Mother’s Lost Past

“Mother, Mother on the Wall whose the fairest of them all?” I ask myself looking up at a photo of my mother that hangs on the wall above my computer.  Looking out from that photo through the eyes of a 92 year old, I see myself in/… Read full post »

I think of the lines of Lowell's poem, from "Waking in the Blue", "each of us holds a locked razor" and realize that I need to stop. Stop the random sex.  

We are all old timers,

Each of us holds a locked razor.

Robert Lowell, “Waking in the Blue”

 … Read full post »

The Glass Blower and Me

There is a shape I’m searching for,

Or is it a process?

The outcome is always the same, and I ask

“Is it love or art?”

I’m thinking of that mountain village, north of Fujioka… Read full post »

Naked, my image is reflected back to me, in a full-length mirror. But a woman, I do not see: curves that rise and fall like hills that would be a dwelling place for love. I see a broken hull of what should have been… Read full post »

I pray because I cannot stop.

Crashing down all around me,

body parts pierce me like ice.

Crashing ice.

My head is under water.

I am afraid to swallow.

My asking groin is… Read full post »

When I think about you, I stand at the sink slipping my soapy hands over each delicious dish, my dreaming fingers exploring the geography of your body, all  the places I  once touched but never go now.

You were the dark haired girl I pined for… Read full post »

Love and Art: The Glass Blower and Me

There is a shape I’m searching for,

or is it a process?

The outcome is always the same, and I ask

 “Is it love or art?”

I’m… Read full post »

This poem I wrote about 6 years ago for Robert, a gay man whom I love. He is such a dear friend and such a lovely man. He has a light that never goes out. 

Like so many people here on Open Salon, Robert was not afraid to bear his… Read full post »

Running from the razor

We are all old timers,

Each of us holds a locked razor.

Robert Lowell, “Waking in the Blue”

“No one your age should have to know about those things” I hear myself saying into my… Read full post »

Got a Poem or Quote to inspire for the New Year? Share with us on OS.

The poem I selected to inspre myself is by Antonio Machado and translated by Robet Bly, entitled, "The Wind One Brilliant Day".

The Wind, One Brilliant Day

The wind, one brilliant day, called… Read full post »

By K.Fujioka, Nautical Press

FORT COLLINS, Colo.—On December 26 police entered the home of Richard Deene, the Balloon Boy’s father who had been sentenced to jail time for orchestrating the hoax that duped emergency personnel who pursued the balloon and cost taxpayers $50… Read full post »

Grandmother’s Glass Eye

Grandmother’s glass eye, not the one

that rolled under the bureau and slipped through the grated heater cover,

the one she never wore, the one

only I could possess, the one

that would never cast a sideways glance… Read full post »

Christmas was important to dad even though we never saw him. We heard him. Mom and I would be dressing the ham and hear the comforting sound of his axe hit the wood, whack… whack…. wack… then a groan as he lifted the pile and his ski boots padding through the… Read full post »

The room is silent. I step down from the podium at the front of the sparsely furnished basement room, at the Trinity Cathedral, where I had been speaking at a 12-step meeting. My legs are weak and I am still shaking, as I squeeze through the crowded room full… Read full post »