I took my dream to the Orchid,
exhaled it
and laid it on her threshold.
Orchid inhaled it
and looked at me quizzically.
It was slightly unnverving;
I tried to remember the smallest details
to see if I had omitted something.
The sun set and rose
but Orchid did not even blink.
At long last she nodded
and I gathered my belongings
and inhaled.
Breathing was good
as I stepped into the sky.
Clouds streamed by.
Rains fell.
Dragons smiled at me
and gave me rides
to the very end
of the sky.
Beyond it
the slow smoke
from a Denny's
serving breakfast
all day.
If you can
get breakfast all day
you can make a fresh start
anytime.
Hungry?
September 2007 Archives
Today
I beat the sun up:
Lazy
bones is still snoozing
somewhere
over the horizon,
comfy
and warm
under
this blanket of soft grey clouds.
I
stand outside with the cats and the dog.
They
beat me up, but not by much;
breathing
warm and whispering in my ear
they
invited me out with them
to
enjoy the rain-wet yard.
It
is too early for the other houses.
Like
the sun they slumber
with
their dogs, cats, humans, and hamsters.
If
there are whispers,
they
are too small.
A
huge crow,
sitting
alone on the highest roof top,
tears
a raspy caw from its throat
and
hurls it into the sky
with
solemn authority.
Then
it flies close over us.
in
the thick damp we hear
the
whooshing wind
wrapping
the flapping wings.
I
have not heard that before.
The
deep green of the cedar ripples slightly
in
what passes as the breeze,
while
the leafless branches of the apple
do
not acknowledge the wind
but
tremble under the slight weight
of
the mockingbirds
who
are back (first sighting this Spring!)
to
appraise last year's nest,
check out adjacent properties,
watch the cats
skulk
through the glistening grass
with
their dainty, high stepping deliberate walk,
stopping
occasionally
to
stare at a front paw,
before
shaking the water from it.
The
dog comes back to the porch
after
snuffling the yard for the smells of night,
not
caring if her feet are wet.
She'd
just as soon go for a morning swim
but
the beach takes a car,
(her
license does not include driving privileges)
and
her pool rests on its side against the garage,
useless
and forlorn,
a fallen blue moon
sinking
into a green nasturtium sea.
The
drowsy sun peeks over the clouds
sending
a flood of light into the yard.
The
cats come back
and
stare, with the dog, at the door,
whispering,
"Breakfast..."
Copyright
2007 Spring Deborah
Bolle
I could be good at clearing a library’s kid’s 'story time' by telling how “I was attacked by a shark, this long scar is where he took the first bite to see if I was tasty or old chum.”
<Here a short digression into the horrors of chum.>
“And this scar is where he tried to bite my head off, but missed and instead ripped open my chest. To force him to let go I pushed my swimming goggles up his nose, which really made him cross. He swam in a circle around me for about 15 minutes, though it felt like an hour, all the while looking at me with evil in his eyes and goggles in his nose. Then he <dramatic pause> <in a VERY LOUD voice> swooped in and chomped off my leg!”
<at this point I stand up and lift my leg free of my prosthetic, which clatters to the floor. I move my arms in imitation of a giant mouth, fingers for teeth, and make "Aaaarrrrgggg" sounds as I pan across the room. Of course, having only one leg, I immediately fall over, no doubt into a folding chair that makes a crash and adds to the pandemonium.>
At this point the children run screaming from the room with their arms held high and hands flapping, screaming “Ahhhhhhh”. Worried mothers peek around the door…
Sheer beauty.
c 2007 Deborah Bolle
N.B.: The description of my body is accurate, but the description of how it got that way is not.
This morning, as I lay on the fine horizon between dream and wake,
Cat, tired of waiting, sat next to me and began grooming.
Her whiskers, moving against my arm,
Felt like a lot of graceful, long legged, happy spiders
Having some kind of dance party.
c 2007 Deborah Bolle
wind
light
rock
water
forest
skin
feet
hair
blood
sweat
smell
lick
me
head
finger
arm
breast
leg
hold
you
sweet
beauty
chant
sing
music
together
we are a symphony
trudge through garden
worship language
ask why
think about chocolate
let live
luscious petal shines through the mist
tell the rose: love
c 2007 Deborah Bolle
Old man with a brick
to keep the wind from blowing
his papers away.
© 2007 Deborah Bolle
I awake from gentle sleep.
I
feel you stir:
Stretching,
turning, smiling.
I
smile, too, and embrace you,
Enclose
you with love,
Sense
your heartbeat,
And
treasure the warmth we share.
In
these languid moments
I
wonder of your future
And
await your first breath.
Then
hurry to the bathroom.
Deborah
Bolle c 2004
I lie still and watch you
as the room brightens.
We have slept as a pile of kittens
arms and legs impossibly tangled;
heads ioll back, then our lips
find each other for a kiss.
Sometimes a quick kiss,
sometimes a lingering kiss,
and occasionally someone's
tongue slips into
the other's mouth
for a little sucking.
We might not awaken
with the sweetest breath
but it will be our breath
and we won't know
if it is sweet or not,
and we won't care.
Those moments we rouse
during the night are fleeting;
just as quickly we are
sleeping deeply again
just like kittens roll without
bothering to open their eyes.
But my eyes are open
watching your sound sleep.
Your skin glows more brightly
than the morning light.
My hand gently covers your heart
tha-thumpimg its way to morning.
Breathing your sweet breath.
© 2007 Deborah Bolle
