La Loba


My mother collected the pieces

one by one

in the desert, the sand and skulls

cutting at her feet.

The Bone Mother, they call her,

La Loba

La Que Sabe

the Wild Woman.

Piece by piece she collected

the bones of the wolf,

her ratty cloak sweeping the dunes

behind her, her weathered fingers

clutching those indestructible pieces,

never resting until each one was accounted for.

Patience, she’d whisper to me at night

My love, you’re going to need patience

as I lost count of the scars

as I lost another piece slipping

out the window toward the moon.

Once she found the very last bone, the paw,

she’d take them to a fire, lay them

in place, raise her arms, and sing. Read More

My Little Writer

My little writer.  We just got this old typewriter at a garage sale.  Stars in her eyes! She loves to write, that’s all she does.  She loves poetry and writing her own, poetry books from the library.  We’ve started our own book she titled “Ones A Pana Time”   🙂   Makes me proud!

The Self-Taught Sculptor

Me & Mike singing "Piano Man" at the lodge where we camp for a week every year

These are the sculptures of my best friend Mike (many of you have read about him in my essay Matters of Time or the poem For Mike).  He’s a self-taught artist–no schooling, no classes, no books.  He’s got severe Rheumatoid Arthritis (he’s 32 and has had his hips, knees, and shoulders replaced already) and the agony and depression and the fight in him is something to truly admire, and in these sculptures this laid-back, hilarious, wise dude reveals the pains within–what he goes through, over and over.  I’m helping him set up a blog called “Chicks Dig Scars“, it’s just a rough layout so far, he hasn’t gotten his stories and words up yet, but some sculptures are posted.  I encourage you all to follow him if you want to see some amazing shit from an amazing guy.  Love ya, Mike.

His blog is Here: Chicks Dig Scars

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