Life Is Selfish…

…and thank goodness for that bit. The moment life stops being self-centered, death comes and steals the show. Nothing against death, who looks so chic in all her black and bone motifs. But… some of the best feels require some flesh.

Like coffee, can you see me delighting in coffee without using some tongue?
Exactly! Tongueless coffee might be joyless (and, perhaps, impossible),
especially on cloudy days (when we want to grin even if the sun is in a mood).

Anyhoo, life wants more Magaly for herself (who can blame her? I’m freaking awesome), and I must indulge her wants. No major changes. Just that I’ll post stories and poems only on Tuesdays. But worry not (well, maybe a bit), since I promise (threaten?) to stalk you on Facebook and Instagram every single day.

And for the 13 or 31 of you who are not on Facebook or Instagram, I shall post FB and Insta recaps (photos, poem bits, random rants) every other week or so. These recaps shall include writing updates and riotous ramblings about what I (and one of my parasols) get up to in The Woods and in The City.

 

the recaps and rambles will look something like this:

Last year, my Piano Man got me a red parasol.
I love it (not just because it’s red), but because it makes everything cooler.
Also, someone on FB said the pattern looks like veins and arteries,
which makes it cooler in a whole new way.

 

The pomelo seedling below was birthed from a fruit I ate some months ago…
I’m wondering if the tea (I hope to get from its leaves) will be just as sweet.
The wee stone in the pot followed me home from Friday Harbor.

in the spring,
soft leaves and heart stones
grow beauty

 

writing and stuff…
– I am rewriting some of my old stories and poems, trying to decide which collection to publish first. Or if I want to go for a twosome. We shall see…

What about you, my Luvs, what have you and life been up to these days?

A Typo for Rommy’s Birthday…

Rommy is having a birthday (probably with tea), so I thought I should celebrate the occasion by haiku(ing) some of the things that come to mind when I think of her. I would’ve added gloriously gigantic hair, fantastic mother, best chosen-cousin, and many other things, but haiku aren’t supposed to be that long.

Happy Birthday, Rommy!

 

in her bones, luna
moths sing of Machu Picchu
soul deep in Japan

 

about the title…
– I had already posted this haiku on Instagram, on Rommy’s Facebook wall, on my wall… before a friend pointed out that I had missed the “r” in the handwritten “her”. After a burst of seriously mortified giggling, I deleted the r-less posts and chose to share the corrected haiku here. Yep, I’m going to share it on social media again. Why dwell on the horror of having given my dear Rommy a typo for her birthday, when I can use the accident to get more people to send more deliciously bright birthday energy her way? So… my Wicked Luvs, join me in wishing Rommy a birthday full of wishes come true.

What Do You Feel When You See My Shorts?

Someone told me that the reason she doesn’t care for haiku, senryū, and micro writings in general is “because they are not long enough to make [her] feel anything.” I was… surprised. I mean, I can’t imagine someone feeling nothing after reading, “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.”

I decided to run my own wee experiment. I shared a blackout poem—the heart of the first of today’s poem bits—then, I asked my Instagram friends to tell me what they felt after reading it, what the 5 words brought to mind. Their responses were illuminating. So, of course, I wanted to do something similar here. After you drink in the wee bits below tell me what comes to mind. What, if anything, do they make you feel?

 

imagine, my heart,
but do not pretend to feel—
hollow love’s nothing

 

freedom is twisted
around limbs flayed by winter,
waiting to be freed

 

wilting blooms
sparkle their brightest
at sunset

 

the wee notes…
– the six-word story at the end of the first paragraph has been attributed to Hemingway, but no one is completely sure if he was the first to write it.
– for the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads.
– yes, the title made me giggle, too.