Purple-faced sun

Purple-faced sun is setting. We’re watching the sunset like you asked me to

when I picked you up at your walnut front door. Now you’re sitting

on off-white sand that powders your sun-tanned legs beneath your pink and lilac dress and

our shoulders are touching beside each other. I’m caressing

your soft white hand and I wish that the sun would go on so I ask

don’t know how to say this maybe I should kneel but I turn to you and look halfway

into your eyes will you I said to you will you I see your face glowing will you I love you 

marry me? So you stare back at me your face still glowing as the softness spreads across

your cheeks. What did you just say? you ask me and your eyes blink as the sun almost dips

into the blue-green of the sea. I don’t know yet how to repeat it when you asked me

What did you just say? I fumble for a dark blue-grey velvet case and pull out of my pocket

less proficient at the art than a magician and his rabbit out of his black top hat here’s a ring

I bought at Diamond District when you wondered where did I go last month? I was looking

for the multifaceted diamond ring, with light streaming through in a kaleidoscope of colors

to radiate close to your blue eyes staring into mine, the most precious and rarest

color of diamonds unearthed holding my breath. The purple-faced sun is setting, and we’re still on the sand with this painted spectacle when all the colors mix together. You drop

your eyes and catch the glint of the rock I bought at Diamond District and then you stare

back at me waiting for me so I’m not Hercules at the moment I’m a man

making his promises saying I will make you happy and I will wipe your tears and I will

never leave you waiting on the doorstep alone. I will not, your eyes are glistening,

go missing again you know now I only bought the rock to fit on your finger. Look and

watch me, I will never leave you because you will always be in my washed heart and my warmed-over thoughts. I’ll think about you even if the sky starts pouring big wet drops right now or if it’s malevolently hot out, whatever becomes, I love you. The purple-faced sun

will be jealous.

Whiff

It smells like

fresh laundry

In open air

Mountains

Where long tall grass meets the

sky and

breeze meets me as You

compose the lines and

I sing a line of

melody. It’s a song of

Hope reverberating through

the clean crisp air that smells like

apples then trickling down

streams of

Assurance.

I see

something that reminds me of

heaven as if I had stepped right into it, or

it stepped right into me and it feels like breezes

like a stream of sparkling cool

and fire tingling in your ears

as you rush

for embrace.

PRIMA DONNA

Photo Journal

Snippets...

ADVENTURES OF HUCKLEBERRY FINN, Mark Twain

I never felt easy till the raft was two mile below there and out in the middle of the Mississippi. Then we hung up our signal lantern, and judged that we was free and safe once more. I hadn't had a bite to eat since yesterday, so Jim he got out some corn-dodgers and buttermilk, and pork and cabbage and greens--there ain't nothing in the world so good when it's cooked right--and whilst I eat my supper we talked and had a good time. I was powerful glad to get away from the feuds, and so was Jim to get away from the swamp. We said there warn't no home like a raft, after all. Other places do seem so cramped up and smothery, but a raft don't. You feel mighty free and easy and comfortable on a raft.

THEIR EYES WERE WATCHING GOD, Zora Neale Hurston

[Grandma] was borned in slavery time when folks, dat is black folks, didn't sit down anytime dey felt lak it. So sittin' on porches lak de white madam looked lak uh mighty fine thing tuh her. Dat's whut she wanted for me － don't keer whut it cost. Git up on uh high chair and sit dere. She didn't have time tuh think whut tuh do after you got up on de stool uh do nothin'. De object wuz tuh git dere. So Ah got up on de high stool lak she told me, but Pheoby, Ah done nearly languished tuh death up dere. Ah felt like de world wuz cryin' extry and Ah ain't read de common news yet.

Sakura, D.C.

It was a lovely time--that Saturday morning. Raining. No crowds. A little wet. Light breezes. Cold. But we had it all to ourselves, it seemed.