Thursday, June 05, 2014

Keep The Fire Burning

—Photo by Ann Privateer, Davis

—James Lee Jobe, Davis
YOU LIVE AMONG THE GREEN TREES of the forest, and sleep on the bare earth. Your dreams rise up from the roots and the soil, as a tree rises up. You think that perhaps you will be come a tree. Or a shrub. Or the warmth of things growing. Your life is touched by the earth, and by the sounds of your footsteps on the fallen leaves.

I USED ICE TO GET THE GUM OUT OF MY HAIR, I had no idea what I was doing, but then, I seldom do. She said she wasn't looking for a serious relationship, and I said that was good because I was not serious about much of anything. Neither of us believed in Hell, so we married. One day led to another, like Dorothy going down the yellow brick road, one stride at a time. You begin at the beginning. How did the gum get into my hair? That's a good question.

I HAD ALWAYS BEEN SOMEWHAT UNCOMFORTABLE inside of my own skin, so it was that wolves took me in. I slept better with the warmth of their fur around me. I learned to hunt with the pack. When the moon was full I joined my family, canis lupus, under the glorious light. In the meaty hours we ran and we howled.

KEEP THE FIRE BURNING for the gods you love the most. The most private of prayers in the most quiet of hours. You and the flame. Faith and fire. The drumbeat of the earth. The whispers of a heaven. You have a secret name, and you speak it in firelight, alone.

—Photo by Ann Privateer

—Ann Privateer

Asleep dreaming
of yesterday’s babies
returning to the womb

bare feet down the hall
paddling bare wood
savoring diminishing light.

Sun becomes, warmth
returns to smile
though the pantry

is empty, too many halls
not enough letting down
the hair and pushing out

to be one's own, alone
the mind mapped
and braced, opens

to embrace
the walled-up house
and leave the safety net.


—Ann Privateer

Total domination? How about
just a smidge, a Nano-second

small wisp, a lisp of regret
so I won't get my feet wet.

Total domination? Under whose
regime might it be, a lead

foot or a minimalist who lives
far away and damns by mail

and not by will, a gnat buzzing
in my lover's ear, a burly guy

steering the course, leering
at passersby, high on self-

importance while I, the forsaken,
pay the price, slipping to the side.

 —Photo by Ann Privateer

—Ann Privateer

I'm traveling like a bird
over the desert
where stones promulgate
and oceans find sleep.

I start, stop, escape like a bird
gesturing to the stars—
crestfallen, surging, hooded
by darkness, awaiting sleep.

I spin dust that rises daily like a bird
who bows to the juggler
and populates hand shakes,
praising the ones who cuddle sleep.


Today's LittleNip:

—Ann Privateer

Compress less, show off your ego
go slow and you'll know where to find it
next time, sip up some sky, easy-
does-it symmetry of crazy quilt patterns
go slow, you'll know that unencumbered
is a thrill to spill again and again
making new versions of you.
Become numb to what must be
as We becomes palatable Me.



—Photo by Ann Privateer