Friday, March 30, 2007


Encaustic wax collage by S. Auberle

Yesterday the first hummingbird
buzzed by the window at dawn.
This morning there is new snow
and wind blasting down the mountain.
We lie here, tangled in warm
and I am thinking of chocolate rabbits
what I need to get for Easter dinner
that mammogram today and why
no poems are coming
but there was a bright moon rising
through the pines last night
and the Chianti tasted fine.
Will the wind ever stop
my brakes are squeaking
Bush is looking toward Iran
bike tires flat
need to meditate
have a garage sale
see the dentist--again
but there was that moon last night
haloing your face
in the most amazing way--so bright.
Sometimes I forget the light
how it enfolds this life
this heart, fragile as
that first hummingbird of spring.
- mimi


Photo/collage by S. Auberle

spring snow at twilight
parched trees holding out their arms
small birds snuggle in
- mimi

Thursday, March 29, 2007


Photo by S. Auberle

rise up my fair ones
daffodils lifting again
shaking off spring snow

Tuesday, March 27, 2007


Photo by S. Auberle

If humans can invent such a thing as computers and step out onto the moon and now this latest tidbit described in an article Panda Poop Turned into Paper:
"Beijing (AP) There's a new Chinese saying: when life hands you panda poop, make paper.
Researchers at a giant panda reserve in southern China are looking for paper mills to process their surplus of fiber-rich panda excrement into high quality paper. Liao Jun, a researcher at the Chengdu Giant Panda Breeding Base in Sichuan provice, said the idea came to them after a visit to Thailand last year where they found paper made from elephant dung. They thought panda poop would produce an even finer quality paper, he said."
If humans can be so clever and inventive, then why in the world can't we invent PEACE?


Fractal image by Marrianna Daugherty
Another member of my artist's group, Marrianna is, in her own words: "mixed media enthusiast, photographer, creative purse designer and a wise crone." To see more of her artwork check out her blog:
Fractals are her latest passion and she's done a beautiful selection of them. I love the other-worldly look of them. Marrianna is nothing, if not eclectic. She can go from the world of Frida Kahlo (another passion of hers) to outer space in the blink of an eye. Contact her at

Sunday, March 25, 2007


Photo by S. Auberle
"I won't transform my feelings
into words or a poem
but pour them from heart to heart
this day, this moment."
- Yosano Akiko
Tangled Hair

Friday, March 23, 2007


Photo by Susan Altman

This is the mountain that stands guard over our town. Home to kachinas, diverse and beautiful wildlife and one disgruntled ski resort owner who has divided the town with his plan to make snow with reclaimed wastewater. Native tribes in the area consider the mountain sacred and an important part of their cultural and spiritual heritage and do not support his proposal, along with many locals who feel it is not an environmentally sound or safe thing to do. The owner, who bought a ski resort located in the desert (despite the abundance of pines, it IS a desert) now threatens to pump water from a nearby aquifer at the rate of one million gallons a day to make snow if he is not allowed to go forward with his original plan. There seems, at this point in time, no meeting place of the two sides.
Photo by my neighbor, Susan Altman, a poet/wizard with the camera. She has some incredible wildlife shots of elk, eagles, deer and flowers. To contact her:
Thanks, Susan!

Thursday, March 22, 2007


"Tiffany's Window" photo by S. Auberle

Just back from a quick trip to that fantasyland place--Las Vegas--where your mind can be blown in a hundred different ways. First of all, that they dared to build this environmental disaster in the desert, but never mind, I've been on that soapbox too long. Things that stuck with me:
the weary looking woman driving the ancient Plymouth Volare with the bumper falling off and the three skull and crossbones bumper sticker beside the one that read:
"Some days all I want
is to be a missing person."
The amazing, beautiful hotel/casino called simply Wynn (after the man, who owns half of Las Vegas). I can never look at it without wondering if they would dare put up one beside it called Lose. Would anyone go there?
The conversations I had with two taxi drivers, the first an Israeli man. How good it was to connect with him and know that our conversation enhanced each other's day. The second a Vietnamese man, who kept giving me the thumbs up for America--heaven on earth--he kept saying, and how lucky he was to live here now, though when I asked him about his family he said he was single: my wife, she come over to America, make some money, then she don't like me no more--but America (thumbs up again) she is heaven! I'm so happy to be here."
Indeed, we forget sometimes, don't we? In spite of all her faults and craziness...we are blessed...

Tuesday, March 20, 2007


Photo by S. Auberle

yellow gowned flower
harbinger of days to come
a tease of new light
- mimi

Saturday, March 17, 2007


Sculpture by Suzanne Botello and Sondra Francis
Suzanne is a talented clay artist and a member of my artist's group. This piece will become the poster for the local community college fundraiser Palate to Palette, featuring art and appetizers from local restaurants. And what better combination than that? She does much more, including combining delicately beautiful faces on large platters, which I am saving to buy! For more info, contact

Friday, March 16, 2007


Photo by W. Lowe

Faith and begorra, it's me, in Ireland, awaiting my

turn to kiss the Blarney stone.

I'd walk into O'Gorman's Matchmaker Pub
and order me a poet--one of those
black Irish kind with sooty blue eyes
and long hair a-tossin' down his back
with a voice that could charm the sun
back to Ireland and we'd find us
a place where we wouldn't hear
the cows and sheep needin' to be fed
or the teakettle on the hearth
or the priest a-knockin' at the door
wantin' to discuss the wages of sin.
We'd listen to only the rain
and sing a teary ballad or two,
write all over each other
poems the whole night through.
- mimi
Pionta Guiness, le do thoil...
(a pint of Guiness, please)

Wednesday, March 14, 2007


Digitally altered photo by S. Auberle

"Fewer and fewer Americans
possess objects that have a patina,
old furniture, grandparents' pots and pans
the used things, warm
with generations of human touch
...essential to a human landscape."
- Susan Sontag
The above is an old cooking pot, from the Wagner Ware Foundry in Sidney, Ohio. It belonged to my grandmother, Rosa, may have been a wedding gift in 1912, when she married Ferdinand on an April day in St. Michael's church in Fort Loramie, Ohio.
I recall endless pots of soup simmering in this, on winter days in my childhood, and Grandma requesting my "assistance." The warm kitchen, the smells, the love--it all comes back each time I use it. It's stained and crooked and old but I swear I can feel Rosa around me when I use it. Wouldn't trade it for every piece of Calphalon I own. It's essential to my landscape, for sure...
- mimi


Photo by S. Auberle

find a dead end road, a small beach
at the end of it, lie on sun-warmed rocks
drink in the day, the lake
the fine wine of a summer afternoon
laugh, listen to the music
of beach and sky and wind
on the way home
pick berries from the roadside
crush them on your tongue
understand each taste is a prayer
paint your lips and hands with sticky red
nectar like blood, like wine, like roses
know the meaning of succulent
savor the moments of your life
for as deep and forever as you can
- mimi

Tuesday, March 13, 2007


Photo by S. Auberle

Took this photo in a dark and drab little restaurant bathroom on Whidbey Island. It was painted on the wall.
For all you out there who are getting tired of winter. ..
- mimi

Monday, March 12, 2007


Photo collage by S. Auberle

I think that I shall never see
a poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
against the sweet earth' s flowing breast;
a tree that looks at God all day,
and lifts her leafy arms to pray;
a tree that may in summer wear
a nest of robins in her hair;
upon whose bosom snow has lain;
who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
but only God can make a tree.
- Joyce Kilmer


Photo by S. Auberle

"I have nothing to say,
I am saying it,
and that is poetry."
- John Cage
"You say my poems are poetry?
They are not.
Yet if you understand they are not--
then you see the poetry of them."
- Ryokan
"Base Camp Coffee Bar is poetry..."
- mimi

Sunday, March 11, 2007


Photo by S. Auberle

"Bright morning--freezing, but less cold than before--and with a hint of the smell of spring-earth in the cold air. A beautiful sunrise, the woods all peaceful and silent, the dried old fruits on the yellow poplar shining like precious artifacts. I have a new level in my (elementary) star-consciousness. I can now tell where constellations may be in the daytime when they are invisible. Not many, of course! But for example: th sun is rising in Aquarius and so I know that in the blue sky overhead the beautiful swan, invisible, spreads its wide wings over me. A lovely thought, for some reason."
- A Year with Thomas Merton

Friday, March 09, 2007


Photos by S. Auberle

Saw a film last night that will not leave me alone. It was a documentary entitled Running Dry, about the world-wide water crisis. It's a stunning film, meant to horrify. And it does. It is a horror film, but starkly true, and only a taste of what is to come if we don't somehow find the ways to come together and heal what we've done to the earth.
Perhaps it affected me so strongly because of my own particular situation. I am blessed to divide my time between two places I love--one in the arid, drought-stricken (10th year) Southwest, and the other on the shore of a great lake in the green Midwest. The contrast is enormous.
Running Dry leaves the viewer with a variety of emotions--guilt, despair, anger and, hopefully, an energized feeling to do something, no matter how small. It's the old story: if only each of us would do one thing to help, what a difference it would make--donating money or time; learning the numerous small things that, collectively, would make a huge difference; becoming more knowledgeable about the situation and our part in it; and cultivating a deeper reverence and compassion for this beautiful global village we share.

Wednesday, March 07, 2007


Photo by S. Auberle

To all my Aquarius and Pisces friends: Grace, Susan, Carole, Dan,
Ralph, Dora, Sharon and Linda:
one perfect peace rose
a giant orange harvest moon
firelight hand-holding
the sound of owls in the night
the Milky Way in a crisp winter sky
candlelight reflections of love
a loon's cry on a clear green lake
raspberries & cream
in Sunday morning sunlight
365 days of peace, love & laughter...
Happy Birthday
- mimi


Photo by S. Auberle

These days, as my birthday approaches, I've been thinking more and more about numbers.
Of course, there's the old chestnut: if you didn't know how old you were, how old would you be? No, that doesn't quite cut it.
So then I'm thinking what if each day your outside appearance changed--to reflect the age you felt inside? Because, let's face it---how I feel inside most DEFINITELY does not match my outside. Would we be a world comprised solely of eighteen year olds? A trendy looking group in the thrall of raging hormones and insecurities? Come to think of it...
Or would we alternate--sixty one day, thirty-five the next, and occasionally twelve. That would be me.
I've been thinking a lot lately about seventeen--what a great age that was. You've passed the driving test, the sweet sixteen stuff. And yet, you're not quite forced to make grown-up decisions--job, school, taxes, etc. You've got your body and hormones fairly well under control--unless, of course, you happen to be falling in love.
I remember the night of the Jr. Prom. Of course the theme was Some Enchanted Evening. And of course the weather cooperated perfectly--sweet May night, trees just in that tender bud stage that made you want to cry, full moon sailing over the little town.
I remember my dress. Strapless gold net, shoes to match, the perfect tan to offset it.
The newest love--he didn't last, but for that night Prince Charming couldn't have held a candle to him. And by then I'd kissed a few frogs.
I would never venture a guess as to my inside age on this birthday soon to come. And I won't have a gold dress to celebrate. Most likely, sweater and jeans--in the western town where I live, a denim skirt and boots is considered dressy. But there will be a prince, though he has been known to be froggy now and then. And maybe chocolate and wine and a bouquet of spring tulips.
Life is good.
- mimi

Monday, March 05, 2007


Digital fooling around by S. Auberle

"To live in this world
you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and , when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go."
-Mary Oliver
"In Blackwater Woods."
Okay, I promise no more sunset/mortality things for awhile, but
when you're snowbound you think and do weird things and,
in my opinion, no one can read enough Mary Oliver...
- mimi

Saturday, March 03, 2007


Photo by S. Auberle

Aren't we all?
News of a friend's death today,
so many plans we had
Anna said, in a letter last week,
thanking us for being in her life.
Oh god, another margarita please,
yes and salt, lots of it.
We look at each other,
you my good, good friend,
scared silly, but silly takes over
sometimes you have to
and snow beats on the window
lightning, rain, sleet, back to snow.
We devour chips and salsa
and you tell me of your funeral bash
you have the music, the food, the party planned
Andrea Bocelli--Time to Say Goodbye
do ya think that would be over the top?
And we burst into another round of giggles.
Wind shakes the old building and
I debate the merits of cremation vs. worms,
wonder just how many parts of myself
I can divide, to be in all my beloved places.
The bar fills up with winter freaks like us
stamping snow from their boots
beer and margaritas flowing
like the still hot blood in our veins.
We eat, we giggle, we watch
the storm fighting to get at us.
I think of Anna, throw salt over my shoulder
knock on wood, cross my fingers, pray.
Laugh tears.
- mimi

Friday, March 02, 2007


Photo by S. Auberle

blue silence
of dawn
cheer, cheer
cardinal wakes me
can spring be near?
- mimi