The large GROUP refused to SPURN the smaller one, for even if it gave the many the UPPER hand, it was unnecessary and cruel.

Georg’ann

WATER flows beneath.
SUPER thrills from UPPER ledge.
Stick race in motion.

Heather

FORGE a heart so strong
REACT not to the provocations
The REACH of love is long

Georg’ann

Warm WATER cascades
down my body, within
a glass capsule, out of REACH

Heather

The day had been a bit of a TRIAL. That statement, unfortunately, could be said about far too many of her days. As she pulled a KNIFE out of the drawer, she wondered how she was GOING to keep up a façade of normal. Or maybe she could SWING in the opposite direction and stop pretending. Would that be a disaster? She gently touched the top of the cake. Cool enough, she decided. These next months were going to require some thought. Well, sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof, she thought wryly. And then, she almost laughed out loud. Quoting the gospel of Matthew was probably not a good sign. Or at least an odd sign. As she went through the motions of continuing her baking project (gathering ingredients, pulling out a bowl), a whole series of images in her head were CUING up. The confectioner’s sugar formed little clouds of white dust as she measured it out and began blending it into the butter. But her mind remained elsewhere. She imagined friends with puzzled faces, heads turning as she quoted whole passages from one religious text after another. She would definitely be signaling stress. Shaking her head, she began the delightful process of ICING the cake. A soothing, familiar activity that released all worry and settled her gently and firmly into the present moment.

Georg’ann

Pudgy little hands exert FORCE
squeezing the silver CLAMP.
Walnut breaks open, sharp pieces
scatter across the table.

Long fingered, bony hands press
lemons, rolling them back and forth
against the black countertop
to get them really JUICY.

These hands take turns beating
sugar into softened butter
whipping up ICING. Together
creating a layer cake so sweetly.

Heather

Let’s PAUSE the film – I feel like we are STUCK in a moment, and I think we should take advantage of it. This movie is about to take a dark turn. I am betting, given the change in the SOUND of the music, that we are about to encounter the titular giant SQUID. I want to get more popcorn before we get to that part. Well, and also I would like to discuss which character we think is going to die first. What do you think? Am I right?

Georg’ann

Visiting my artist friend.

We met at your home,
conversed the day away.
A PAUSE of everything,
nothing else but us.
I brought you imported pasta.
Knew you’d appreciate its artistry.
Each bow tie striped
in rich shades of green, ochre,
magenta and black. Precise lines.
Together pondering the extraction
of SQUID ink. Then wandered
far and wide in the world of form.
Reverberating off one another,
reveling in all that is creation.

Heather

It’s Polar Vortex Time

What’s in STORE for us, my love?
Winter winds will blow, POWER could go out
LOWER temperatures will surely keep us in
Let’s make a cozy BOWER in front of a fire
And dream of hot green days
when we need the MOWER,
when we spend sultry hours on the lake,
taking turns being the ROWER.
Let’s huddle under the blanket
And keep each other warm!

Georg’ann

No PRICE for taking
time to RELAX. Let winds guide.
ROWER, set down oars.

Heather

Looking for a SPICE or herb has become, on occasion, a bit of a nuisance. On the rack where the jars sit, nothing is in alphabetical order. There are nooks and crannies on the counter where extra bits as well as the overflow from the rack reside. And then there are less frequently used and exotic items in the pantry. As someone who relies on visual memory for finding things, it can feel like a barely held together order. It could be tidied, and I suppose I will do so someday. But when it doesn’t annoy me, the truth is having to search for things slows me down and makes me ponder. Occasionally, the SIGHT of one herb next to another serves as a spark of inspiration. Perhaps it’s a bit SILLY, but the helter-skelter quality of my spices and herbs can feel rich and abundant, quirky and distinctive. A cabinet of curiosities in the kitchen, if you will. I think that I will keep it this way a little longer.

Georg’ann

In the playroom she took my ORDER,
served me a layered felt sandwich
with wooden beet and carrot soup.
Her sous chef, a teddy named PATCH.
Later we danced with colored SILK
ribbon twirling around the room.
Never tiring of being SILLY.

Heather

A familiar PLACE to be:
Speak, PROVE oneself worthy!
Plain PROSE best, yet —
Still feel nervous and small,
As if solo and spotlit on
A stage, about to declaim
In unfamiliar poetry

Georg’ann

No CLEAR answers to summarize,
a BRIEF with nothing to PROVE.
And yet, being PRONE toward
discernment, I lay out the dilemma
piece by piece in careful PROSE.

Heather

I give up. Nothing is forthcoming – more time and imagination is needed to EQUIP my brain. My words – a series of non-sequiters call up non-sense and silly rhymes: the thrill of a TRILL, LAITY filled with gaiety, and the GLINT of a FLINT. I give up indeed!

Georg’ann

No JUICE in my tank
Nothing left to BRING
Can THINK no longer
This FLINT won’t spark

Heather

I felt WEARY as we walked into the beautiful building. So many trips up to the state capitol, trying to put our own STAMP on the laws of the land. You and i reminisce about the time, many years ago when we walked in, an army of mostly moms, babies, toddlers, midwives. It was our training ground, where we started learning how to navigate the halls of power. And now, 20+ years later, I COACH a younger generation (some young in years, some in experience), as we were coached before. My weariness begins to lift, we are energizing each other with our clear united purpose. We do not judge the decision makers (no obligation to name a fraudester or a QUACK). We recognize that any one of them is a potential ally or champion. We stand together – BLACK, white, young, old, across class and education – a new army of ordinary citizens. It is a joy to see the faces light up, as the newcomers realize there is no special KNACK required to navigate the halls of power, no brilliance needed. We bring honest representation of our own lives; we speak to the consequences of decisions made behind closed doors. And light – we shine so much light into the dark corners of this building! We are truly stronger and more powerful together.

Georg’ann

How sad he’d be to know

Intern arrives with a winter BEARD.
From under a cap coarse curls escape.
He wears a plaid flannel shirt.

These three things form
a disquieting CHAIN of associations
to someone else, throw me off.

Distracted by feelings I do not want.
SCANT dose of dormant poison
activated.
Past has a KNACK for surprise arrivals.

Heather

Dressing up, the first time

CLASP catches and
The necklace falls into place
Anxious glance,
Uncertain smile
Gentle reassurance
Not TACKY at all, my dear
It’s quite FANCY and lovely

Georg’ann

FIRST sound to greet day
FLOCK of geese. Honking chorus,
FANCY navigation.

Heather

The NOISE rising up from the factory meant that everyone was pushing to surpass this week’s QUOTA. There was a BROAD expectation that the foreman would make good on a promise to reward everyone on the floor. Sarah has even brought her good CLOAK instead of her usual, everyday coat. She was really hoping that the reward would involve some sort of going out on the town. Life had been way too dull lately, and she was itching to have some fun.

Georg’ann

Cold night downtown, someone
hunched over the street planter
searching through the snow.
What was lost, was it FOUND?

Dear figure draped head to toe
with a tattered quilt,
your warm invisibility CLOAK,
days later I see you still.

Heather

It was normal for her to take a little stroll when struggling with an idea. So this morning was not unusual. Thinking that a nice little AMBLE might clear a few cobwebs away, she laced up her boots and grabbed a sweater. As she strolled along, her mind began to wander. How was she going to resolve the question of the SLAIN vicar being discovered at the local cantina? This new plot was not yielding up its secrets very easily. She sighed. Was there such a thing as a poisonous LARVA? Could swallowing a worm in mezcal kill someone? Ugh. She was probably going to have to do a TOTAL rewrite. Her agent would not be pleased.

Georg’ann

My own voice soothing
me, murmuring “Oh HONEY”.
Moving, then, into meditation.
Or attempting, as is the practice.
At first sitting stiff, like a BOARD.
Find my FOCAL point, beginning.
Until that bright red cardinal lands
on a branch in the periphery.
Is he not worthy of my attention
pulling me out of thought
and into presence. Still alert,
I soften. Breathe fully.
Belly rises, shoulders lower
TOTAL absorption in the moment.

Heather

Saturday Morning

It made it all WORSE, taking the BLANK slate of her mind in the morning, filling it with headlines and stories

As if she had tried to add a PINCH of salt to a bowl, and instead, the whole container had dumped out, ruining the dish.

Outside, winter filled the world, looking DINGY and bleak. Some unknown critter had opened the suet feeder, dumping the contents out, lost now in the snow.

A fat wren poked through the snow-covered feeder, a red cardinal swinging on a branch nearby.

Georg’ann

Deep layer of new snow.
From window only a TRACE
of what lies beneath.
Hesitant to SPOIL with boots
or shovels. Holding onto this
new landscape. Yesterday’s
DINGY world made bright.
Clean and sparse this canvas.
Vivid rendering of branch and bird.
Everything given a different form.
Precious as all new life
before the marring, the overworking.

Here this white covering,
there grey ash and rubble.

Heather

Walking along the shore, I wade into the shallow waters. The sun is sharp and bright. I am cautious, unwilling to go too far into the shadows under the pier. I can see where the little fishes hover, their bodies suspended just below the surface of the water. Long strands of mysterious green plants unfurl from the pilings, threatening to TWINE themselves around my legs. Like a WHARF where big ships moor, this old structure provides a safe haven for a whole host of creatures. Seduced by the promise of a glimpse into a strange and wonderous world, I inch closer to the pilings. As my toes dig into the cool sand, I shiver. Straining to see into the waters, I am rewarded with the sight of a pair of crabs as they CRAWL along. I stare, trying to record every detail of their movements and appearance. At last, satisfied, I turn back, returning to the firmer sands. The warmth of the sun is startling. I savor that delicious feeling of private discovery, grateful as always for the beach and the chance to walk there.

Georg’ann

Loud MUSIC pulses, lights flash.
Arms CARVE CRAZY patterns,
flailing like hoses released.
Miraculously no one collides.
No elbows CRACK into.
No feet stomp onto.
One man attempts to CRAWL
through the crowd
heading closer to the stage.
Here above the dance floor
I marvel at the movements.
Energetic chaos becoming
choreography. Intriguing unity.

Heather

She couldn’t quite recall the time or PLACE when it happened. But she felt so much SANER when she stopped expecting WATER to be turned into wine or for a tiny, tasteless WAFER to save her soul.

Georg’ann

Discovering the reserve sacrament.

QUICK duck into church
becomes my childhood playground
WASTE not the WAFER

Heather

In SLEEP, moving ABOUT
Feel a DRAFT, pull
Up the covers!

Georg’ann

I can always COUNT on you.
Our time together a BLAST.
Eagerly AWAIT a reunion.
Meanwhile DRAFT sentiments
worthy of cheesy valentines.

Heather

Dinner

A small SCRAP of an idea
A few of the USUAL ingredients
Planning eggplant and tomato
As the BASAL flavors
Some garlic, onion, of course
And two lonely mushrooms
(What else would I do with them?)
As an afterthought:
Green olives and capers
A veritable ATLAS of the
Mediterranean contained
In a single pan

Georg’ann

We felt the presence of some GHOST
mostly in the upper bedroom,
the one with southwesterly light.
It should have been so lovely
with all the windows looking out.
Huge beech tree with thick grey limbs
keeping guard of the property.
Yet nothing felt secure, haunted
as we were. Steps in the hallway.
Something there in the closet.
Our cat would STARE at the door.
Once the ATLAS pages turned
as if by a wind that wasn’t there.
Little things to keep our skin
tingling, knowing we weren’t alone.
Relief when it was time to leave.
Sabbatical over, we moved on.
Over the years we heard stories,
similar experiences there. Oddly,
the owner’s favorite room
was that upper corner one.
Her place to read, write and nap.

Heather

Up and down, ROUND and around
The birds jockey for position
They hop up the chain link fence,
As easily as if up a STAIR
They perch on a post, making like a SERIF
Constant motion, kaleidoscopic color
Against the stark winter landscape
I watch their exits and entrances
Through a SCRIM of snow on the screen,
While on the other side of the fence,
Deer (who must endlessly search
for a SPRIG to eat)
Watch with envy as the birds
Enjoy a free lunch

Georg’ann

Snow falls, wind chimes ring
HOUSE warm, still. SPARK stove for soup.
Herbs in pot, cut SPRIG.

Heather

Oh, January!

Sky has not been CLEAR,
Instead, a heavy snow COVER
A glass of CIDER, and
A few CYBER adventures
Make for a delightful indoor day

Georg’ann

Tiffany’s home office

Her computer STAND moved with the touch of a button. Often she would start her video conferences on her feet and then, becoming tired, would press the button to LOWER it. As the desk moved downward she attempted to move her body at the same pace, landing carefully in her chair, hoping no one paid too much attention to her sleight. Being a rather HYPER person by nature, most people were already used to some bit of motion from her little square in CYBER meetings. We laughed as she showed me her technique, which I employed later that afternoon in a meeting of my own.

Heather

I can hear the sounds of an old Sesame Street song in my head: “at the library, you will find books of every shape and kind…” As I peruse the shelves, the COVER of first one book and then another beckons. Head tilting, I try to ignore the newest TREND, the GLARE of flashy colors, the blurbs that boast. I don’t need to be a literary EARLY bird who is first to catch the next best-seller worm. A well-told tale, some beautiful language, the creation of a world into which I can escape, that is what I want to RELAX. Finally, finding a selection that seems promising, I settle into a chair, hungry for words and stories.

Georg’ann

We SCARF the last bites
of decadent holiday treats.
Play a round of Boggle, excitedly
anticipate a snow storm.
This is a day to DREAM, to dwell
in imagination. Conjure fanciful
futures while enjoying the present.
Allowing ourselves to fully RELAX.
Inside glowing and warm
as the small fire before me.

Heather

It was a MAJOR disruption to the household: someone dared to STEAL Cook’s best pot. Along with a handful of precious knives, the family’s wooden bowl (used exclusively for weekly bread risings), and a bag of sugar. Cook discovered the missing bowl as she prepped the bread. Her routine had been altered because of the holidays. And now, here she was, covered in flour, just setting up to KNEAD the dough when she remembered she hadn’t gotten the big wooden bowl out. First puzzled, then angry (“where did that new girl put the bowl” and other such mutterings were heard), then finally outrage and anger. What a kerfuffle and running about after that! The whole kitchen and then the upstairs swirled around like leaves in a windstorm! As they uncovered what had been taken, fresh exclamations and cries of dismay were heard. In the uproar, no one noticed a set of small, child-sized shoe prints in the snow leading into the woods. Fortunately, the stolen items all landed in the reasonably easy (though not necessarily CHEAP) to replace. (For while they had a staff, it was a comparatively modest household) It was only in later years, once the wooden bowl had been discovered in the back of the barn (gnawed a bit and housing a family of mice), did the grown-up owners of those shoes that had made the prints in the snow confess to being the culprits. Apparently, a complex plan to run away or perhaps to open a bakery for woodland animals or maybe some combination of the two had led to the thievery. It was an oft-repeated tale and a favorite of later generations.

Georg’ann

How might the SCALE skew
if I headed to a BEACH
off grid, on the CHEAP?

Heather

Growing up, I had a firm belief that I did not FAVOR either of my parents. This seemed to confirm the feeling that I had of not belonging in the family. Over the years, I have spent a lot of time unpacking the layers of this childhood experience. But even as I came to understand it better – followed by forgiveness and resolution – it nevertheless left me with DOUBT that I could experience belonging in a family. It has been a happy SHOCK to realize that I do indeed belong. I can still go back to that sad and lonely place, but I have practice at getting out of it. I CHOSE to take the risk of having a family, of building a community. I want to keep making that decision. I embrace the wonderful, difficult messiness of it all.

Georg’ann

Listen to woods, LEARN
importance of leaving HOUSE.
CHOSE long walk. Refreshed.

Heather

Ring in the New

I’ll DODGE the errors of the past, I think
Too much at STAKE, I realize –
for I am no longer a mere girl
or even in my PRIME.
I have less time in front
of me than before
I’m not looking to take center stage –
no high-kicking role in a fancy REVUE –
Yet any life lived well takes VERVE
and quite a bit of NERVE.
So let me pull myself together
I’ll set my agenda –
a new year has arrived –
I must make the most of my time!

Georg’ann

Perhaps it is yearning itself
I YEARN for. Contentment
NEVER aches in the delicious
ways of consuming desire.
Motivated to action, having
the NERVE to strive, to seek.

Whereas I begin this new year
accepting each moment, prepared
to receive what is offered
gratefully. Comfy in my covers
remembering my youthful self.
No hurry to move, nothing calling.

Heather

Once again, I LEARN that I do not know which LEVER to pull to make things magically okay. We run around in circles, the conversation never reaching a satisfying conclusion. My mind scampers like a LEMUR. My body wants to curl up like a hedgehog. There I am: simultaneously prickly and hard to pin down. How do I open and uncurl, risking exposure of vulnerability? How do I settle and be still, risking attack? I hug my arms around myself, searching inside for that little ember of trust. I breathe.

Georg’ann

BOUND to multiple realities,
sitting so QUIET before me.
Requires USAGE of intuition,
learned skills not very helpful.
No playbook for these sessions.
Together we wander shadows
Taking turns guiding, trusting.
She presents as six today,
brings the softest stuffed LEMUR
for comfort as we travel.

Heather

Feeling your hands twist and TWINE
interlacing with my fingers
So cold, STOKE the fire, dear
Get out some bread
(a little STALE, it’s true)
A few cheeses, a salad
We STATE our small needs
We talk about the day
We get settled at the table
Real life, not a set on a STAGE
We sit, our gazes naturally fall
On one another, oh beloved
I could STARE at you for hours

Georg’ann

  At the Norton Simon

Sculpted and painted women,
multitudes of moods, moments.
Among the reclining, working,
gathering, dancing, seducing,
serenely being, there is this one
calling out from her gilded FRAME.
Pale face with wild eyes.
Auburn hair moving outward
into darkness, bright corona.

SHARE a moist blueberry muffin
in the sculpture garden cafe.
Whole afternoon to SPARE,
we SNARE a secluded table.
STARE at passersby. Impromptu
fashion show, non still life
works of art. Guava trench coat
paired with clear plastic heels.
Family all in navy pieces. Curated?
Child around five in tweed jacket,
jaunty red beret askew on a bob,
merrily weaves through the crowd.

Heather

For just a moment, her mind went BLANK. Did she even know anyone here? Sal looked around again – she might know that woman with the AMBER necklace on. Tentative steps toward a table — no, all the chairs seemed taken. She felt her nervousness rising. This had been a mistake. Should she leave? Then, it started — the band picked up their instruments. The first sounds of a SAMBA wrapped themselves around her, filled her, pulled her to the dance floor. Soon, the only thing that mattered was the music, erasing any distance between her and the others. Seamlessly, the band switched to a MAMBO, Sal’s body following right along. No hesitation. No fear. No longer an outsider, just the sublime feeling of belonging, participating in the tribal joy of dance.

Georg’ann

Over time Carlos became
a WORSE and worse dancer.
Off balance, with an uneven gait.
Occasionally he still took her
in a close embrace. A few steps
across the kitchen as if to VOUCH
for his former self, a man
who could, though he didn’t,
GLOAT about his MAMBO.

Heather

A spell, a CHARM,
a curse, a wish!
Draw in new love,
settle an old SCORE,
ease aches and pains,
envision new paths.
DECRY it, if you will,
’tis very human to want
control over the
uncontrollable!

Georg’ann

LEARN what is known
already? WEIRD to DECRY
one’s intuitive path.

Heather

Oh, this is the time of year to remember: the WORLD has played a clever TRICK on us – from a tiny GRAIN or shapely bulb, we can grow marvelous things. Bring on the seed catalogs, the graph paper, the dreams of spring!

Georg’ann

Polished round stone, blue
ball marked with tan splotches.
The WORLD heavy in her hand.

Placing it in my mine to feel.
It’s cold, this weight we SHARE
while the TRAIN carries us
through fields of sunlit GRAIN.

Heather

where was once a hole in your heart
there now resides a PATCH
color bright, a dash of FLAIR, as
with care and glitter, we AFFIX
hearts and flowers, the childlike
appearance belying the import
life-saving, life-affirming
bonding us forever

Georg’ann

SUPER day, didn’t do a THING.
Vibe to rest seemed to CLICK.

Thought of dear friend, 1 year
a WIDOW, in a cabin retreat

with adult daughters. This year
less stress is the mode for many.

Avoided impulse to send
only some sort of text MAXIM.

Friends deserve more effort.
Proper letter penned, AFFIX

carefully placed stamps.
My hands sending thoughts

scrawled lovingly across paper.
Their hands opening, receive gift.

Heather

One who is AWARE can choose more consciously and kindly what to SHARE.
— a new saying

Georg’ann

Plentiful SUGAR.
Silky SCARF in hues of plum.
SHARE candlelit laughs.

Heather

I watch as a CRUMB drops, imagining I can see it bounce down the rocks. I hold tight to the rail, and a momentary image flashes: I see a body – my own? – catapulted over. What forces could SLING me over the LEDGE? To see the world as an EAGLE does for just an instant – then the feeling passes, and I return to the trail.

Georg’ann

Swiss Alps in my twenties.

FRESH air, high above the valley.
Making snowballs in August.
Traveling alone, so ALIVE.
Dared myself to take the
open air gondola, this small box
suspended on a CABLE, moving
from one mountain to the next.

At the hostel guests share
MAPLE candies, adventures.
Bathroom key attached
to a large soup LADLE engraved
with an EAGLE, wings up.
Tomorrow a train station rendezvous.

Heather

Every once in a WHILE, I long to put a STAMP on and mail myself to a SANDY beach where the sun feels like a SAUNA and the waves sing me to sleep.

Georg’ann

LA health club, so FANCY.
Wide RANGE of people,
space and equipment for all
ways one might want to move.
A koi pond, cafe, you know
there are juices, smoothies.
Free Andes chocolate mints.
Bit of a surprise, this indulgence.
In the bathrooms a line of sinks,
each a clear glass BASIN
almost levitating over their wood
natural form counter. At the end
an infrared SAUNA, more glass.
Brick walls, rubber mats.
Side by side we stretch
into one another’s culture.

Heather

The sheep kicked up its heels and bolted. The little REBEL looked to make a BRISK getaway to the garden patch where shoots of green still poked through the snow. Excited by the activity, the rest of the flock trotted after like a BROOD of baby chicks following a mother hen. Fortunately, the farm dog saw what was up and with a display of brains not BRAWN, cleverly drove them back to safety.

Georg’ann

Your WHEAT toned hair falls
across your cheek as you read.
Room AGLOW with morning light.
Table strewn with Sunday fare.
Newspapers mingle with jam jar
and butter dish, coffee mugs.
In the center, rising from detritus
a BAWDY red and white amaryllis
in full bloom. BRAWN required
of her long green stalk to hold
four trumpet blossoms heralding
glad tidings in all directions.

Heather

It’s here –
a life defining moment

STARE into the possible –
be with, do not force

Be grounded –
no need to QUAKE

Imagine a safe place –
a verdent GLADE, a
realm of abundance

This is not a battle –
no need for a BLADE,
soften defenses

Walk forward –
embrace gently the emergence
of tender newness

Georg’ann

Visiting Echo Park

Climbing the steep stairs,
a public walkway gentrified,
he tells us childhood stories.
So much happened here.
FINAL time these chapters
might be told. An aunt in LABOR,
each step excruciating.
Little boy temper tantrum
about wanting a bike.
Frustrated mother hit him
on the head, with a glass bottle.

To the left a garden. Back then
it was an empty dirt lot,
tall dried grasses to hide in.
Setting a paper airplane on fire,
he started a BLAZE. Dangerous

sitting in the midst of flames.
Firefighters intimidating, fear.
Years later gang fights.
When the BLADE came out, ran
home so fast, ducking into yards.
Spaces he knew well.

We eat tacos across the street
from where his father’s upholstery
shop had been, down the street
from his uncle’s auto repair.
Paper routes, candy stores.

Returning up the steep staircase
I see a clementine. Pick it up,
hand it to him. He tosses it
down the gully like the marbles
and rocks of yesteryear.
We watch the orange ball bounce,
picking up speed as it rolls.
This old man a boy again.

Heather