“I wore my heart like a wet, red stain on the breast of a velvet gown.”—Dorothy Parker
I am tired of talk that comes to nothing It makes my heart sick when I remember all the good words and all the broken promises. There has been too much talking by men who had no right to talk.
It does not require many words to speak the truth. – Chief Joseph
Fire loves pine, a hot devouring, sweet and easy.
Easy, the same way the mountain blue sky bends the sun
but the light edged into eclipse,
a paper with a pin-hole that you see only indirectly,
light from the sun that might otherwise blind you.
The rain in the mountain pass rolled boulders on the roads,
fish jumped clear of deer creek, mud heaving the culvert.
We dug the car out, back then, when we were together.
The man I thought I knew, the one that took my breath away.
Willows hang their mystery in the air, a threat with all that beauty.
Again he left, this man I loved, his keys jangled in a hall, clanking and more annoying,
too many whisky and cokes, a tumble, a fall, another woman…
But I only cared when what he loved diminished.
Fires scorched the Aspens when a match from the State Highway came
to meet meteors that trailed their red streams over dark power lines.
A sunset glazed with smoke, someone else’s goodbye.
Eyes held me from ashen woods with desperate search behind the searing crackle.
Once after he drove away, trees shook their needles down
Like laughing crows, watching me at the window looking into the night.
Stones of the fire whispered my own hard lies
Logs bled boiling sap like amber tears toward sunrise.
A scar with wind and darkness at the holy fall of dusk,
staining the deep woods then, a haze that made me turn on the porch light, go inside.
When the mountain shakes with the ghosts of lions,
and the Colorado River hisses with rage,
a few stars from the Milky Way fall silent and quick
shooting like fireworks past a sliver of edgy moon.
Firewood rests in the corner, nights get darker and colder,
lights of the cabin glint across the valley to welcome no one
behind the blackened skeletons of the pines.
•Come up with 30 separate chapters for an “autobiography”.
•Try to think of 10 businesses you can start from home (and be realistic how you can execute them)?
•Give me 10 ideas of directions this blog can go in.
•Think of 20 ways Obama can improve the country.
•List every productive thing you did yesterday (this improves memory also and gives you ideas for today).