She brought wine.

Samuel would not have had any idea how to buy a bottle of wine and would have been stumped from the first detail, red or white, since he usually just drank a coldbeer or ocassionally a glass of scotch, neat, on a long winter evening.

He lay in bed adrift on the warm red float and thought of how Anne, her name was Anne, had solved the dilemma of his corkscrew-less kitchen by using a horseshoe nail and a pair of pliers, and how her laugh has been like wind…

She laughed at his jokes.

He'd been so used to making them--under his breath, as an aside to the dogs, silently grinning through his days like a jack-o-lantern any time a funny occured to him--that it was both startling and pleasing when her laugh sang its way through their conversations.

And they'd had several... conversations... over the course of three weeks, in various settings... the grocery store by the bread and pasteries, beside the road when he stopped to see if she…

A cold rain fell on the lilacs beside the old homestead cabin where he still lived despite having been away to college, having been away to try his hand at living elsewhere, having been away in his heart never.

He no longer farmed full-scale, had let the fields return to pasture where cattle grazed, but he had put in a garden that fed most of the small community, and he sold goat cheese and eggs, too, let the schoolchildren pick pumpkins in season, made intricate furniture out of wood…

"How then shall you live your life?"

So you determine to recycle, do unto others, leave no trace except a genious work of art, minimize your footprint, smile at strangers because they might be having a bad day, yeild when the sign says so and even when it isn't your turn, purchase wisely, eat thoughtfully, grow spinach, put out the positive energy that you want to receive, remember with each breath that love is, indeed, the thing.

But then, well, you watch the emissions build,…

I woke before dawn on my 42nd birthday to an olive flycatcher singing the same three notes 'round and 'round. 

There is heaven--and then there are these quiet moments that are beyond something as prosaic as a someday paradise--a human construct to overcome our fear of death.

The day held other gifts:  a photo I'll call "Where I Ride" and I'll send it to  my father, a gila monster, a black hawk who did not fly, but rather, talked us down the canyon. 

A bear track; a lion…

I am giving up on the tiny rake and the rocks that came with the packet of sand, adding my own pinecones and seashells and acorns.

I keep dreaming of excrement and vomit and babies and rape and someone spitting teeth (doesn't my psyche know that some things are not replaceable?).

Published book is one year old (check) with three unpublished standing in line, one of which has been sent to an editor (check), another of which keeps generating silence so loud as to be…

She gave up everything to lace on practice shoes and stand at the barre.

"You are quite good, you know," the people around her said, but she screamed, "No no no no!!!" inside her own head for compliments were not what she was after.

She was after the next dance, the next haunting song that lifted her up beyond no toenails and aching ribs.

Someone whispered "diva" when she asked to try again, but she turned off her hearing to humans voices.

She traced her marks…

1.   So my initial idea was to write my own six based on the painting, but then I realized that most of my writing is loosely based on this painting!  Duh.

2.  Thank you to everyone who wrote an entry.  It was so much fun to collect them as they came in.  I took the names off of the entries and printed out several copies of the compilation.  My guests on Monday night, plus myself and G, were the judges. 

3.  The entries fell into two distinct categories.  Some of you wrote…

"...and then she said...the girl who does my nails...was so tired, and needed to take the day off...can't I just watch my shows in peace... traffic was horr...too much to ask...the cutest blouse!!!...finally agreed to HRT and I said it is about time..."

There is a universe in a mason jar on my windowsill.

"...not voting for a snud...give it all to my sister, no doubt...not like I don't understand how she feels but...all holier…

Crisman, I know you don't like challenges so don't look.

Last year I offered a challenge and handed the winner his prize at HoW2.  This year I wanted to do something similar, but will mail the prize box immediately upon announcing the winner. 

The prize consists of:

1.  my book

2.  a dvd about cowboys

3.  a music cd

4.  a poetry cd

5.  another poetry cd

6.  a mystery prize

If you already have my book, well, your…

It is never like, "Oh, my god, break out the champagne and let your heart beat overtime because all of our dreams are coming true!"

I don't think that the (dreamed of) marriage proposal comes out of the blue, unheralded by expectation or earrings for Valentine's Day when what you wanted was a ring or hint after hint after hint... though I have had two that were a shock of the wrong kind and I was like "whaaaaat? (you moron)." 

I don't think good, earth-shattering news ever…

I know there is a metaphor in here somewhere, in this research I am doing, in all of these details about salamanders and salamander eggs, the bubbles of jelly with crescent embryos laid individually around the edge of the stock pond that is destined to go dry in some drought or another.

Am I the only one who sees things like this, the only one who gets her boots all muddy trying to dip out the mysteries and then dashing home to dip into google to find out what they are?

You…