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for paige
pizza doughs rolled
and menus planned
simple beauty is in her hand
bellies full when they leave her place
green plants bloom in her wake
her loving beauty i so admire
her inner heart
her passion’s fire
her constant friendship
is like no other
she shares so generously
like a goddess mother
her quiet beauty shines so pure
her inner determination
and wisdom always endure
her playful side as big as sun
circles danced when work is done
damn! her parties are hella fun
she’s held out her hand for me more than once
but i’m not the only one to know
her thoughtful touch
in her quiet way and constant care
she’s helped so many
to grow and prosper
and this i know from being her friend
gentle beauty
is in her hand
it was after the war
that she reassembled things
sour tomatoes at the end of their brittle vine
it was after the carnage
and the raking of flesh
that she found herself alone
released like a nubile youth
except she wasn’t
the starting over wasn’t so bad
since everything she left
reminded her of him
sour tomatoes tasting the earth
pilgrimage of landlord interviews
dry roads of groaning neighborhoods
families splashing their lives in her face
until the last road to the tiny cottage
where she put everything in its place
her floors were clean
where her heart was mauled
her condiments organized
where her brain was scrambled
her windows sparkled
where her eyes were marred
and she grew a new garden
buried the war everyday with her spade
worked until her back ached
and the garden was clean of the enemy
this patch was all she had left
to put her fingers into
all she had that she could keep from dying
combat the memory bombs
grow sweet tomatoes
to pick
before they could turn brown
and spit sour mash
to reap
before they lost the war
Sleeping Beauty, Courtesy Sarah Curtiss
she didn’t know me but
she let me park in the driveway
of her tiny apartment
where she lived
alone
when i shyly tapped on her door
can i perhaps borrow a mixer to make cookies
she graciously invited me in
and gave me a tour
of her tiny apartment
decorated just so
with her happy green plants
and her sparkling clean windows
the comfortable chairs and the sweet wooden table
where she ate
alone
when i returned the mixer
i gave her a plate of freshly baked cookies
she was so happy
standing there alone
clutching those warm cookies
her kindnesses returning themselves on her
and in that moment
my heart loved her so much
that lonely generous grateful neighbor
in a tiny apartment
with such a big lonely heart
it reminded me how much love i could have for someone i barely knew, afterall.
Prayer Book, Courtesy of Sarah Curtiss
for janice
in the time it took to push the coffee press down
we had relived a bubble
experienced again a time we had laughed and rollicked together
that time when we saw the world from another side
of the horizon
since the 18 years I last saw you
your eyebrow still has that story
and your stance still of an archer
with a paintbrush as your arrow
pure heart even still
never lost by the Keeper
timeless quilter that weaves not our time
but the shapes of our gestures
the texture of our intentions
and the patterns
that may temporarily blind us but ultimately spin us
to new fragments of ourselves patched together
making new possibilities
timeless keeper of the sanctity of friendship
of sacred connection and kindred spirits
timeless keeper of the artist’s expression
clouds of floating creativity
that can only be lost by closing your eyes
and making a fist
you kept your eyes open, kept open your hand
breathed in the timeless keeper
not living on the calendar
free of the horologist’s dial
timeless keeper
where distance is unreal, where time is only a word
where lines are actually curves bending to circles
circles to spirals that breathe back to life
a memory
lost in the past
Goddess Art, Courtesy of Janice Rocke
the miniscule pore dilated and the gray shoot emerged
his wife, as cheery as ever
suggested another kitchen remodel
his work load was smothering him
he could barely breathe
or think
except in spasms of panic or deep concentration
but a bright exterior was what was needed
in this marriage
to keep Her from depression
That and a new Viking range
Once the pressure became too much
he broke
right there before Her
she quickly and coolly remonstrated him
the finality of an executioner
so he re-assembled
stuffed his crumpled facade back into his tailored suit
slogged back to the oppressive job
and clamped the flow of whatever he was feeling
he reminded himself of all that he’d helped create
three kids in ivy schools
the designer house
how lucky to have a composed and talented wife
it all looked so good
from the Outside
another grey root shot out of it’s hole
he was a perfectly trapped cock
being pecked to death
in his own pen
Conforming, courtesy of Chris Love
See more of Chris Love’s brilliant art at: ChrisLoveArt.com
