Bumper Cars

When our friends

in New Orleans

invited us

to their school’s Spirit Night,

we said yes, of course.

Our boy had never seen bumper cars before.

Fresh from our visit to neighborhoods

where beautiful old side-hall shotgun homes

stood shoulder-to-shoulder

with their blighted, empty cousins,

this crashing on purpose

looked a little crazier, even, than usual.

But memories of our own childhoods

complete with bumper car adventures

(crackling thrill

of electricity overhead

punctuated by sharp jolts

of anticipated impact)

outweighed his fears.

Our promise of safety

held true for one more day.

We drove and crashed and laughed

and steered directly towards

yet another crash.

No one got hurt.

And everyone went home smiling.

(Thanks to the women of http://3x3x365.blogspot.com/

for their continuing inspiration.)

John Keene's Challenge

(John Keene, who's tweeting for the Poetry Foundation blog this month, tossed out a challenge last night for folks to write a particular kind of poem, so here's my attempt. Can you tell I'd just been to a blues concert?)

Always
before, she had
come to my
defense,
even if we’d been
fighting.

Guess I
hadn’t realized how
Iong it had been since I felt
just-
kissed.

Last
minute
now, we
opened ourselves,
praying for the

quiet moments that might
restore our
sense of
trust,
uncover our shared
vulnerability.

What did I
expect? My grandmother sighing:
“Why are we given
zis life, but to work?”

(I want to be writing more,
and am grateful for the endless
blank page that is the internet.)

New Stories

(image via splityarn of Flickr fame)

Thinking that the person
who was calling
was you,
I dove right in
with endearments.
But she was calling about
some mail that
had gone wrong.
She was not you.
Was, in fact,
a complete stranger
with whom we share
a house number,
though not a street.

We got it all untangled:
the mail at her house
meant to be at ours,
the words in my mouth
meant for you.

And now,
both of our families
have stories
about me
speaking,
for a moment,
with such tender devotion...
to her.

Stone Haiku

Each stone on the beach

awaits the moment
when it, too, will soar.


(Day #27 of NaBloPoMo.
Thanks to the women of One Deep Breath
for their continuing inspiration.)

Rain Haiku

Starting and stopping,

wanting both to be noticed
and to disappear...

It rained off and on for most of the day today. I left both my cellphone and my camera at home, and felt out of touch.

(Day #26 of NaBloPoMo.)

(PS: The new Mac ads are up!
These are so good we watch a few before settling in to watch a DVD.)

Head Towards Challenge

Easy to avoid,
but much more satisfying
to miss by a hair.

His whole life has seen Mr. D abjuring the easy routes for the ones fraught with bumps and possible peril. As a toddler, he liked nothing better than to walk around and around the trees with the very knobbiest roots. As a kindergartner, he seems happiest when headed straight for an imposing trunk, which he then swerves to miss at the last possible second.

Have I mentioned my grey hair? It's quite lovely, actually.

(Day 24 of NaBloPoMo.)

Belonging Haiga

autumn slides in,
defiantly belonging –
brown wedge in the green

(Thanks to the women of One Deep Breath
for their continuing inspiration.
And here I am, blogging about autumn
on the eve of the Winter Haiku 2007 blog's inagural posts!)

Change Haiku

even my feet
feel the change –
cold bathroom tile

(Thanks to the women of One Deep Breath
for their continuing inspiration.)

Web Haiku

web across my face
as I walk to the street
and bring back the news

I have been working on this haiku for weeks. Every morning, as I am forgetting again that the spiders have a longer reach than would seem possible, I walk through a web face-first and remember that I want to record this little moment for myself.

I'm not sure this is the final version, but it's at least a version that I can share.

Working on it in little bursts throughout these first weeks of October has also reminded me of a turning point in my life as a parent. I remember how, in the first sleep-starved months, it seemed hard for me to hold onto a train of thought that was more than a few sentences long. Then one day, way suddenly re-opened and I could think again. Not all the time, and not necessarily deeply, but with some cherished continuity. My thought became like knitting, something I carried around with me and could take out at any moment to work through a few rows of a pleasing pattern. And so it has remained.

(Cross-posted at Autumn Haiku 2007)

Daybreak Haiku

I grasp my blanket
while the world rolls over –
daybreak already?

~ ~ ~

Tracing
the day's climb up the dunes –
birds and their songs

~ ~ ~

Cutting the deck,
sea from sky –
the sun's first light


(Thanks to the women of One Deep Breath
for their continuing inspiration.)

Peach Haiku

(Painting by Maria J. Smith)

that peach,
not ready yesterday,
was ripe today

sweet separation:
flesh from pit,
dripping juice

(Cross-posted at Summer Haiku 2007.)

(They don't call it the Garden State for nothin'!)

Wisteria Haiku

tendril by tendril,
the wisteria closes
my garden gate

(Cross-posted at Summer Haiku 2007)

Evening Haiku

Early August –
dusk lags back
to check on bedtime

(Thanks to the women of One Deep Breath
for their continuing inspiration.)

Contrast Haiku

Good luck, bad luck:
seals bobbing offshore –
the fisherman shrugs.

(Thanks to the women of One Deep Breath
for their continuing inspiration.
And to gulliver of Clip2Go
for this great photo of bobbing seals.)

Tote Bag Haiku

satisfaction –
at the bottom of my bag
a sharpened pencil

Momentous Haiku

dizzy with future
he stands looking at his palm –
first lost tooth gleaming

(I lost my first tooth while swinging on a swing,
I think, and we couldn't find it.
(Mom, is that right?)
I was so happy for D that he lost his first one
while on vacation, and in the presence
of lots of excited loved ones.
Time to go to the library and borrow
Throw Your Tooth on the Roof!)

Comfort Haiku

Calling back and forth
until the sun comforts them –
mourning doves.

(Thanks to the women of One Deep Breath
for their continuing inspiration.
Gentle thoughts for ODB host Jennifer.
The "comfort" prompt this week made me think
about the way in which sharing grief
can sometimes dull its edge.
And about how I have nevertheless
shied away from such sharings.
I wrote a bunch of haiku while on vacation;
please stop back soon for more!)

Shadow Haiku

giddy with power
we teach our shadows new moves
leaving them no choice

(Thanks to the women of One Deep Breath
for their continuing inspiration.)

Crawly Haiku

One daddy longlegs
makes a mountain of our tent –
we watch from inside.


"Ants belong outside,"
he announces, fist gently
cradling one.

(Thanks to the women of One Deep Breath
for their continuing inspiration.)

Rain Haiku

So tired today –
couldn't resist last night's show
(clouds across the moon)

Last night's rain –
not enough for puddles,
but such loud birdsong!

(Thank you to my partner T, who made the connection
between rain and birdsong.)

PS: New post over at Yogabeans!