tickets
canceled or
postponed



©Odilia Galván Rodríguez, 2010


Dockside Dreams
a painting by Walfrido Garcia

Saturday, April 03, 2010

Poem 2 - of love and crows



indigo crows
follow her
from the Bay Area
to Bakersfield
cawing messages
or warnings
maybe both
they sit high
in the trees
smiling
at her naiveté
her insistence
on being in love
with love


he says love
is about convenience
she says it's about hope
and believing in life
because love is
in everything living
from the moment
they are infused with light
and even when living
is rife with problems
love has a way
of easing the burdens


crows change shapes
keep close to sky
make believe
they aren't talking
to her
when clearly they are
she greets them now
smiles up at them
perched in their green canopies
and tries to understand
their messages of love
and the medicine
they came to share




©Odilia Galván Rodríguez, 2010


Thursday, April 01, 2010

A Poem A Day for National Poetry Month - Poem 1

mujeres de maíz



somos mujeres de maíz
nacimos de semillas
de todos los colores
de lluvias de fuerte amor
de polen, color de sol
brotamos de nuestra tierra
madre roja, como la sangre,
tallos verde-amarillos
tiernas como toda vida
nueva y sin experiencia
somos mujeres de maíz
de raíces profundas
anclados a los ancestros
con zarcillos iluminados
nos transmitan las historias
y la misión de nuestra gente
de proteger la creación
porque somos solo una
pequeña parte de nuestro
gran universo estrellado


women of corn

we are women of corn
seeds born
of all colors
from rains that come
from strong love
from pollen, the color of sunshine
sprung from our land
our mother red as blood,
yellow-green stems
tender as all life
new and inexperienced
we are women of corn
deep-rooted
anchored to the ancestors
from illuminated tendrils
they transmit stories
the mission of our people
to protect the creation
because we are only
but a small part of our
great starry universe




©Odilia Galván Rodríguez, 2010



note: this is a quick translation from
Spanish to English - needs editing...


Thursday, March 18, 2010

I have been in California for about three weeks now.
I feel as though I never left and that so much is new
all at the same time. I was sick for one of these weeks
which gave me some time to just be still for a minute.
Here so many have what I call the, "crazy ant syndrome" or
CAS - have to be moving in many directions all at once. I'm
always vigilant regarding this dis-ease because once
upon a time it had me in its grips and the only way
I was able to escape it was to have a complete melt
down. Melt downs are a hard way to change your life
or to stop being a crazy ant. I choose to take more
or less control of my life so as not to get back into
that lifestyle which is so easy to fall into here in the
States.

The best part of this homecoming has been spending quality
time with my son Hawk. We've done some cooking together -
over the phone, if you can imagine that. Yes, while I was
recovering from the dreaded crunk (the flu) he called me up
to ask how to make black beans, white rice and picadillo. The
whole experience was so much fun and very sweet. I gave him a
list of the ingredients for each dish, we discussed amounts and
even in what order they should be prepared. Once he had it all
written down, he went shopping for the ingredients he was lacking
and then got back to his apartment and started cooking. He
called a few times during the process to check out one detail or
another. His questions were always good ones. My housemate Dee Dee
would exclaim, "That is so sweet!" every time the phone would ring and
it would be Hawk with another question or update. The dinner turned out
so yummy that he put up a picture of his served plate on his facebook page.

Sometimes we must turn off the phone, the internet, the TV or whatever other
external objects keep us from ourselves, from giving us the space to just
be quiet and go within. Introspection is a great thing and helps alleviate
CAS lol! So I will be doing more yoga classes and less of the things that
keep me too occupied to enjoy a cooking session with my son, even if it did
have to be by phone because I was ill.

レo√乇♥レo√乇♥レo√乇♥ yourself and others!

peace!

Monday, March 01, 2010

Thaw by Fiona Robyn





Ruth's diary is the new novel by Fiona Robyn, called Thaw. She has decided to blog the novel in its entirety over the next few months, so you can read it for free.

Ruth's first entry is below, and you can continue reading tomorrow here.

*

These hands are ninety-three years old. They belong to Charlotte Marie Bradley Miller. She was so frail that her grand-daughter had to carry her onto the set to take this photo. It’s a close-up. Her emaciated arms emerge from the top corners of the photo and the background is black, maybe velvet, as if we’re being protected from seeing the strings. One wrist rests on the other, and her fingers hang loose, close together, a pair of folded wings. And you can see her insides.

The bones of her knuckles bulge out of the skin, which sags like plastic that has melted in the sun and is dripping off her, wrinkling and folding. Her veins look as though they’re stuck to the outside of her hands. They’re a colour that’s difficult to describe: blue, but also silver, green; her blood runs through them, close to the surface. The book says she died shortly after they took this picture. Did she even get to see it? Maybe it was the last beautiful thing she left in the world.

I’m trying to decide whether or not I want to carry on living. I’m giving myself three months of this journal to decide. You might think that sounds melodramatic, but I don’t think I’m alone in wondering whether it’s all worth it. I’ve seen the look in people’s eyes. Stiff suits travelling to work, morning after morning, on the cramped and humid tube. Tarted-up girls and gangs of boys reeking of aftershave, reeling on the pavements on a Friday night, trying to mop up the dreariness of their week with one desperate, fake-happy night. I’ve heard the weary grief in my dad’s voice.

So where do I start with all this? What do you want to know about me? I’m Ruth White, thirty-two years old, going on a hundred. I live alone with no boyfriend and no cat in a tiny flat in central London. In fact, I had a non-relationship with a man at work, Dan, for seven years. I’m sitting in my bedroom-cum-living room right now, looking up every so often at the thin rain slanting across a flat grey sky. I work in a city hospital lab as a microbiologist. My dad is an accountant and lives with his sensible second wife Julie, in a sensible second home. Mother finished dying when I was fourteen, three years after her first diagnosis. What else? What else is there?

Charlotte Marie Bradley Miller. I looked at her hands for twelve minutes. It was odd describing what I was seeing in words. Usually the picture just sits inside my head and I swish it around like tasting wine. I have huge books all over my flat; books you have to take in both hands to lift. I’ve had the photo habit for years. Mother bought me my first book, black and white landscapes by Ansel Adams. When she got really ill, I used to take it to bed with me and look at it for hours, concentrating on the huge trees, the still water, the never-ending skies. I suppose it helped me think about something other than what was happening. I learned to focus on one photo at a time rather than flicking from scene to scene in search of something to hold me. If I concentrate, then everything stands still. Although I use them to escape the world, I also think they bring me closer to it. I’ve still got that book. When I take it out, I handle the pages as though they might flake into dust.

Mother used to write a journal. When I was small, I sat by her bed in the early mornings on a hard chair and looked at her face as her pen spat out sentences in short bursts. I imagined what she might have been writing about; princesses dressed in star-patterned silk, talking horses, adventures with pirates. More likely she was writing about what she was going to cook for dinner and how irritating Dad’s snoring was.

I’ve always wanted to write my own journal, and this is my chance. Maybe my last chance. The idea is that every night for three months, I’ll take one of these heavy sheets of pure white paper, rough under my fingertips, and fill it up on both sides. If my suicide note is nearly a hundred pages long, then no-one can accuse me of not thinking it through. No-one can say; ‘It makes no sense; she was a polite, cheerful girl, had everything to live for’, before adding that I did keep myself to myself. It’ll all be here. I’m using a silver fountain pen with purple ink. A bit flamboyant for me, I know. I need these idiosyncratic rituals; they hold things in place. Like the way I make tea, squeezing the tea-bag three times, the exact amount of milk, seven stirs. My writing is small and neat; I’m striping the paper. I’m near the bottom of the page now. Only ninety-one more days to go before I’m allowed to make my decision. That’s it for today. It’s begun.

Continue reading tomorrow here...

Monday, February 22, 2010

I may have made this up [again]




I may have made this up [again]

1

the earth quaked
yesterday in the Bay Area
as manatees and sea turtles huddled
in the southeast as never before seen
cold, chilling as tundras
beginning their descent
into meltwater jettisons,
seized a tropical paradise

and what of the great MisiZiibi
will it die along with most of its fish?


a voice from out of the blue...

but that's all
blim blam flim flam
o ms. hotty toddy
you can't believe
anything you hear
about anything
to do with weather
or anything about
anything
for that matter



2

boy looks up at the ball ring
while rulers stare down
from the stands
he's watching them
watching him
the game
he bumps with purpled hips
as he slips and shifts the ball
his destiny
the crowd prays loudly
for the winners and losers
thinking of that saying about
how losing you win
here winning, you lose too

3

flamboyant tree
seeding the wind sounds
roots the sticky threads
that bind us

chipped or stained
or waylaid
imperfectly perfect those
mistakes right themselves
in the river of spirit lines

old gardens look better from afar
their newly fallen pods percolate
with promise of new life
there are so many hues
from brown the color
of roasted coffee beans
to terracotta the copper
color of your skin

4

we refuse to be ant food
we rattle and shake
make the sign
of protection
of the four directions
imbed it skin deep
while thinking
O anthros
O linguistic mystics
you still trying to decipher
the wind?

relinchan pero
siempre son cerebros
hinchados, la mayoria
malcriados

pay with a coin toss
from the 1960's
that's just hitting
ground n ow
came
spiraling
down
from
the
Himalayas
just hours ago.


©/s Apaxicana, 2010






notes: 1. MisiZiibi is the Anishnabe or Ojibwe name for the Mississippi river.
2. ball ring refers to the ring that the ball had to be hit into in the Mayan Ballgame which had ritual aspects - for more info. see: http://www.ballgame.org/main.asp http://www.authenticmaya.com/ball_game.htm




Tuesday, February 16, 2010

essence of survival



ancestors
greening
the gray
mixing light
rain transformation
our creation
continuous
survival
our age spots
proof tattoos
of our out lasting the
death wishes
and life's blizzards
like contractable diseases
cyclones
earthquakes
famines
floods, the landslides
electrical storms
tornadoes
tsunamis
volcanic eruptions
wildfires and bushfires
and other natural disasters
even our own young and dumb
stupidity when we thought
we were invincible
still
we've rivaled destruction
worked at constructing
within the mezcla
with our egungun
the old reinventing
themselves
new within us
their wise eyes rising
from the red-brown
southern soil
color of hearts
buried there and
Ogun's breath helped us
plant the possibilities
blessing the mess
of collisions
of cultures
of the enemy within
challenging us to
destroy or create we
waited for the moon
to loom brighter
to spark omens
relay codes or show us
roads with new doors
or guide precision in our
decisions our thinking but
it was a vision
that saved us
from extinction
ancestors
reached out and
gifted us
the distinction
of their glyphs
their palabras
codices brimming
with power
showered us with
corn pollen knowledge
answers
if we chose to
listen


© Odilia Galván Rodríguez, 2010












note: glyph 1=corn, glyph 2=flower, glyph 3=essence.


Saturday, February 13, 2010

the distance of love



her mouth
a wound
vermilion
a fire
smothered
by miles, years,
distances and
dreams
deferred
desires
stirred
by words
and images
when she heard
him
say her name
enough times to make her
want to come to him and
then will they stand
faces turned in
the north wind
chanting their sin
of not having
believed enough
in love
in the back when



©Odilia Galván Rodríguez, 2010
febrero, Merida Yucatan




Tuesday, February 02, 2010

more 'ku train senryu _ _



more 'ku train senryu _ _

confusion

head-scratching jumble
a tumble from sky lights
jackknifing earthward


simmer

wear simmer perfume
boil and bubble your trouble
or just let it go


reason

she lost her marbles
trying to motivate him
but he just went home


suspense

sold, on tenterhooks
she looks past the glass to eyes
waiting to meet hers


haze


conglomeration
of taking in/on the pain
my state of being


plumage

lightly feathered fluff
a boa constricting views
from the naked eye


temper

she improves hardness
by mixing in compassion~
by releasing hate

she knows hers have survived
and heart cannot be taken


annoyance

ordinary angst
the stuff of everyday
that gets in our way


opposition

open resistance
going the distance holding
to your beliefs


admiration

with so much regard
esteemed beyond belief
more brilliant than moonlight


frond

her hair, wayward fronds
a mix of two do genres ~
mohawk and dreadlock


remorse

deep as debt ~ remorse
a hole hard to dig out of
not really worth much


plate/dish

broken crockery
signaled the end of their union
and shattered dreams


dismal

down in the mouf
it can only get better
if you want it to


© 2010 Odilia Galván Rodríguez