Wild Sage Press

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Tending the Tree of Life

I worked with Linus Pauling, the two-time Nobel Prize winner. He came to some of our CSF conferences. The first time I met him, I was picking him up at the airport. I expected this old guy whose luggage I would have to carry. The plane was late, so I thought he'd be really tired. But he came bouncing off the airplane with a small suitcase and a purple beret. He was a lot of fun. We had breakfast together and I thought he'd eat something really healthy but he had bacon and eggs. I was disappointed.

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We're Already Home

AISHA:     Sometimes the fear is first and the anger follows.

RUTH:      I thought Roy was going to explode. Ali, too. I'm not sure how we avoided an all-out nuclear melt down.

AISHA:     I think a Geiger counter would show some radiation has leaked into the atmosphere, though. 

RUTH:      To hell with the Geiger counter, what we need here is a giggle counter. There's been too much seriousness! You should really meet my friend at work, Annie. Now there's a lady who knows how to have a good time! 

AISHA:     Did you just say "to halal" with the Geiger counter? That's the funniest... 

RUTH:      Did I? I'm the mother of a teenager and the wife of an unhappy, retired postal worker. Anything is possible!

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Blue Grama

Blue Grama

illustrated by Heather Peat Hamm
tagged : nature
More Info

My father and I
fixing the discer
parts collected from the scrap pile
tools at hand
me the monkey
he a long lifetime of fixing and farming
I follow directions
and sweat and grit my teeth
but still
stuck somehow
the machine and us
at an impasse
I push and prod again
knuckles jamming
the metal resists
he watches quietly
guiding me
I suggest an idea
another approach
from my skinny girl head
and this man
70-plus years farming
nods and agrees to try
like the land

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Dorothy McMoogle with Kumquat and Bugle

How I'd love to play the bugle
Play it till I'm green
Get the whole street jumping
'Cause bebop is my scene

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Goldey and Funnyfin

"A seaweed house would be fun!" said Funnyfin.

Goldeye grabbed a weed with her mouth and Funnyfin grabbed a weed with his. They pulled and pulled, but the seaweed didn't budge. Goldeye flopped and flipped, then Funnyfin swerved and slipped. Goldeye had to untangle him.

"No seaweed house for us," sighed Funnyfin.

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Night Light

At sunrise even the morning star sleeps.
All those twinkles gone: each name,
trajectory, history overwhelmed
by dawn. Now they slumber like cows

in the pasture while we fill our days
with other escapades that keep
us from remembering the awe.
We go about our lives as if our sun

were an only child, this earth the only
spinning orb, our petty irritations,
thoughts, opinions, the only ones
that matter. Last night even the wind 

held its breath, windmill ceased to spin,
when the sky dropped its jeweled cloak,
gentle hymn of cows, the stars,
duet of light.

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How to Be a River

Fear of flying
Northern lights curtain the sky,
an owl repeats itself.
Coyotes keen, soprano
over the froggy bass. There are more stars
than any night should carry. Some fall,
others give birth.
     Yes, a dangerous place.
He wraps his arms
over his chest, breathes shallowly.
There is no safe place to store fear.
Anita confesses her own.
The night licks it away.

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