Everything broken--

Everything broken,

shattered

scattered

beams of light, torn by leaves

rainbow colors, light received,

strands gleam,

golden

olden

memories of thought,

shattered and bought,

as songs.

Hot morning--

hot morning

sudden silence

the cars' muted rush ceases

wind's breath

warm and moist

and a single brown

feather

barely an inch long

spins and swoops

hanging by an invisible thread

from the still green tree

8/21/01

Gladioli--

gladioli

thick

textured

color

7/4/99

(What? I like gladioli. Say it five times fast...)

I see--

I see

fingers pointing

they point at me

I think

I see

them laughing

at me I think

I want to crawl and hide

but then I find

my shell is shattered

I stand outside

a circle

peering in

but when I look

to flee inside myself

I find

I am an outcast

even

within

2-23-1998

(Ooo, genuine teen angst! See, I had a normal childhood!)

I like--

I like the feel of a pencil

smooth

knobby

gliding scratchily

across the page

5/30/98

I am sick of sound--

I am sick of sound

     screaming children

     pounding feet

     foolish quarrels.

I would like

to bury my head in a stone

and drink up a thousand silent years.

2/15/00

(I had an older brother who, like most oldest children didn't get along with my parents. Two younger and very noisy brothers and a sister with a voice like a soprano trying to sing over a fire engine. Srsly Anne, you were a shrieker.)

Garden Plans

I would have redbud
Wisteria
Chinaberry
Flowered and scented
No smooth green lawns
No clipped hedges
Everything wild and growing
Iris and roses
Wildflowers
Vegetables – full and good in the sun

(This was actually a list of ideas and things for a future garden. But then I realized it had a nice ring and poked it a little...)