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Friday, June 29, 2012


Simplicity and beauty in the moment.


Every morning, about this time,
a church resting about a mile from here,
rings their bells. A lawn of
apple trees, heavy with fruit,
bless the manicured grass.
Colliding pregnant clouds
mosaic the rich blue of the sky.

The church structured from
gray rectangular bricks,
planks of hard wood,
a black medieval door, a steeple
housing the flared dome of vertical music,
all equally rich in their tone,
know nothing is permanent.

When it's breezy, as it is this morning,
I can hear the echo of the bells,
a practiced toll
whispering your name in my body,
allowing me to believe in
the beauty of the universe.

I am drinking red wine in bed,
knowing the breeze this morning,
with you--
sharing the dance of church bells
feeling the damp changing air
warm, kind mottled earth,
visiting my square window.

Under the white sheets,
the downy-soft cream of feathers,
I watch you,
as you
slowly, as to not miss the silky bouquet
of swaying berries drawn to your lips, and
shimmering tendrils worship
your regal purple cheek bones,
laying in lassitude, I am
struck by being a woman.
TJKG 4-2011

Monday, June 25, 2012


Count the bottles and be proud. D.S.

Smile Therapy 21

I am in smile therapy
when my friend needs to
add extra shots
of vodka to her
Skinny Girl Pina Colada
to make it taste better.

I don't think I need to
say anything else about
the irony of adding calories.

Friday, June 22, 2012


All Quiet Desire is inspired by the icon Misia. She lived in Paris in the 30's and was a patron of the arts, matchmaker, taste-maker, collector, muse. Misia Sert, née Godebska, Queen of Paris, was the most sought after face of her time.

All Quiet Desire

Paris was truly the brash, beating heart of the art world--
through heady eras—and across timeless disciplines;
a found masterpiece saved from anonymity--
a fierce enigmatic woman left behind--
a coveted affair with charisma and beauty,
each turning avenue owning a breath of her life.

And in every light—her black-eyed charm danced
at the piano, on the porch,
having breakfast of croissant and black coffee.
A keen ear for avant-garde talent, and
her magnetic allure moved others
to create near her, or for her, or about her.
Her sweet and shy lover fell hardest;
now a mourner brooding in a corner,
the need to be artist gone absurd.

She wanted the moon to find a painted face to
leave shadows in time’s memories. She needed
endless hours in the middle of the night to create.
She wanted her grave to be filled with weeping roses,
to let allusion to be one of the weepers.
Obsession weighs more than her flesh and bones.
A hot criminal of illustrious intentions,
each resurrection sordid, a thrashing end, all
became a trove of material picked over by the needy.
Postcard-size letters, scraps of time, disregarded
crumbs of hope, little bits of a human’s soul
in a tender ode to an all quiet desire.
TJKG 6-20-2012

Monday, June 18, 2012


A laugh is a smile that bursts. Mary H. Waldrip

Smile Therapy 20

I am in smile therapy
when I watch laugh
lines on a sun-kissed face
erupt into white
star bursts around
the eyes of my friend.

I am in smile therapy
on the first day of
summer vacation. Yea!

Wednesday, June 13, 2012


The image of our self begins as vanity and merges with maturity. As the viewer who interprets the image, a symbolic duality merging with the self is recognized. Picasso once said-- Are we to paint what's on the face, what's inside the face, or what's behind it? We must feel and be affected by the art of words and embrace the changes presented in life.

The Brevity of My Looking Glass

I want you
in my hands,
for my limbs feel heavy
as I cannot see you
in the Venus of my
chambered fate.
I cannot feel the
tranquility of you;
I cannot see the
pearl of your soul
through my
secretly desired window.

Your flowered perfume--
I am holding hostage
in the blood of me.
For you my lover,
my body is starved
by the vitality of you,
by the portrait of you,
by the worldliness of you,
by the desire of one.

I gaze as a silent
witness at your
mortality through
my looking mirror;
youth’s summer vanity stored
in the boudoir of my
past. A cascade
of merging truth in the illusion
of the night, a slipping
recline of fluid slumber,
a waking climax of reality.

TJKG 6-12-12

Monday, June 11, 2012



Smile Therapy 19

I am smile therapy
when my friend's dog
intuitively understands
the need to stay cool
on a 95 degree day.

Sit and just be;
smile at the simplicity
of living.


Wednesday, June 6, 2012


I believe we accumulate life in the chambers of our heart. It is there I found inspiration and the complexity of what longing for wholeness in love is.

Internal and external are ultimately one. When you no longer perceive the world as hostile, there is no more fear, and when there is no more fear, you think, speak and act differently. Love and compassion arise, and they affect the world.
Eckhart Tolle

                                                               Photo by:TJKG

Longing for Wholeness

I do not love you in a way that is recognizable;
I love you in a way that does not appreciate words.

Love lives in the innocence of breath, the daemon of eyes,
the pierce of the unseen, the pleasure in the purity of pain.

My voice with an unselfish, loyal,
and benevolent concern
shakes from the madness of the gods,
aches from the basilisk bite,
hastens the ego of death’s drive,
the psychic desire for interconnection
wrestles with my wondering,
and pines for the interaction
with a peaceful sentient being.

While sitting patiently on the wings of my peripheral vision,
love’s purity is stolen from my pulse, and disguised as something else.

As an architect of my own despair,
my love is oddly drawn and shot into heartbreak.

Let Eros’ wings be free from the shackles of my memory,
free from the burden of fault, free from Cupid’s arrow,
resting poignantly deep in my bloody bones’ marrow.
TJKG  6-5-12

Monday, June 4, 2012


Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue, and the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true” Lyman Frank Baum


Smile Therapy 18

I am in smile therapy
when I look to the
sky and see a halo
around the sun--
hexagonal ice crystals
refracting light and
giving me the gift
of a circular rainbow
known as a sun-dog.
The exquisite parhelion
reminds us to reflect
on the brilliance of the
complexity of the earth
and the cosmos--
fire and water,
ice and heat--
harmoniously coexisting
in the perfect dance
to create beauty.