quasi-limbo week

the last week of a year
any year
in this particular instance     this year
mind you  all of this arbitrary

I am being more or less 
  outwardly indolent
this week between visitors here
a rare happening
and that impulse
 to use the inward directing winter 
 to try some things new
so I’m thinking about what newness
to pursue . . . 

my eyes stray from the screen
to a note tacked to my lunar calendar
something about compiling two poetry manuscripts
I wrote it at the beginning of 2009
and those two manuscripts are still
mind texts only
and so it goes with lists and plans
in my happily distractible state

to be fair to myself
I did finish a handful of knitting projects
with another four to be completed within days
(with another 17 or so on the needles:
proof that I have grand notions

my intent: to put a material handmade
long lasting something into the hands
of each of all my   Beloveds
a means of extending my presence
after this suzannish glee ride has come completion

I sit here eyeing an afghan my mother knitted
some 40 or more years ago
now a coverlet on an ottoman
throne of cats
yarn outlasting yarn
so I have chosen this way
of string and air
to be physically present 
in my absence

it is apt 

I call them “adult blankies”
for who doesn’t need
a large soft splash of color
lace patterned
to wrap up in
to fend off chill while
fever dreaming
to induce otherwise dream and sleep beneath
or make mad love under
who does not need this?

for we are of the warm blooded family
with a fierce need to keep the heat
around us   cells combusting without rest
to keep us warm and going on

who does not need this?

and while I knit myself
into palpable comfort for those I love
as the comforter grows in size
it covers my legs and keeps me
as do all the thoughts I have 
 about the wondrous  
for whom it is intended

my list of ToDos
as always   lengthy:
you know
you are

a splendiferous 2010 to you



winter solstice 2009

waiting swells the fertile belly
and the hungry sea
 swells of rise and fall
squalls of shore lap  land fall
jettisoned from the deep by breach
or head first into fray and glory from beneath
the prophetic caul  the caw bespoken
among crows lighting with black sheen upon
the snow of breast reading the undeciphered ley
lines of winding that crawls wind written to surge across the
meadow in its season of waiting for chlorophyllial boon
oftsprung offspring of the necessary seed freeze
waiting to green thaw