—Poetry by Claire J. Baker,
Pinole, CA
—Photos of Eucalyptus Courtesy
of Public Domain
CLIMATE CHANGE
too hot to sleep
These night eucalyptus
are so still.
Have they had their fill
of darkness,
and now they await
a showering of stars?
A cleansing
in moonlight’s pool?
Roots stirred by melodies
of magnetic waves?
Meditative leaves
just beyond my open window
remind me life is brief
and that night is
but a flicker.
too hot to sleep
These night eucalyptus
are so still.
Have they had their fill
of darkness,
and now they await
a showering of stars?
A cleansing
in moonlight’s pool?
Roots stirred by melodies
of magnetic waves?
Meditative leaves
just beyond my open window
remind me life is brief
and that night is
but a flicker.
BABY SKIN
To relive
that soothing feeling,
I stroke silky paper, slide
fingers over polished glass,
bask in fragrant soap foaming
my hands, the lathering
into satiny clouds.
But no surface
so uplifts
as bathing a baby;
then the soft-rain rinse
before the cuddling to sleep
in a cozy cotton towel, a heavenly
hammock of careful arms and hands.
STOPOVER
at start of vacation
Driving north in California,
toward the rough planks
of a friend’s Oregon cabin,
I sink bare toes into a motel’s
shag rug. Beyond its window
Mt. Shasta, stunning in moonlight!
I want to camp way up there,
my 1/16th Native blood vibrant.
Pulling a lounge-chair closer
to window view,
I peer up and over an eerie
blue swimming pool
reflecting flashy neon…
Ah, the great mountain,
her moonlit snow breathing.
at start of vacation
Driving north in California,
toward the rough planks
of a friend’s Oregon cabin,
I sink bare toes into a motel’s
shag rug. Beyond its window
Mt. Shasta, stunning in moonlight!
I want to camp way up there,
my 1/16th Native blood vibrant.
Pulling a lounge-chair closer
to window view,
I peer up and over an eerie
blue swimming pool
reflecting flashy neon…
Ah, the great mountain,
her moonlit snow breathing.
GENTLEMEN…
Kahlil Gibran…
I would burn up my soul
if I thought its essence
would someone dissolve
the world’s sour problems.
But the acridity of ashes
from my torched temples within,
of tall grass where half-truths
hide, would render the air toxic,
not safe to inhale…
Then, for the rest of my life
I would do all I could to restore
my soul to one that is in passage,
open, receptive.
***
Chief Seattle…
Like Native Americans
in their last moons on earth,
I too want to believe in passing
as a Change of Worlds
a tiptoeing off a cliff edge,
held up by air over a crevasse
and onto a terrain more unique
than all I have reveled in
on summers’ vigorous camping trips—
a Change of Worlds evolving
toward forever beginning over.
Kahlil Gibran…
I would burn up my soul
if I thought its essence
would someone dissolve
the world’s sour problems.
But the acridity of ashes
from my torched temples within,
of tall grass where half-truths
hide, would render the air toxic,
not safe to inhale…
Then, for the rest of my life
I would do all I could to restore
my soul to one that is in passage,
open, receptive.
***
Chief Seattle…
Like Native Americans
in their last moons on earth,
I too want to believe in passing
as a Change of Worlds
a tiptoeing off a cliff edge,
held up by air over a crevasse
and onto a terrain more unique
than all I have reveled in
on summers’ vigorous camping trips—
a Change of Worlds evolving
toward forever beginning over.
FROM THE MOUTHS OF ELDERS
life in a senior complex
We try to stay upbeat. Surely our kin
will visit soon? It’s been six months,
a year—NO visits for some.
When we encounter in hallways,
laundry, community & mail rooms,
we nod or prune the grapevine.
Saturday night silence echoes
all around us, our cars
lined up in numbered spaces
like a mothball fleet.
Don’t get around much anymore—
that late ‘40s tune.
Meanwhile, our cozy library bulges
with murders & mysteries
we devour, book-after-scary-book…
Rejecting racism, ageism, sexism, all
ism-schisms, most of us project traumas
faced, lived-through-and-risen-above!
We’d like to redeem ourselves
from sleights & burned-out nights;
somehow get life right before
we launch forth for
the other side of the moon
in a grand Ta Da!
life in a senior complex
We try to stay upbeat. Surely our kin
will visit soon? It’s been six months,
a year—NO visits for some.
When we encounter in hallways,
laundry, community & mail rooms,
we nod or prune the grapevine.
Saturday night silence echoes
all around us, our cars
lined up in numbered spaces
like a mothball fleet.
Don’t get around much anymore—
that late ‘40s tune.
Meanwhile, our cozy library bulges
with murders & mysteries
we devour, book-after-scary-book…
Rejecting racism, ageism, sexism, all
ism-schisms, most of us project traumas
faced, lived-through-and-risen-above!
We’d like to redeem ourselves
from sleights & burned-out nights;
somehow get life right before
we launch forth for
the other side of the moon
in a grand Ta Da!
SMALL BIRD
Outside my
recliner
window
a small bird
frisks a
eucalyptus
leaf
uplifting
aloneness
into
moments
of
redeeming
grace.
Outside my
recliner
window
a small bird
frisks a
eucalyptus
leaf
uplifting
aloneness
into
moments
of
redeeming
grace.
DEAR MARY RUDGE*
in memoriam
Most hadn’t known you were
a Dominican Nun who wrote:
We, who are luminous,
are ninety percent light.
Poet now, you are enshrined
on stepping stone stars to glory?
Gazing back thirty+ years,
the Bay Area poetry world
was ho-hum before your arrival
with your passionate pitch,
that revitalized the words peace
and justice.
You appeared among us activated,
visionary, ready to spur positive changes.
Founding a circle of friendly followers,
you took us on exciting adventures
urging that we open wide to practicality.
change, staying dedicated and strong.
Mary Rudge, we still find moving
your Yours, In Poetry sign-offs
on emails, and your inscribed books,
invitations, and thank-you notes.
And, yes, friend, we ARE luminous
and will always be Yours, In Poetry.
*Alameda, CA’s Poet Laureate for 13 years
______________________
Today’s LittleNip:
GREAT SPIRIT…
—Claire J. Baker
Great Spirit,
may we assume
good intentions
believing that love
silently expressed
is silently answered.
Higher Power,
may we forgive and
be forgiven for our flaws,
as we accept we are all
workings of nature
in progress.
______________________
Our thanks to Claire J. Baker for her thoughtful poems today, and her tribute to Mary Rudge—a definite Force in the Bay Area poetry world!
Two events of note are happening in our area today: Catherine French and Lisa Dominguez Abraham read at MusicLandria in Sacramento (4pm), and Tell Me When to Glow Summer SLAM (Showcase of Local Arts and Movement) with food, live performances/DJ/music, artwork, fashion displays, vendors, and more starts at 8 p.m. Click UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS at the top of this column for details about these and other future readings in the NorCal area.
______________________
—Medusa
Flock of wild budgies in the
Aussie Outback, headed to
the eucalyptus groves to
spend the night.
—Public Domain Photo
Courtesy of Joe Nolan,
Stockton, CA
the eucalyptus groves to
spend the night.
—Public Domain Photo
Courtesy of Joe Nolan,
Stockton, CA
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