being a stone turner of long standing,
i enjoy studying the back sides of art cloths
as much as i enjoy gazing at the front, more public, side . . .


i flip The Rinse Cycle 2 (a new series) over, and i see
i see every shade of blue
the sky has every worn.


i see knots.
some of friendships – unions – marriages – new beginnings
celebrations that bring us together in festival and gladness.
i see knots of hanging on – depression – despair.
i see knots as fists, landing blows in the shape of words
and i see the knots i feel in my stomach
in the wake of the blows,
even after so much time has passed.


i see trails taken
and trails not taken.

i see curves in the roads
mandatory re-routings.
who could have known?
there were no maps.
there couldn’t be.


i see an undisturbed spot of aching
left empty
by those who predeceased me.
gone ahead, some would say,
passed on
left us
they died and are dead.
i do not gloss over death
with prettier words
because it does not change anything
or lessen the longing.

i see those who might have died
but didn’t
and i rejoice.
oh my goodness gracious how i do rejoice.


i see giant steps
and teensy tentative baby steps.
i see skips
and hops
and gallops
and waltzes.

i see crooked lines
paths that go every which-a-way,
often against the grain.


i spy
rolling hills
garden spots
vast and small


i see hope
and life on the verge.
nay, i see life in leaps and bounds
as i stand in the present
remembering the past
and wondering with keen anticipation
and a quickening, actually
about the future.

happy new year to us all.
may we rock it
stitch it
traipse it
paint it
dance it
sing it
color it
hug it
live it
and mark it
as only we can.