Sahara found

I don't know how or why or even when or if . . .

or. . . or . . .

hollow rooms in expansive mansions that cover acres

sand dunes run east to west

and chase the sun across the blue that fades to white and black

rebirth again

stand on my shoulders for another view

or give me a piggy-back ride for a change

disguise me with an abayah and hejab or maybe a shemagh (look it up or forget it by the time you've read this line)

but never with pride or fury or shame or pain

don't look at what you'll never really see

time wasted goes unredeemed

not for me

do I know you? or is it only rumors

maybe I've seen you around

in memories and fantasies and faint inklings

that tickle my neck and race down my spine

laughter inside that dances in the wind

mysteries and curiosities

truth?

only boredom and solitude

mistaken intrigue

unclaimed baggage on a turnstyle in Morocco or was it that place in Spain?

sickness a nauseating pleasure that I seek

in the furthest reaches of eternity in me

I don't know how . . . or why . . .

Peddler

the door won't close, it fits no more
before it was snug, just right
blocked out the sun, shut out the night

a traveling salesman stopped awhile
promised remedies and cures and potions
for kangaroo days or sunburns
& sleep deprivation or thirst

with sweet words and a charming style
deception complete
the price was paid
satisfaction? not part of this guarantee
the fine print lies, "only for a time"

she'd slam the door if it'd only close
too much inside, not to be contained
it overflows and repeats again and again

Tidal Wave

turn the tides
flip them over
& hold them in your hand
don't let go
roll them around
falsify a plan
make-believe or maybe just suppose
but take your time, or borrow from that guy over there
have a seat, or maybe you'd prefer to stand
don't forget, time waits for no one
sooner or later
the hourglass empties itself of sand
so don't take too long
decision made, let the race begin

Murano

Murano, another of the many islands in Venice, is world-famous for it's glass-making. The glass is everywhere!! It is really beautiful and even after seeing so much of it, I felt compelled to look in all the windows each time I came across it. It is all pretty similar, the styles, but the details are all different. They make all kinds of vases, jewelry, clocks, sculptures, bottle-openers, dishes and things like that, and so much more! It really is beautiful! The blue sculpture is one of many you can see on the island. I saw one other one, it looked like an over-sized abacus with the large beads made from the Murano glass, in one of the squares but I didn't photograph it. Sorry. I think there are a couple more but I didn't see them while I was there. I saw them online after I got home. Wish I'd have known so I could have looked for them. Another thing to add to the to-do list for next time.




I loved to see all the ironwork all over Venice. It was everywhere I went, really, but not nearly as prominent as the glass, lace and masks. It is very detailed and its on the gates, on the windows, fences, lamps, lots of places. I like to see the shadows it makes on the stone and cobbled streets.

Burano

These are some shots from the Island of Burano. They are famous for their lacework and for these brightly-painted buildings. It's a pretty small island and I didn't get to see all of it cuz the wind kicked up and the shops started closing. It got really cold and I was tired so I went back to Lido after a short while.

Stowaway

one-way ticket just for me,
female nomad alone in the crowd,
stowaway up my sleeve;

a million words will never describe,
every thesaurus so inadequate
the clearest photograph can't ever capture,
no film or memory card is capable

and yet....

for every step over every bridge,
laughter at my, 'Blast It's!'






through every shadowed alley and sunlit square or rainy rooftop and puddled lane,
my umbrella partner and confidante with shades;






on the boats in the biting wind and aboard the gently rocking train,
a shoulder for my sleepy head;

at the cheap hotel and sitting down to eat,

conversation just for me;

in every song on the IPOD and in the music of the foreign crowd,
whispered laughter and shared imaginings;



in all the moments of sitting or standing and just being still,
presence closer than Pan's taylored shadow;

on the bench in the garden, lying in the sun,
secrets on the breeze;
















look again . . .

that's where you were
that's where you are

with me
nomads & dreams

...The Very Next Day.... (as in "The Cat Came Back")

. . . The Very Next Day . . .
as in "The Cat Came Back". . .
on a whim
just for fun, curiosity too
& because she could
guardian on strike or vacation or high
why not?
seemingly harmless, almost innocent really
100 times before
practice, she had
on a different level, this one
clandestine rendezvous
inspired by an elegant dispatch
delivered via King’s messenger
imperceptive in her naivete
she went
gone
away
out
for a walk
for a while
oblivious and blinded
should have brought a cane
to stop the fall
to find the way
armor forgotten behind the door
down the steps
into a daunting labyrinth
broken clocks
hands salute & wave goodbye
as they smile
one-way ticket purchased by a stranger-turned . . . other
retired street lamps from a time gone by
stand guard on the deserted path
silent watchmen
no light for her
illumination of her own making
a match alone in the Milky Way
blackest nights, impenetrable obscurity
masquerade balls with costumes ornate
solitary attendee, by invitation only
no place to hide or be
immense & vast vulnerability
discarded charade of a story no more
no longer hers
to tell or breathe or seek
fraudulent memories
deception incomplete
so close
almost
nearly
such a masterpiece!
refund denied, exchanges refused
keep on, go
get lost
she is
gone
away
out
no bread crumbs behind her
devoured by once upon a time
that has dissipated
her shadow an impossibility
yet true just the same
drink up, swallow it down
walk on
evolution defines the morning light
stars whispering in her hair
caterpillars into butterflies
she’s lost her legs & gained her wings
hesitant and infantile then
marble and granite carved
soon forgotten sand & dirt
stems for fools unchanged
smiles stolen from a broken timepiece
criminal in mind, thief of time
only on
fairy tales unfulfilled & poured down the drain
attempted truths found the lies
to no avail
fantasy overflows, overwhelming stain
all-consuming ache
never the same, not this round
if only for the cane
all the way back to Timbuktu
Magellan as a captain couldn’t change courses
riddles & rhymes & childhood dreams
erasers instead of cures
verbal placebos on the black market in Mexico
mule or an ass, puddy or a tat
which one are you?
rehab under the big top when no one is spying
gymnast & clown & magician & queen
before sightless eyes
transformation unperceived
has been
will be
secret blueprints
Cheshire grins & conspiratorial eyes
Audrey’s sunglasses can’t hide
an architect in her mind
the world’s largest ball of yarn
wants only for the world’s largest cat
cryptic visions dangle precariously from her perfect
lips
unintentional on purpose, torture by design
starter guns began the race
disguised in ink & lines & black lace
that started for the 101st time
without the cane
mirrors lie & so do ’they’
but her middle name is Abe
so trust or don’t or stay away
ask the guards
but her and Jack are mountaineers
without a guide
revolution sparked by a passing notion
a child’s imaginings & endless blue skies
for the lady in waiting, silver refined
no more!
madness & sanity for the 1st time
put the straw down, look again
open wide, inhale, breathe
library closed, to borrow no more
from strangers’ tales or history’s lies
reflection in a crystal pond
sings life to her
lyrics now recognized
the forgotten cane, no greater gift
discarded time, her tale exists
tick tock tick tick
clarity inside, covered by silk, held in with lace
mystery, intrigue
guess again, truth or dare, just try & see
a hint of a whisper, desire lingers
in her eyes . . . look closer
before. . .
she is
gone
away
out
for a walk
for a while
for a time
or more . . .

Say NO to drugs

four lane highway all directions

rush hour before night

a long days events, a lane apiece

pain at the base of the neck

stop light, red, PLEASE!!!!

kangaroos on speed, it seems

the silence of a thunderstorm calls to me

exit 53, outside the city

take a right and follow the hill

lightning strikes and calls again

speed dial 2, that's me

madness of the mad threatens to engulf

70 or 80 at least, then maybe, just maybe, peace

a chance worth taking, a coin worth flipping

life at half-speed only a gypsy dream

to a hazy mind full of balloons

slowly madness fades, haze recedes

trade the viper for a falcon

I slip away, unseen