Away from my loves tonight, I am holed up in a fine New York City hotel room. A quick and fine work junket, and I love the City, but I am pining. 

A poem by my grandmother about setting sails for home. Love.

Gay little ship with sails all set,
Sturdy and trim to me you seem for sailing--
But I am your builder, captain, master, mate,
I cannot see the loosened planks that others find.
Full-rigged, untried, my little Spanish galleon,
Go forth to sea, to test your snowy sails.
If you shall find the storms are wildly raging,
You have no harbor whither you may flee,
Come, little ship, with flag upheld, undaunted,
Back to your shelter--sail back home to me.
Oh, for loves who are unperturbed by my loosened planks. You are my blessed shelter. I will be home soon.


cherry blossoms

My pal Lizzy Danger writes poetry and inspires others to do the same at her blog, A Series of Thoughts. Steady readers may recall that Lizzy inspired me to write a little poem about my grandmother's funeral (you can find it here). 

Lizzy recently put out the call again and I said I was game. Then she suggested that we both write a poem with the same line, "the cherry blossoms grew with pride," and see what happens.

Here is Lizzy's poem.
The sun rises on a new day
Peace is felt throughout
The beauty is astounding
and the elegance takes your breath away
You have been waiting for this moment,
for their grace,
their delicate charm,
their polished artistry.
The cherry blossoms grew with pride
Unaware of all they represented
The arrival of Spring
A glorious new day has arrived.
An untouched journey begins

And here is mine.
I drove in the dark
You and your friends
Up the escalator summit
Coming out in the bright morning sun
The day the cherry blossoms grew with pride
Pride evident everywhere
Throngs of happy people
Signs bearing witness
“I’m a lesbian too”
“I love my gay son”
And when we reached “God hates fags”
You said, kiss me
Kiss me.


two moods

My grandmother wrote these poems when she was in college.
She would have been 100 years old this year.

     Two Moods


     Love's not worth all the pain of poverty--
     The bitter hardship, trivial commonplaces.
     Why should I give up life for you,
     When he can make me happier after all,
     And love grows dull and wearisome at best?
     You talk of sharing sorrows, just as though
     They could not be avoided; whereas he
     Speaks only of the pleasures to be shared.
     I'll not forget I loved you once, perhaps
     But, dear, I cannot give up life for love.

     I can cut my hair, I can paint my face--
     I can make your love turn cold.
     I can laugh to score the things you say.
     All of a creed grown old.

     You'll hate me at first, forget in a while,
     But how can I live as his wife,
     When all I can see is the blue of your eyes?
     I'll love you all my life.


rush of love

I was sitting here staring at my screen, in a funk, struggling to write or really think, unable to stop a rush of dark chatter in my head. Then my son walked in and looked at me, in such an adult way, a look of pride and curiosity. Brightness. Told me a story about something he hadn't tried before but learned about and succeeded at doing. Animated. "I love you, Mama." Perspective. The glass is half full. Now I can't write or think, unable to stop the rush of love in my heart.



whatever happened, i apologize 
heart fragments
fireworks, chaos
gave birth to the dancing star
independence day