Directions
A sign, with a STORK,
Will POINT the way —
Just after the METRO stop —
Not far from the shop with
An OTTER in the window —
At the OUTER edge of the square —
But if you get to the café with the sheep,
You have gone too far.

Georg’ann

Your voice is SUGAR
HUMOR me with more sweet sound.
OUTER shell dissolves.

Heather

Meditating

In a meadow, with trees at the edge; it is all intensely familiar.
A place I have visited ever SINCE I began doing guided meditations.
It is where I feel safe to explore my self, where I can let my imagination run free.
I bubble up with delight and MIRTH:
I am in charge of this world; I get to PILOT this ship.
I can summon a goddess, visit the dead, play with my younger self.
Far away from the TIDAL shifts out of my control in reality,
I step into an inner expansiveness, knowing I will emerge restored and refreshed.

Georg’ann

The MRI nurse asked
what music I wanted.
“Oh None! I’m PRONE to dancing.
You want me still. I might wiggle”
She gave me a QUICK look.
Classic country played,
while the machine banged.
my toes kept the beat.

Later in the day, my sister
made SILLY jokes, asking
if I felt like a character
from a superhero comic.
Radioactive girl! 🦹‍♀️
Radioactive girl goes to the dentist!
A riveting edition. Makes sure
the hygenist isn’t pregnant.

We’re LIGHT, our humor VITAL
to surf this TIDAL wave.

Heather

We CRAWL along, stopping ABOVE the vent. STEAM from the kitchen below imparts a GAMEY aroma. Hit by a wave of nausea, I struggle to finish the scene. But it does end finally, and I scurry down the ladder to get away from the smell. Once we take our break, I join the other extras. “Did you catch that bit of realism?” “Yes!,” I say, in relief that I wasn’t alone. “I am not sure I would have signed up for this job if I had known the Director was going to add odors to the set.” Everyone chuckled, and I felt emboldened to ask if anyone else was going to the MEDIA event later. I have been flooded with insecurity ever since deciding to go undercover for this job, but so far so good.

Georg’ann

Hiking, woods so MOIST.
MANIC, until the trail calms.
MEDIA friend, thanks!

Heather

ROBIN on the ground
Cardinal in the tree
One with a CREST
One with a red breast
FERRY back and forth
Constantly in motion
Jaunty and PERKY
Sometimes a little JERKY
Delight the eye
And lift the spirit

Georg’ann

AFTER playing in the CREEK
a stop at the animal shelter.
Oh naive mother, you went
to the creek without intending
to get wet, and to the shelter
without anticipating adoption!?
You must have known.

And so you arrive home
with wet, dirty, children
and two adorable kittens
named PERKY and JERKY.
For your next outing
might I suggest a museum?

Heather

Nothing like breaking a bone, say an ANKLE, to lead one to SPOUT first a stream of curses followed by a litany of prayers. From foul-mouthed demon to PIOUS devotee in a matter of minutes!

Georg’ann

Please don’t POINT
your PIOUS finger.
There’s nothing righteous
or redemptive in your smug judgements.

Heather

In just a few days, the Sisters of Charity, staff, and residents would celebrate the feast day of SAINT Solange of Berry. The administrators thought it would be good for the treatment center to have a festival in May, and St. Solange had been proposed. While obscure , her patronage extended to rape victims, shepherds, children, and rain, she seemed a perfect fit for a residential treatment center in the desert. And indeed, the women of the community had been enthusiastic about this idea. Riding the wave of their enthusiasm, Sister Joan had willingly agreed to help. But now that the 10th of May was fast approaching, she was a little worried about getting the final bits done. So here she was in the attic. Sister Joan knew it should not make her TESTY, but having to rummage through DUSTY bins was not her favorite activity. She also worried about random RUSTY nails and spiders. Pulling
back a MUSTY curtain, she gasped. There in front of her, a painting. Beautifully rendered, St. Solange walking, holding her severed head, approaching the church where she would finally die. “How is this possible?,” exclaimed Sister Joan. “It’s a miracle!”

Georg’ann

Daybreak

Early morning walk, hardly a SOUND
Friendship compelled me to ROUSE.
Paused at a field of gossamer dew filled webs
suspended on the HUSKY stems
of last year’s echinacea blooms.
These delicate glistening nests hold
emptiness so perfectly my eyes spill.
Passing the MUSTY shelter house
we hear snoring in concert with birdsong.
Behind soft grey clouds the pink orb rises .
Light increasing even as mist falls.

Heather

Not a CHEAT to stand
In the SHAPE made
By the SHADE and
SHARE a game of boules
No SHAME in taking
A moment to SHAKE
Off the gloom and
To SHAVE off bits of stress
With casual, easy play
The very definition
Of camaraderie

Georg’ann

At first it was an isolated incident
here or there something lost
or forgotten, then more frequently.
Eventually DAILY occurrences
of mind slippage, our phrase
for the indicators of her disappearance.
She’d ask me questions
like “didn’t I want children”
as my daughter sat at the table with us.

STARE into SPACE, vacant.
Then randomly start to narrative tales
about the SAUVE man she met
that time on the boat to Catalina.
Or how her best friend in high school
asked to SHAVE her legs.
There was no way to tell
what wires were crossed,
reminiscence or dreamscape.

My father would say,
“the fact of these facts matters very little.
It’s the possibility of these facts –
that’s what intrigues me.”
We tried to tolerate her disappearance
by embracing the possibility
of meeting a woman we never knew.

Heather

I wanted to SHOUT, so relieved was I to get off the PLANE. This had been a long and tense flight. I really regretted the way I had packed, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something could still go wrong. Calling on the last vestiges of my patience, I made my way to baggage claim. Confident that I would recognize my suitcase from its LABEL and the colorful DECAL I had recently added, I idly thumbed through messages on my phone. Glancing up, it took me a moment to realize that someone else was grabbing my bag. Springing into action, I started after them. To my surprise, they started to run. What?? I picked up speed and tried to imagine what the heck was going on. My mind (and my body!) was racing, this made no sense. Yelling and running – sheesh why don’t people get out of the way??? There was no way anyone else knew what was in that bag. Surely this was an innocent mistake, but I am so screwed if it is intentional and they know about the artifact.

Georg’ann

Today is one for PAUSE.
Noticing how the gold and brown tones
of the wood grains in the coffee table
are reflected in my pant fabric
and the fur of the cat sleeping
on my legs, resting on the table.
We are still life.

The scent of warm BREAD and peonies
move in with my breath.
Siberian Iris line the path.
These ephemeral, delicate beauties
so sturdy in their brief display
are the flower I might like to be.

Out of the corner of my eye
I see the marathon MEDAL
you won, when your energies
could be exerted, extended
endured over long hauls.
Not constricted within confines
of a bodily rebellion, bursting out
in displays less rewarding.

Tomorrow I take flight
mostly know where I’m headed.
Yet fear hitting clear glass
on a window I can’t see.
Wish for a reflective DECAL,
the kind that protect birds,
to keep me intact.

Heather

We have done this many times, you and I. And here we are again: setting the things out, to make it easy to SHARE at the TABLE. As we move through the familiar routine, we chat about the long-gone days of having to prepare the space for children who play during a meal, treating a straw or carrot like a LANCE to jab at anything and everything. And then how those growing and grown children made us get more chairs, put the leaf in the table, make room for all the plus-ones. And then for their children. You have made cottage cheese pancakes; I have brought fruit and MAPLE syrup. Our families will gather shortly, bringing their own contributions in covered dishes, boxes, and voices. Oh how I VALUE this moment, these relationships, and above all, you.

Georg’ann

Long DRIVE to the state park
little girls in the back
talk of what’s in VOGUE.
On the trail they squeal
with delight at every dog,
and there were many!
River wading, horse riding.
Lunch at the inn, 2 for 1
still not a good VALUE,
they ate two bites and a sprite.
Exhausted from the day,
the ride home was silent
as each laid her head
against her door, quickly asleep.

Heather

Will you be my SUGAR?
Can I call you honey?
We can write a little story
TITLE it whatever we want
Take my hand
Stroke my cheek
You will hear me go CHEEP
Let’s intertwine,
Get all BENDY
On the EBONY bed

Georg’ann

SOLID as the wood,
you, PRONE on soft linen sheets
in EBONY bed.

Heather

I PASTE an image in the center – pleased with flights of SHORE birds that SLIDE under sunsets. Random pulling of more images, I add trees, overlay mushrooms. These fragments please my eye and spark my imagination. Unexpectedly, a sharp edge of paper – oh that silent SLICE across my finger! I watch as bright red drops fall, like indelible ink. In my hasty attempt to clear it away, I create a wet smear and wrinkled images. I sit and stare, overwhelmed by the sense that a part of me – my very DNA – is now locked forever in this collage.

Georg’ann

PLAIN bagel, please.
SLIDE on some cream cheese
add a tomato SLICE and sprouts.
Yes, very nice. Thank you.

Heather

The Blurb

The STORY of a girl named Candy and her love of a calf named BERRY. We follow their adventures on the Wisconsin DAIRY farm where they live, as recorded in Candy’s DIARY. Funny, heartfelt, a tale you will want to read again and again.

Georg’ann

Last night I opened a box
more like falling through a portal.
Inside a well worn babydoll
hair shorn to stumbled dots.
On her side a large calico heart
shaped PATCH, a tug of war injury.
Immediately transported to 1974
and the fight in the back seat
of my uncle’s wood paneled
Buick Estate Wagon
as my cousin attempted
to take possession of my baby.
Rip. Oh the fury and tears.

Next to the doll was a wrapper
from a FLAME red 100 GRAND candy bar.
I think it was a souvenir
from seeing Sinbad and the Seven Seas
at the Princess Theater.
So many sweet trinkets and bits of detritus,
whose symbolic meanings were long gone.

Under the rubble, a pink satin DIARY
with a tiny silver key attached by a very thin cord.
Amusing to think of lock and key
kept together all these years.
For a little girl the fun was in the action
of turning the key to guard or reveal
the secrets contained within.

It would be many years ahead
that significant practices
of protection were necessary
for my inner realm.

Heather

James was not labeled “The Shark” because of his gray suit. He was one of the sharpest strategists in the political world. In this moment, instinctively AWARE of the need to WRING every last dime from the CROWD, James signaled to the team. They snapped into formation and began to PROWL, sniffing out the most likely to give and the most likely to get worked up and draw others in.

Georg’ann

Small, eager hands RAISE.
All want to join GROUP project.
Fox on PROWL, save chicks.

Heather

Assemble, PLACE, and begin
Daily I CHART the path for dinner
Discipline and practice of my CRAFT
Kitchen witch that I am

Georg’ann

Cat traipses through paint
Paw prints leave STAIN, CHART her course
CRAFT time consequence

Heather

There is no way to take COVER, to hide. These political events are knocking at my very door – my neighborhood taunted by helicopters flying overhead, as students and faculty fight to demand justice. I think about how for some this is a DEBUT into the political arena, the beginnings of figuring out how to have a public life, how to lead, and how to build a better world. I think about the contrast between my safe community, even with the incursions of heavy handed police, no bombs will fall, no famine will threaten, no snipers will actually fire. I know that in the morning, I will make pancakes, set out MAPLE syrup, read my EMAIL, and look to see a bit of hope from my position of safety. I am eager to see the GLEAM of new leadership, a way forward in very dark times. I reflect on my safety and stability – how it is not a privilege, but what we all deserve. I pledge to keep fighting for that to become a reality.

Georg’ann

We threw a PARTY the night before
my brother went to prison.
In the carrot cake a long file.
On top a decorative image of him
behind red Twizzler cell bars,
head pasted onto an orange jumpsuit
with a ball and CHAIN around his ankle.
Our family humor a bit ASKEW.
I was blinded by the sunset
GLEAM on the amber beer bottles
his long divorced parents
raised in a toast to their boyman.

Heather

Sitting in a bar at 11 am felt just on the cusp of wrong. What the heck is one to order? She supposed it felt too late to have a breakfast item. A good thing, since a lone sad DONUT seemed to be the only option in the way of a late morning sweet. And she rather suspected it would sit like a STONE in her belly. Did she want a fancy beer? Surely they had them. Maybe one of those NITRO milk stouts. Wasn’t there advertising once upon a time – Guinness is good for you? Lost in thought, she hadn’t noticed that others had come in. A hand slammed down on the table and a man slid into the booth across from her. Another shoved his way next to her, sitting uncomfortably close. With no preamble, the first guy leaned in, snarling. “What the hell do you think you are doing?” Pleased with herself for not jumping, Lacy looked evenly at the man known only to her by description and well, reputation. Her brothers had warned her this could happen. So she was prepared. “Not a very nice INTRO, Mr, um – what do I call you? are you going by Smith these days?”

Georg’ann

Juvenile penguins with a DRIVE
Jump RIGHT off a 50 foot ice cliff
plunging for their first sea swim.
Hard not to anthropomorphize.

On other cliffs, roads wind
precariously, no place to drive
an ARTIC, yet still they go
many tires gripping pavement.

Wordle play gave me an INTRO.
Letting my mind wander
in associations facts don’t support.

Penguins, ice, water,
Arctic cold
No penguins there
Artic is not arctic.
Artic u la tion

Heather

A TREND I would like to see:
OVERT optimism with a splash of joy,
Steeped in abundance,
Served on a bed of roses

Georg’ann

Dancing slowly, practicing POISE
as we suspend motion,
balancing on one foot or toes.
Arms reach and cascade like silk ribbons.
Movement from the interior.

DETOX from news, lists, worries and OTHER disturbances.
Spring is OVERT now,
telltale robin’s eggshells
cracked half on the sidewalk. Doves nesting in the eaves. Fresh mown and shaggy
not yet mown lawns,
abundant bugs and blossoms.

Lush and loud.
You have my attention,
and my gratitude.

Heather

The CHARM was BRIEF
How sad the day
When I discovered
My LOVER was a ROVER

Georg’ann

Sand, symbol, self

Each tray of sand, BLANK
canvases, soon filled.
Everyone comes with a STORY.
Lifting the COVER, a peak inside.

Hands HOVER, hesitant to place.
As if they know what’s being told
in bits of plastic, glass, metal, ceramic,
wood, paper, cloth, rock, feather or fire.

Yes, these fingers understand
that the mini moon ROVER
from the Toobies toy space kit
tells a tale of a loneliness

so vast gravity no longer holds.
In this one piece, suffocation
and dissociation hide in plain view.
The narration is child’s play.

Heather

DANCE madly
SPOUT artistically
Be JOLLY
It’s the only way to age

Georg’ann

Thank you for the NUDGE. It hadn’t occurred to me that I’d enjoy a team SPORT. Wouldn’t have seen myself fitting in, especially given my general clumsiness and lack of competitiveness. The COACH fosters a certain amount of FOLLY even while honing our skills. We sweat and pant, certainly stretching my physical ability, yet still everyone maintains a JOLLY air.

Heather

I turn the SHELL and position it just so. I take out my drawing supplies, also positioning them just so. I like to think that I have a bit of a FLAIR for the visual arts, and even if not, at least I get a lot from it. I study the shape of this simple, yet beautiful object. Reflecting on the principles of how to render it with pencil, I appreciate the LOGIC of the process. I hold still – and look, I mean really look at it, almost in a state of LUCID dreaming while still very awake. Joy, meditation, creativity all at once – and I begin.

Georg’ann

LEAVE behind sorrows
For today LIMIT regret
Be LUCID and lush.

Heather

I move into your ORBIT
Captivated by your WEIRD moves
Perhaps they should RAISE
A red flag or two, but
Nope, I am ready for a strange ride

Georg’ann

SPICE bottles empty
ARISE, go to store. Refill.
Chef wants to RAISE bar

Heather

Sisters

We were and are separated
By long years and miles
Yet memories linger, like how
You used to CLAIM that I was
A Sarah Bernhardt, a sly accusation
That did label me
An ACTOR, a faker
All my emotions as melodrama
Or how you pointed out my clothes as
TACKY (One of your favorite words)
Casually crushing adolescent feelings
Our relationship was shaped by
Your hard polished side
That shines out to me
Like the FACET of a diamond
I struggle to turn it
And find the softer ties that loop
This gem around my neck

Georg’ann

“GUARD her”, you ask SAINT
Your love is an altar made
This FACET shines bright

Heather

The SHARP edge of the knife cuts before he realizes what has happened. Finger to lips, MOUTH fills with the salty metal taste. The ETHIC of the brotherhood requires much, and he has had to be LITHE and swift as the tests have increased. It is as if he has had to TITHE in flesh, and he suspects that the more dangerous the test, the more certain they will be of his loyalty.

Georg’ann

This HOUSE a temple
delicate CHIME guides prayer
Service is my TITHE

Heather

Let’s acknowledge that DREAD is in the air. It just seems to be part of life these days, and at times, it is for a specific reason. But I do believe that together we can stave off PANIC. No, really, I am certain of this. What’s that you say? You haven’t a clue what to do next? Drawing a BLANK in the moment is normal. I have learned not to attach too much meaning to it, and rather say THANK you – that the empty moment is just another way of processing and is actually quite necessary. Hold my hand, will you? And together, we can walk into the SHANK of the night a little less afraid.

Georg’ann

Moving now into the DEPTH.
Reality of an isolated fact,
a single clue that takes us
no closer to solving the puzzle.
The escape room keeps us
staring at indecipherable bits,
with confused panic.
Release me to an easy CHAIR,
wrap a SHAWL around my torso
like spiritual arms.
I’d SHANK the guard to be free.

Heather

The paradox of being a good GUEST
Bring a PLUME, a precious item
To uniquely EQUIP the hostess
That all may know your worth
Above all others invited to the table

Georg’ann

Like carved and painted animals
ROUND and round we spin.
You SQUAT down, my foot
in your hands. Carefully
you ease me to the saddle.
Roles reversed,
We EQUIP ourselves for the ride ahead.

Heather

A LAUGH that wavers like a sob- uh oh!
All pause – which way will it go?
Ah, with the BLINK of an eye,
Emotional scales tip into BLISS
As a BLIMP floats by
Relief as little toddler hands clap in joy

Georg’ann

Sitting at the dam end of the lake, high above the field, I watched a small woman stoop to PLUCK a violet along the sunny SLOPE. Out of nowhere a BLIMP shaped dog waddled into her, sending her rolling down the grassy hill sideways. I expected some unpleasant utterances but instead out poured peels of laughter as she was thrust back into a quintessential childhood delight. In my own body I also felt the dizzying sensation of careening downhill. A broad smile crossed my face as I laid down and set myself in motion.

Heather

Looking for the best PRICE, I wandered the gardening EVENT, distracted by the presence of so many STEEL rain barrels. Who on earth would buy that? And why hadn’t I bought one? Suddenly, my plastic one seemed ugly and passé.

Georg’ann

Worn, dry, crusty. Feeling STALE
as the bread I put in the toaster
last week and then forgot.
Lever never pushed, no
comforting toast retrieved.
Today you sit at the table.
Sipping chai, your STEEL blue
eyes find mine. Coating me
in cream, egg, sugar, and spice.
I become pudding in your gaze.

Heather

They say
That out in the CORAL
A SPIKE grows
Belonging to a THING unknown.
They say
That when families visit
The sharp beastie knows
Who the naughty children are
Who the WHINY children are
They say
That those children best beware
For the thing that grows
Within the reef
Will pierce their tender feet

Georg’ann

DEATH images haunting.
Even the CHOIR is silent.
WHINY voices hush.

Heather

On the desk, in the STACK of PRESS cuttings, under the GUISE of talking about a MOUSE and a HOUSE, you can find a fascinating tale of the role of the LOUSE in shaping human history.

Georg’ann

It wasn’t worth the PRICE,
Showed an appalling lack of TASTE.
Definitely not going to SOLVE your problems.
Oh how you played LOOSE with it all.
Never pegged you as a LOUSE
yet here we are.
My skin is crawling,
treatment after treatment
and still I can’t get rid of you

Heather

Cooking up some clarity
Will I find the CREAM
Of TRUTH in the BROTH?

Georg’ann

No repair for BREAK,
Still try to nourish the heart
BRING warm BROTH, kindness.

Heather

The spring woods create a soft border around the lake. Seduced by the colors and the contrast, I walk out onto a pier. A FLECK of something floats by on the breeze. At first, I think it is a petal from one of the flowering trees above me. But no, if is a different bit of fluff, a feather. It feels like magic, something out of time that could EXIST only in fantasy. Overhead a HERON flies, long neck and great wings coordinating in a marvel of grace. I find myself stretching up, elongating my own spine: as if on the VERGE of flight or as if about to MERGE with the glorious creature above me.

Georg’ann

REACH through thorns for fruit.
Hard won, this sweet BERRY. Taste.
MERGE strife with delight.

Heather

It was hard to hear – a story of corruption and death, the consistent oppression of a country, a people. It was told in a clear and RAPID fashion. Direct and devastating, I understood it not as the development of a new TREND, but as the historically consistent GREED of big corporations and the BREED of men who run them.

Georg’ann

Wearing a purple SATIN gown,
and dangling moon earrings,
she sat with a champagne bucket
waiting for totality.

We did no know that when it came
We all WOULD cheer, then go silent.
Unwritten CREED in the collective
experience. New faith in our BREED

Heather

Caramel stuck in my molar
Waiting for the SOLAR
Give me some MOOLA
Let me be your DOULA
Don’t be so bourgeois
Show me your chutzpah
Let me show you VOILA
Eclipse, baby
Eclipse, baby
Eclipse!

Georg’ann

AGILE woman bounds
DAILY, crossing streams
on logs and stones.
VOILA, achieves balance.

Heather