w.w.w.

Pues, yo resolvé gustar mi lugar nuevo antes de mudando, pero la verdad es, !me encanta!

Así, una lista corta de las cosas me gustan hasta este momento:

-yoga classes! and dance! and a free Y membership for the month
-biking to get around!
-biking to the reservoir. running and hiking on the trails there.
-new people, new friends.
-seeing guys in their 20s. everywhere. unreal. and women too. come on!
-frozen yogurt. duh.
-farmers market, of course.
-hearing spanish. speaking spanish. latinos.
-tres universidades!

There's something about mountain biking
that makes me feel more like a woman,
strong and beautiful and life-giving

Something that lets me unashamedly wear a sports bra and no shirt
even though my back is dripping with sweat, & my navel is not perfect

And when my legs pedal faithfully
up hills both daunting and mere--
I hardly care that my calves are covered in bruises from the pedals,
my knees stained by the chain,
my thighs powerful, not slender

Because this is my body,
and it does incredible things
daughter of Havah, I honor the Maker.

views from my state

lavender cobwebs

let me tell you a story, son,
about last friday, at the mosque
we covered our hair and torsos, bright flaming scarves
we knelt with the other women, we greeted the men
we shared rice and lentils and sodas with the leader afterward
taken aback by the unassuming hospitality
so many of our perceptions shattered, we were welcomed.

let me tell you a story, daughter,
about wednesday in the psychiatry ward
the lady talking to us with towels covering her face
the whispered curses by the walking ill
the one obsessed with death

and her, called Dreamer, confirmed catholic & white witch conglomerate,
interested in buddhism & physics,
smart & young & manic

and him, facing the window, legs crossed
radio-headphones-set covering both ears
and i can hear kelly clarkston blaring from across the room

and i breathe. i breathe so i don't die.

after work i found hippie hill,
stumbled across it really

a cute boy invited me to play frisbee
but i shyly shook my head, smiled

so many men--the remnant anarchists, camping and smoking--
not Thoreau and Emma Goldman but dirty self-styled gypsies
drum circles and backpacks and alcohol

a fight nearly broke out
shouting & curses exchanged
culminating in a surrendered wallet
by a man in a tie-dyed shirt
and i sang in tongues i do not know
i sang to the beat of the drum
to the wheels of the bike
to the clean red-haired boy of 10 (why are you here, son? is that your dad?)
to the guy asking me for a cigarette with sleazy gestures and calls

oh ancient days--oh lengthening evenings!
i sit cross-legged in the light; i observe
eucalyptus light.

my new Sierra heart

so much snow--6, 7 foot tall banks of white
on mirroring couches, friends draw close
yes, i'll have another glass, this gladdened heart.
in the mountains, you joyfully forget the old pace
you walk free and easy
each breath of thick winter air filling those forgotten spaces
in, out. you are alive.
welcome to the silence. to the shared journey.
welcome to the beauty & disaster
to that intimacy you've been begging for.

on the roof we read a script of sacred words;
we sing disjointed, ardent songs
under waxing moon and cloud-shrouded stars.

thanks be to G-d for the difficulty and softness of our days--
thanks be to Goddess for carrying us forever in her arms.

enlarge our hearts! we cry
but oh, how i love protection!!

ocean-veins

Take a picture with your words
these mounting tides, these shining barnacles, this ancient pool
this stone and salt and wind
& all the all the all the light.

Tumbling waves, rocky coast
stains of piss and alcohol
memorize these patterns, son. Memorize, memorize.

The labyrinth of stones on this sacred ledge
new & sweet languages ringing in my ears
and that bass rebound!

On rock altars, & you can hear
the snare drum of surf, echoing, erupting
reaching such great heights--rebound off the rock, time and erosion, repeat.

Oh child, feel how the air is thicker now
how it thickens all around you.

And there are places, oh there are places,
where everything is on a different scale, a different dimension, even
And I'm telling you, the largeness of it all is dizzying

Growing up in that island town, did you heard the foghorns?