Monday, August 06, 2007

Crayon Clouds

What cloud islands today! Just how
a child I could have borne by now
would draw them, in all their crayon perfection
of loose-loop tops and crooked bottoms. Each
seemingly a nation, floating soft
in July blue.

My mind-scissors cut out
a piece of the parchment air –
I run to tack it to my internal refrigerator.
I want to rush home to hold her:
light long curls and a serious mouth,
a hug all arms and legs and weight
of total trust. Such heavy invisible love.

It’s not the first time this figment-child
has drawn me. I carry her
in hip-saddled grocery bags
and tell her of the castles along I-74, those
tall and grey and royal silo kingdoms
surrounded by green more Ireland than Illinois.

Yet, she is only me sometimes,
wanting mommy stories and a magic eraser
for all I wish I did not have to know
or fear
or hate.

To think I may have found the backdoor
to my own innocence…
laying under all these words.

Thursday, August 02, 2007

Early Morning Sighting

Through fuzzy eyes, the International Space Station was seen by one just-caffeinated dj in the parking lot of Spirit 95 studios at 5:46 a.m. Wednesday. It amazed the humble early-riser to contemplate the view from that point of light - how all her familiar surroundings of buildings, county, state would be indestiguishable from there. That smoothly-sailing light won't even slow down if passes over the birth of a child whose mother was contemplating abortion just a few months ago, the death of a grandmother in Texas, or a group of Christ-believing Taliban prisoners. The dj turned her face back to the earth, feeling very small, yet somehow one with the universe. Before walking from the parking lot in a renewed frame of mind, she raised her eyes once more and said, "Stacey says hello!"

[dedicated to my friend Stace, who has inspired a little more sky-watching than usual.]