Small Stone #31
Sick Day A sanguine smile as she scrambles into bed and points her feet at me. “Mawr,” she says one hand rubs her belly as she grins at the spoon. “Mawr ice-cream.”
Small Stone #30
carnelian molasses pools at the bottom of a clear glass bowl
Small Stone #29
On the ferry, guitar case under my feet eating raisin bread plain and by the slice.
Small Stone #28
Neon signs pointing the way to the restroom?
Small Stone #27
early morning, January fog fills the canal the hills of Queen Anne are a waking dream walk past the dogwood tree with the pink buds that never blossomed or died
Small Stone #26
the four year old in the blue velour sundress and red shoes shoves the big duck towards the waterfall and turns wiping her hands and nodding at her father, “I’m done here,” she says.
Small Stone #25
Powering the Fremont Rocket five point stars and dotted stars, the pointed sun and moon.
Small Stone #24
Raegan’s Chalice On a patch of ice forgotten in the green sea the redhead dances.
On Children Your children are not your children. They are the sons...– Kahlil Jibran
Kidlet is in her booster seat, digging into bowls of pickle, toasted flatbread, hummus, lettuce, and celery. Some days I’m not sure if I gave birth to a little girl or a Mediterranean rabbit.
Downton Abbey Recap
Thanks to Barry and Kiki at Pop Morsels, who published the recap I wrote of Downton Abbey, episode 3, which aired on PBS last night. Go give it a read and let us know what you think! Lady Sybil shows off her new pants! Photo courtesy of iTV.
Small Stone #23
blades of grass in a square glass jar
Small Stone #22
giggling under blankets hiding from the baby
Small Stone #21
too many white paper cups stacked below the coffee pot in this tiny waiting room
Small Stone #20
little brown feet in front of the fire and a big smile
Small Stone #19
little girl with the two dark braids kneeling by the fatty waters
Small Stone #18
red boots on concrete, wet and shining
Small Stone #17
Warm Spell in January It’s warm enough to sleep with the window open. Fresh air like early spring crisp as a cold glass, carrying songs of the birds passing over the mountains, the deep snores of tugboats, and other sounds at the edge of the city.
Small Stone #16
creaking chairs on the balcony
Small Stone #15
Talking Back You say I made-you-feel this way that’s like blaming the mirror for the run in your hose.
Small Stone #14
Teardrops on the touch screen cannot End Call.
Small Stone #13
Facing Candles We sit round on hard chairs in semi-darkness welcoming all hopes and fears spoken from the shadows. I am silent a phototropic organism bending but I can feel love in the corners grasping at me a blindfolded child at play.
Small Stone #12
Not a Fair Trade Self-respect for “harmony” - Is the wound in harmony with the gauze that wraps it?
Small Stone #11
Western Pond Turtle Neck stretching above the waterline chubby mittens clawing without symmetry swimming like you can’t swim desperately trying to tell me something from the other side of the glass.
Small Stone #10
Only Child Opening and closing scissors from the art box with two hands. Singing about flowers in the garden, tigers, ice cream, and dinosaurs.
Small Stone #9
At the Barber Shop Faux history on the walls History cut out from magazines no one read.
Small Stone #8
Two The widest person I ever saw turned out to be two huddled together silent walk up the hill after drinks at the bar.
Small Stone #7
Like Lappeenranta Through the round window: the fog fills in the spaces between the houses and the hills the scene out there is still as a diaroma and I am transported seven thousand miles away to that churchyard in Lappeenranta.
A Poem for Winter
I wrote this as an exercise at a poetry group. We all had to write on a similar thing: snow. Snow We returned to find dark earth slumbering she had slipped on the white pall her ears barely register the sounds of children giggling spinning at the swings their wet thumping leaving faint impressions on her coat shivering bundles drag gear up the hill now we see them, standing ...
Small Stone #6
For Nancy Two smiling queens crimson and plum take shade under a rainbow under the sky, one white cloud.
Small Stone #5
Round white belly on a red red couch.
Small Stone #4
“Anatomically Correct” Baby Doll She rolls into the front room like a wave in one motion, removes his diaper, drops it on the floor. Now here she comes, on a two year old’s mission. She points - a questioning look - I give her the proper names and she nods approvingly and says, with authority, “Daddy!”
Small Stone #3
Open Mic Night The man on stage right now looks like a pencil drawing of a disheveled Hiter.
Small Stone #2
So Pink Pink polka dots on black pants Pink shoes with purple fasteners Pink jacket So you Pink So you.
Small Stone #1
Inara’s First Trip to the Movies In the seat next to mine is your little stuffed pig his grubby snout pink and happy, Daddy’s dot paper notebook that records the precise coordinates of the notes he takes with his digital, audio pen, and one kernel of unbuttered popcorn. (For more on National Small Stone Month, visit the blog, a river of stones.)
For the New Year: Mochi and Nietzsche
It’s been my tradition for some time now to start my New Year’s morning off with this reading by Nietzsche, from Book 4 of The Gay Science: I still live, I still think: I still have to life, for I still have to think. Sum, ergo cogito: cogito, ergo sum. Today everybody permits himself the expression of his wish and his dearest thought; hence I too, shall say what it is that I wish...