Castle on the Coast

Spring castleThis Spanish castle, with its fishing boats at anchor beside the sea wall, makes me think of the cool damp of dawn on the seashore. Soon the fishermen will go down to their boats and head out to sea to earn their day’s keep. The shadows are still deep in the lee of the turrets and the bay is so calm that the boats ride quiet with their anchor lines slack. Continue reading

To My Mother (at 95)


Dear dark angel sifts her own
Sadly exhausted soul
But honey, sworn in the bay
In green flash wavelets

You rise and begin to play
And ancient madrigals softly swell
In that still amazing voice you lift
To earn the grace of motherhood again

You will recover,
Little very loving mother
Loving and warm as any other
Sisters and brothers and nieces and nephews

All gathered to your call
Together we love each other
But mostly we love you more
I thank you for every moment

For every untold breath of life
You gifted us with those endless talents
And one another and hopefully
We’ll recognize the on-going pleasures

Of brothers and sisters and living
As loving uncles and aunts
Thank you forever little mother.

This entry was posted on January 16, 2014, in Poetry.

On the Alert

Spring 12These lovely birds of paradise are ready to fight to protect their fledgling, on the branch above them. They bravely stand, feathers ruffled to make them look bigger and more fierce, and face all intruders.

Pets in Pain

Dharma the dog wearing her mad Hopi face

Dharma the dog wearing her “mad Hopi face”

My veterinarian said my old dog would get addicted to hydrocodone cough medicine, but she coughed 24/7, so we put her on it. The cough stopped and she was much better on the drug. Within six months the cough was back, so the vet examined her and raised the dose. It worked again.

Then our “no regulations” legislature cracked down on vets prescribing hydrocodone. Now my vet won’t give my dog enough to control her cough. The dear old thing is suffering again. Continue reading

This entry was posted on January 13, 2014, in Essays.

Spinning Dreamer

Spring 13 Spinning is a simple task that allows the spinner to slip into a dreamlike state, imagining another life, another world, another path through the garden, another way to be. This spinner will come out of her working trance when the fire burns low and the wool has all been spun into threads.

Parakeet Rainbow

Spring 11There are enough colors and types of parrots to make a feather rainbow. I tried to include all the colors of American parakeets in this painting, and to show how alert and friendly they are. These were together in a cage in a pet store, nervously watching as we approached them. I wanted to free them, but we were far from a warm enough climate for them to survive, so I show them outside the bars, ready to take off in a bright little flock if I simply wave my hand.

The Brilliant Shining Path

SB 39

To slice through the Gordian knots
Woven throughout our laws
By the slickest of experts
Who never invented a thing
But a world class economic sting
In a basket of rules to
Keep any real progress from being

The brave warriors today
Are  the Snowdens, Assanges and Stewarts
Who face down the foreign
The big corporations
And the sweet tax havens
And private tax-free foundations

That the wealthy keep getting richer
And pad one another’s credentials
Employing each other’s offspring

What a dumb bunch of losers
We have elected
Never think they’re there, so
The people are protected
They’re cheaply bought embodiments

Of jesters who can always be beheaded
If anything they do or say offended

And so for billionaires pocket changed
Given to their re-election campaigns
The rich get to cheat their way to wealth
Without even a semblance of stealth

It’s so easy, man,
To cheat taxpayers
Oh, the
Brilliant shining path
Of their self promotions
Found always a way
To make the poor pay

Photo credit: from a painting by Spring Bright


This entry was posted on January 10, 2014, in Poetry.

The Evil Jockey

Night birds

The evil jockey rides the elderly employee
down the gouged earth into poverty
And smiles
His countenance untouched by irony
Whose horny visage hides his infamy
Behind a mask of faked humility
In the name of all the ones whose lives
He’s stripped of reason, stripped through legally
permitted fundamental dishonesty
Whose rights and wealth and liberty
Whose health, whose own humanity
Are swept up in that maelstrom: greed
Left with nothing earned but need
Standing with fist clenched
In shocked outrage, too poorly served
By crooked representatives and hollow Word
On some dank page in some corrupted library
He shakes that fist at constitutionality
Let down, subsumed, to slip into inanity
Can we stand mute before his misery?
Or are we called, required to see
That where he stands is where we all will be
As right wing zealots rewrite history
Gutting unions, stealing every benefit
Hard won, so easily

Photo credit: from a painting by Spring Bright


This entry was posted on January 10, 2014, in Poetry.

One Way Out of the Castle

Acrobats + castleIf you look closely at this sunny yellow medieval castle, you’ll spy two men rappelling down from a high window. They’re not escaping, they’re jesters and they’re putting on a daring show for the king and queen and their guests. Later I expect they’ll be walking the high wire and twirling burning batons, earning their suppers.