London Days

Memory and time travelling here as I walk around knightsbridge with my two children. I lived here as a child,stayed intermittently as a teen,and roamed it in my wilder twenties. I'm now in my prime and it's all about the quilt show at the V@A. My single-mothered children are so fabulous, giving me time for my fabric passion. The show demands a few visits as each quilt reveals history and artistry through the domestic lens. The therapy of needle and thread,color and texture. I feel secure on my path, the healing of time, my artist eye will prevail and only lovers in my life--including myself, so to remember to keep my thoughts and actions pure, I gave the family protective strings from the kabbalah bookstore.

Walls

of our making, with our blessing, so we build them
to keep it all in and all out, all the bits and pieces
that make us call this breath and life
so the love that mingles, and our illusions
of other that turns to disillusion and pain,
the loss of our dreams that wash us back
against those damn walls again,

and it's no use wavering over whether
we suffer or not, for the water boils
over with the misery of our failures as one
and as whole, whatever you drive and whomever
you fuck, it all comes back to that moment
of how we chose it, how we lifted ourselves
higher or drifted into the lesser of all evils

to see the choices, the freedoms of ours
crashed into the bricks of decision
and so we live these ways, accustomed to our
failures, certain in our beliefs, assured of entrance
somewhere if we tuck it all in right and walk
the boards with a turned up chin.

sip the nectar

to stay in touch with myself
i traverse my open spaces,
filling my grace with the hills
that crest our waters and find

myself a park with rocks
flat enough to stretch me
to the daisies until only

my breath mingles with
the hummingbird and this
could be any day, any where
with anyone.