Ancestors

I see shadows
whisper to me from the corners of walls,
women’s voices sharing secrets
of ages past.

My ages past
as I am a shadow to them
my ancestors.
I am echo of a pungent past.

The Baby*

A home spun baby I be,
dropped from old yellow
man moon
on a warm winter’s day,
I came in the worldly way.

My breath carries spring time,
my laugh
summer’s ripened fruit,
my hair the falling of the leaves.
I am winter’s child too.

An ordinary baby,
I be,
miracle of worlds.

*Pink Chameleon, Issue 6…

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Only, here and there, an old sailor,
Drunk and asleep in his boots,
Catches tigers
In red weather.

Wallace Stevens,
from Disillusionment of Ten O’Clock

O Sweeney, come forth and articulate,
convey the nightingale’s face!  The chill of

a word vocalized, true anodyne.
One syllable moves beneath the teeth.

What brings “what?”- both anointed and coined.
The tongue is a type of illusionist.

We are each understood by the other,
in good silence, or in between.  The noun

is centralized, a bright platinum.
Sentences fly, written by their seasons,

or they wait on the freeway medians
with all of our …

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The award is presented to a graduating senior
from a Tri-Valley High School by June

It annually provides undergraduate support
for a student who intends to prepare for Arts & Science
and who will have completed 2 foreign language courses
within the first year at the enrolled college or university.
Academic merit and recognizable accomplishments
with interest in pursuing languages or linguistics
are considered.

Contact Us for more information…

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