the trembling leaf

she hung and clung
shaking tenuously with each gust of wind

she trembled
the trembling leaf

is it laughter
is it joy
or is it sorrow
is it fear

she trembled
the trembling leaf

she gazed back in time
her dried leafy self a hollowy shell
memories like a misty dew
as the sun warms her well

anticipation of dropping
of little feet crunching
or perhaps she'll be pressed
between new leaves of a well-loved book

she trembled
the trembling leaf

her colors once vibrant, now fading
she knows her home is still strong
and home is a feeling, not a place
and staying too long will feel wrong

her life on the branch now is fleeting
she tries to drink deeply
the sap is still sweet
and her appetite waning

she trembled
the trembling leaf

Ode to West Coast Swing

West coast swing,
How do I love thee?
Let me count the ways...

Each song we dance
Presents a chance
To be a different me!

My inner pop&locker
Can visit for a song
Then my hidden rocker
Can do no wrong

Another could arrive
And my sensual side will come alive
And together we slide...

My inner Bobby Brown
Can mingle with your Michael Jackson
We came to get down
And now we are relaxin'

One moment can inspire
A lyrical dance expression
Another can require
A physical digression

A hop, a slip, a hip, a rock,
And stop. (Musical break)

Besides each partner there is also each song,

Before too long

You feel like Robin Williams doing stand-up...!!

How many ways are there I can say,
This dance allows me to be all my selves and also play.

It is more than just *a* dance...

It allows for the plurality of humanity...and through connection with each partner (and maybe performance art too) it unifies us.

Ode to the Blank Page and the Blinking Cursor

The imagination skips, delights, stymies.  

There are untold realms of thought, flights of fancy.  

There is no limit.  

Where to?  Where to?  

Now what?  Now what?  

Innocently blinking all the possibilities and yet none.  

There can be depth, there can be tall tales, there can be truth, or falsities.  

There is only all of forever and no time like the present.  

This one blinking moment, this one blank page, 

These empty moments of reflection, these echoing vast chasms of randomness, 

The long hallway of elongating possibilities, the daunting thought of choosing just one path, 

Laying one brick down, pulling one word at a time.  

The action of typing, deleting, a thought begins and is erased, 

In the span of time between the thought and the key stroke, 

Self-doubt creeps in and you remain…

The forgiving, patient, unjudging blinking cursor…

If only I can learn your lesson.  

Seize the moment, type away, type nonsense, type gibberish.  

Type profound insights, type myself into existence, 

Reinvent my spirit with charming skills, 

Reinvent and co-create a fantasy more delightful and more engaging, 

Escape my personal eye and accusing finger.  

There is no should here, only could. 

Type what you will, at your own risk!

Beware the joy!  Beware the bliss!

And whether you share it or keep it tight, 

You and I know there is an infinite blinking abyss…

Fall into myself, discover what’s been left behind, 

Uncover the hidden fears and invent solutions to made-up knots and problems. 

Self-indulgent, perhaps.

Or perhaps in all senses it is touching self.  

What are we if not ideas, dreams, fears, fantasies, and goals?  

We can only articulate to some degree, but in whatever degree we can articulate, 

Thus we embrace another wrinkle, another layer, and an alternate real self. 

There are dark and light aspects, 

Yin and yang, 

Joy and sorrow, 

Fear and courage, 

Shame and guilt, 

Pride and weakness.

Blink.

Blink.

Blink.

Don’t blink, or you’ll miss it…

What is the space between the blinking line?

Beat. Line. Beat. Line. Blink. Beat. Line. Beat. Blink.

There is…a parallel universe…hidden among the blinks.

For every word that can be typed, as it is typing, there is a parallel alternate keystroke.

What is that other girl day-dreaming tonight?

Is there a mirror we can both touch?

Just on the other side when I see a line, does she see a blank? Is she a half-sec ahead or behind?

Would she giggle to see me?

My sister in possibility…

I hope someday we meet…