Wildflower Honey

  

Breathing 

—RosZie (Pixabay)

—Poetry by Ann Wehrman, Sacramento, CA

—Public Domain Photos Courtesy of Ann Wehrman

 

 

 

SACRED SPACE #21: AIR QUALITY IN THE GREEN ZONE
 
I’ve taken to checking the online air monitors  
several times a day
air quality’s been hazardous
brown, even red zone, or worse  
but today the air’s so clean it’s intoxicating to drink it  
 
I’m drunk on the air today
though I do not drink alcohol
it’s better than Nana’s gin and tonics  
better than Mom’s directions, Pour me a martini, Honey
 
drinking air is guilt-free
fills my lungs with wild freedom
sweet, pure, invigorating
can’t live without it 

 

 

 

Air Quality in the Green Zone 

—Ann Wehrman

 

SACRED SPACE #23: UNIVERSE WITHOUT LIMITS
 
glistening spectrum of colorful stars  
streaming, dancing through the cosmos
 
no judgment—truth, karma rule
mistakes, however horrible
purified by fire to ashes  
becoming nothing  
becoming hard-won memories
becoming wisdom
 
but wouldn’t we be bored?  
need the sharp pleasure of evil?
it may be hard at this point to imagine  
eternal goodness and joy
 
perhaps it’s like the difference  
in flavor, in satisfaction  
between evil as saccharine  
and righteousness, goodness
as raw wildflower honey 

 

 

 

 Circinus Galaxy (NASA)

LOSING MY TEETH
 
masterful, yet sensitive
the oral surgeon sedated my mouth
then slip-yanked out my two lower front teeth
—one dead, one loose—
before I could begin yoga breathing
to shield against anxiety and pain
 
I left the office wobbly
the first night, dutifully slept on my back
upper body elevated to prevent inflammation
felt like a mummy or robot
 
craved a deep burrow
into the mattress on my belly or side
but that would pressure the jaw
displace the temporary partial, the flipper
 
had to keep that thing in my mouth
liquids only, first 24 hours  
must wear it daily for a few months
or maybe I’ll keep it permanently
getting implants instead would mean
more pain, expense
 
when I take out the flipper  
look in the mirror
see the gaping black square
center of my bottom jaw
I even scare myself 

 

 

 

 Laundry 

—Ryan McGuire (Pixabay)

OFF BALANCE
 
checking account wouldn’t balance
bank said I have a dime more  
spent three hours adding, re-adding  
finally pried myself off the chair, out the door
 
maybe I should have stayed inside longer
air gritty with particles of smog
maybe the fields were sprayed again
maybe too many winter fires in fireplaces
maybe just an inversion layer  
and people keep on driving, driving, driving
 
November air chilly, my hips were feeling it
lifted quilts into my cart, trundled  
to the shadowy, run-down laundry room  
reeking of mildew, disinfectant, bleach
flipped the light switch, pushed myself through 

three loads
 
project put off far too long
today’s the last day of the lunar cycle
tomorrow’s new moon brings a fresh start
moving my body, hoping my mind would right itself
 
maybe the bank’s error (however unlikely)
something reassuring about balancing my account 

each month
countering hysteria, sorrow, loneliness
 
laundry done, I returned home, turned on 

evening lights
eyed the bank statement  
reached instead for online work, food, Netflix
resolved to work on it all again tomorrow 

 

 

 

Pen 

—Samuel Francis Johnson (Pixabay)

 

PERMISSION
 
she opened a file
maybe she should use paper and pen—
even pencil, more tactile—
decided to use the computer
in her studio, door locked, background music soft  
she’d created the illusion of safety
no one would disturb her
she could pour out her heart and desire  
the only judge, her own conscience
 
would it really be OK
or a complete, foolish risk to write about her passion
would it ruin her reputation—
what matters is the truth, and love is key to life
sexual love part of the eternal creative heart of God
it must be OK to express what she understood
but then, was she writing for self-glorification
careless, just braggadocio, to gain attention
to publish it, if possible?
she worried over it like picking at a hangnail  
 
she wanted to write of her love
still just erotic fantasy  
yet, though she’d thought it through for the 

hundredth time  
given herself permission to write and publish it
 
the words that grew under her fingers
told a different story  
of the face, smile, mind of her love, when first met
years spent apart, then finally  
hearing him again, in her mind, asking to rekindle 

the flame
pledging to him alone but not finding him anywhere  
other than a whisper in her ear, a warm brush of wind
a seeming shift of events in her favor, a sense of 

being protected, cared for
 
she smiled—maybe he wasn’t ready to show himself
or maybe the problem was within her
that night, she ended up writing about how she longed  
to cook dinner together, clean house together
go for a walk together with her love
 
then she saved the file and logged out

______________________

Today’s LittleNip:

There exists a universal order that we each play a distinct role in carrying out. Light always struggles to emerge from darkness. Each of us is the bearer of our own lantern. We find ourselves when we realize our place in an interconnected world. The struggle to pierce the darkness that shrouds us from realizing a state of perceptive awareness is the biggest part of both our individual story and our communal storyline.

―Kilroy J. Oldster, Dead Toad Scrolls

______________________

Our thanks to Ann Wehrman for her poetry today, and for sending us these photos from public domain to go with. (People end sentences with "with" now. Weird.)

 

Tomorrow's El Dorado County Poetry Out Loud Finals in Placerville has been changed from a live venue to a virtual one due to inclement weather. Tonight, though, Poetry Unplugged at Luna’s Cafe in Sacramento presents featured readers plus open mic, 8pm. And there will also be a poetry reading and reception at the Mistlin Gallery in Modesto tonight at 7pm, featuring the collaborative show, Collision VII: Eighteen Poets and Eighteen Photographers Collide in an Act of Creation. Click UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS at the top of this column for details about these and other future poetry events in the NorCal area—and keep an eye on this link and on the Kitchen for happenings that might pop up during the week.

 

 

 

—Photo Courtesy of Public Domain

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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