this is what we need

the smoke

it rises and fades

but doesn't go away

even if you can't see it

no more toxic village no more chemicals in my system flow in my blood in the water no more toxic village no more negative heavy dark cloud furrowed brow rain pouring down like confetti newsprint confetti that leaves a mark no more toxic village no more sharp words jab no more toxic village no more

snow flowers

in the morning the snow was fluffy white fluffy white kittens the down from the underbelly the sheep in the sky being sheared on my eyelashes the white melts

and everything is so quieted by it, the dampening of the wet heavy wet the blanket over everything the silent over everything pulled up the covers and gone back to sleep

the wind whispers in the still and is warm like the heat coming up from the ground that will waken the tulips

heart day

happy love day

yes it's the day of love and the cold winter snow blowing snow outside can't cool the warm inside the warm heart inside beating thinking of you and how it would be if we were together on this love day the made up day to sell more cards to sell more chocolate to sell more plush animals clutching hearts in their hands but still i want to celebrate not with any of those things but with the rememberence of the beauty of love of the power of love of the cliche of love and the warm so warm against the storm

just to see you and feel you feel inside the warm shiver the warm spread from my heart outward my cheeks all flushed with the movement of you the sight of you the smell of you close and just because love day should be everyday that we should always love our neighbor our family our friends even our enemies (oh but there should be no enemies if love was as progressive as weapons and words to stir us up in difference) but we forget cause there is so much going on outside that we can forget to reflect and feel not do not go not follow but feel.

sometimes when you get to the heart of things you find a hole

today is my grandmother's birthday, not the one who gave me my name and my dad but my mom's mom who gave me that gold necklace with the butterfly and the recipe for those date things that i make every christmas. today was her day to share with the groundhogs.

she would have been 87 if she hadn't been in that car crash, off the road on the icy mountain and its so hard to remember that she's not here anymore, not not here but never here will never be here but in my mind in my heart in her recipes that i follow. i miss her even though there was so much inbetween us we were never really touching minds/thoughts/ideas. she was always on the other side of the table but she would be proud of me, always proud of me even when i wasn't a big deal even if it was just child fingers uneasy on piano keys.

i miss her as a puzzle piece, the space she filled, the way i would always take for granted that there would be birthday cards in the mail or random notes on feminine stationary and the perfume samples she would get from the lady at the drug store and always pass on to me. how she would always bring cookies or cabbage rolls whenever they'd visit but i never liked them, too old, too stale, not enough butter/eggs/sugar/flour. the relief after they'd leave, the den back for us to lounge in again.

but still i miss her, still i would love to find her birthday cards in the mail, her voice on the phone, telling everyone that i speak french/graduated from high school/university/university again. she'd be proud of me today.