(no subject)

It's a birthday for knullabulla! Hope all is well with you--we miss you, but know you're really busy!

(no subject)

For poetry month:



I know when I plant here
how little sun filters
these close-needled pines
how meager’s the sand
how voracious the blight
how melons rot
beans spindle
slut and centipede
succeed

It’s my instep though
the shovel scores
my fingers
the damp mulch shrivels
shedding seeds
in hoe-drawn lines
my neck the sun burns
as I thin withered losers
stake the strong shoot
my heart
glory of okra bloom surprises
cream trumpet, purple throated
pistil’s staff gold-dusted

with fat tomato
ripe in thunder
my tongue’s anointed
my throat drenched
juice crunch
sparkle pungence
sliced sizzled canned
a steam a jar of summer

and in autumn’s garden
I uproot
the mildewed failures
leaves cores stalks
I hoe to rot
next year’s compost
against sand & shade
beetle and mold

(no subject)

Best bumpersticker this week: "Vampire Slayers Against Bush."

On an SUV in South Carolina, too.