Orion

 ( This is an old poem I wrote a very long time ago-- as I am enjoying each last night I can see Orion in the sky at this time of year I was reminded of it and thought I'd throw it out there. :)

Orion

a gray rock,

dragged from its mountain by some

ambitious landscaper to sit sentinel

amid the iceplant of our front yard,

where it could nightly experience

the indignity of a clambering barefoot child

posing for sunset on it.

my brother’s sweatshirt, jeans, an afghan

and bare feet wet from crushed iceplant,

i’d mount my boulder and pet the

molting eucalyptus at its side.

then, chin on knees-- pulled up, limb-locked,

hair spilling from its clip’s hard bite, and

my toes gripping the cool rock, i’d wait

for the pink to fade

from the edges of my picture;

and for bright tips of light to

prick me until Orion came out.

He would stop the bullying

right away and, bow drawn taut,

swear to shoot all dragons haunting

my cul-de-sac at night.

i thanked Him kindly,

made a wish on His belt,

and went inside,

never knowing the dragons He killed.

Dancing in Public and the Horribleness of the Word "Blog"

Welcome to my secret blog. Secret because no one knows it exists but me just yet and I rather like that. It is not that I am attempting to hide my identity here --  just a quiet hope that I won't get noticed, or at least not much, as of yet.
         I read blogs; I enjoy them; have been told to write one for years now, but there are just a few problems with that: First, I am stubborn as hell and if you tell me to do something I am 100% more likely to not do it for just that reason-- childish, ridiculous, but there you are. Secondly, well. . . beginning to blog feels vaguely like dancing in public: You want to join in the fun, are fairly sure you'll enjoy it, but rather hope you won't be noticed until you have loosened up, tried out a few moves, had a drink or two, etc.  There are some people who can just jump right into that gyrating circle and show off their stuff.  That's not me. Let me get a glass of wine in me and put my time in on the edges first.  I'll get there eventually.
         All this to say that if you have discovered this wee bit of rambling you are the first to have noticed me at the dance. I'm white and 1/4th Jewish. I grew up at a Dutch Reformed School. If my rhythm is lacking be merciful. It will improve.
                 As a final note I would just like to say that I hate the word blog. It just rhymes with too many other bad, clunky, stick-in-your-nose words like bog, clog and smog. I can't say it without feeling I have a head cold.  Can't we come up with a more palatable word? "I'm blogging." "I'm a blogger." Yuck. How can you say that without feeling like you need to blow your nose?