Saturday, May 18, 2019

Resisting Rotting Balls

“Yes, the planet got destroyed, but for a beautiful moment in time we created a lot of value for shareholders.” From this cartoon in The New Yorker

50,000 golf balls

rotting in the sea
like fish (and most of Gaia’s clean jokes),

we hear their screams through our screens, and run
to the rescue, stumbling on wombs that resist
(always resist!) the threat of rotting balls.

via Pinterest

for the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads and Poets United Poetry Pantry
partly inspired by this NPR article

Tuesday, May 14, 2019

All Things Bloom in a Loved Garden

Last summer, right before I got very sick, I started stitching together some of the poem bits I shared on Instagram, in order to create longer(ish) coherent pieces to post here. Then came surgeries and chemo and radiation and… mind fog—my writing speed decreased, and my ability to see the sorts of patterns needed for the weaving of different ideas (into more) was sucker punched by cancer treatment.

I’m getting better… So much so, that the other day (while riding the most delicious of I’ve-just-gardened-all-day highs), I was explaining my updated plans to my Piano Man (talking at about a zillion miles a minute), when I noticed the widening of his eyeballs. I searched for the source of his startlement and found nothing. When I asked what was going on, the sweetest of all loves blinked several times, and said, “I almost forgot what it was like to live with a fully functioning Magaly.”

Yep, I burst into cackles. Not just because the slightly panicked expression bathing his face was the perfect mixture of hysterical and adorable, but because Im not even halfway to fully functioning (and I started picturing just how much bigger his eyeballs might get in a month or three). Also, because it’s so freaking wonderful to start seeing the reflection of my regained energy blooming in my lover’s eyes.

the garden poetry: All Things Bloom

Blues and stars bloom wilds
in the same heart.

When the sun springs warmth,
waves burst! blossoming halos
in a tulip’s soul.

All things bloom
in a loved garden,
even bones.

now, with the blooms (and skelly) that inspired the words:

Blues and stars bloom wilds
in the same heart.

when the sun springs warmth,
waves burst! blossoming halos
in a tulip’s soul

all things bloom
in a loved garden

even bones

Saturday, May 11, 2019

Of (un)Broken Pieces and Balance

“Balance. It was all about balance. That had been one of the first things that she had learned: the center of the seesaw has neither up nor down, but upness and downness flow through it while it remains unmoved. You had to be the center of the seesaw so the pain flowed through you, not into you. It was very hard. But she could do it!” ~ Terry Pratchett

the poem: (un)Broken Pieces

I love you close, balancing
all (through eyes and skull and skin and ink)
you and I, apart,
would forever feel our world
in broken pieces.

the wee notes

- inked to life after certain someone suggested that, “In all relationships only one person can be in control.” To which, I said, “For a relationship to work, everyone involved (who is mentally and physically able) must stand at ‘the center of the seesaw’, balancing the upness and downness of each other’s pains and joys and in-betweens.” Yes, I am the weird and slightly annoying friend who quotes too much.
detail from “Sun + Moon”, by Skyler Brown