Art Credit: Lizzy Forrester
http://www.lizzyforrestergallery.com/

Originally published 13 years ago in the (now defunct) New Works Review, revived here in response to this week’s prompt, “Flow“, at One Single Impression.

Crossing

The river sings of its rocks, mirrors
emerald and jade where summer
shadows attempt to outrun
sundown. I intrude, I presume.

I stand near the middle. The second cut
of hay is on the banks, neatly ordered
in rows this time of year, golden,
measuring the march-step toward August.

I think about changes: the movement
of sand through narrow places, how
a ripple diminishes downstream,
how a sound sounds when it stops.

We Have New Art To Hang

A couple weeks ago, we received delivery of the 40 x 50 centerpiece (Temptation–Nectarine, hand painted by an Art.Com Staff Artist), and last night the two  24 x 36 triptychs (Sugar Bay on the left, Ten City on the right, both by Erin Ashley) arrived.  I already loved my living room–especially the toffee-colored accent wall–but I’ll be loving it even more now.  My Beloved Sandra and I enjoyed the search for just the right smaller paintings and (amazingly, given our divergent tastes) were lucky to find something we could agree on without too much bloodshed.

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It’s Saturday. Lots of other treats from Call Me Cate over at: SHOW MY FACE.

Come back to visit us now; come back
now that the gardens are filled, the aspen
sway in the afternoon breeze, the bees
and waterfalls buzz and rush. Come back
in the midnight hush, in the light splash
of the river on its rocks. Come back to us
now that spring is nearly done, summer
almost underway.
                             Under this huge and empty
sky, we must all seem so very small to you who,
released at last, must finally see all things,
all at once, and clearly.
                                    Come back to us.

(Pet Peeve No 101A)

There’s No Such Word As “Gifting”

(Please, please, please stop torturing my ears)

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Call Me Cate speaks English perfectly at: SHOW MY FACE. Check it out!

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I’m very happy to announce that two (that’s right, two–count ‘em!) of my poems were published today in Vol. 3 of WORDLAND.  The theme for Vol 3 is “What They Saw In The Sky.” 

The first poem, Escapee, I wrote after watching a little girl wishing–maybe succeeding–at removing herself from the presence of a heartless parent.

The other poem, While You’re Away, A Meteor Shower, was written for My Beloved Sandra during another of her globetrotting sojourns away from home (go figure).

The only good thing about her travels is that I usually write a love poem about anticipating her return and, apparently, publishers like these pieces.  I’ve been pretty lucky that so many of them have been picked up.

At any rate, I’m doing the Poet’s Dance Of Successful Joy!

You can find both poems (and lots of other good stuff IN THE TABLE OF CONTENTS.

I just got word from Rick Lupert of  Ain’t Got No Press / Poetry Superhighway that my poem I Got Yer “Grumpy” Right Here, Pal will be anthologized later this year.  The Anthology will be called Ekphrastia Gone Wild and will feature poems based on other works of art.  “Grumpy” was originally published back in December of 2010 at AND/OR, and I’m delighted that it’s been selected for the anthology.

I’ll definitely keep you updated as to when / where you can find it once it’s published!

My Beloved Sandra’s off to Vegas on Wednesday & everyone knows I’ll miss her.  But I have no desire for Vegas.  Everybody who knows me knows why.

There are a few cities I might be willing to visit, however briefly. Memphis might be one.  The song “Walking In Memphis” always makes me cry; inexplicably break down weeping.  I have no idea why. In case you don’t know it, here it is:

–Sidenote: I believe that we’ve all lived previous lives, and I believe that in a previous lifetime I was a Delta Bluesman.  When I went to New Orleans, I knew my way around as soon as my feet touched the ground. When I visited Preservation Hall, I had this overwhelming compulsion to go sit on stage. And when my friend Cyrrt gave an alto sax in highschool, I played “St James Infirmary” within 5 minutes without having ever touched a sax before in my life.  And then there’s the whole weeping thing with “Walking In Memphis”–

At any rate, I have mixed feelings about visiting Memphis.  I’m afraid of whatever ghosts might haunt me, walking down Beale Street or Union Avenue.  And I figure that if I ever did live there before–in its heyday–it would probably break my heart to see what it’s become. 

Joni paints it pretty clearly:

 I dunno;  I guess Sandra’s right; I gotta get out more.  But Vegas?  No.  Beale Street? Maybe…

I Loves Me Some Native Flute

I was going to record a short vid of me playing, but then I found this.  Waaaaaay better than I can play and WOWSER what a flute, eh?

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Call Me Cate has never blown a sour note over at: SHOW MY FACE

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Some things never change:

Once again, it’s 4 AM and he considers the plinkety plink with strings in the background channel instead of the wow what a rush and oh my aren’t the walls moving channel or the where has my cheating lover gone again woe is me channel because this early in the morning when he wakes up and it’s time for them to come, he prefers not to have someone else’s words get in the way. The plinkety plink with strings in the background channel affords an opportunity for his ears to breathe without his mind being tied down to someone else’s lyric.

At the last minute he changes his mind, selects the wooden flute and a feathered drum with a couple of Nocturnes thrown in for good measure channel from 4 to 5, and then it’s time for the email and the way of all flesh.

Even though he sits in the park before he goes to work and takes his lunch break there, too, reading the Bhagavad Gita over and over, still he clings to what he cannot hold, fails to renounce his desire for the language, and knows that this failure will undo him, undo his day, undo the entire universe. This much he knows for certain, even as early as 4 AM, sitting at the keyboard, waiting to receive.

I Have The House To Myself

While this is sometimes a good thing, it’s usually only good for a night or two, during which time I spend most of my time pining for the return of My Beloved Sandra.  She’ll be home tomorrow.

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Lots more Words X6 from Call Me Cate at: SHOW MY FACE.

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