in the air

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: ebullient.

I took this at the Great Port Townsend Bay Kinetic Sculpture Race. This is not part of the race, but our local school Robotics team, showing how many balls their robot can shoot into the air. I think the yellow balls look ebullient and the small observer is entranced. She is probably writing programs by now.

Mundane Monday #173: skies

For Mundane Monday #173, my theme is skies: not blue skies. Skies that worry me. This is a fire sky, the sun setting through smoke that we can smell. There are no big fires near us, so I don’t know if this is California, Oregon, Washington, or Idaho smoke…

Add a message with your post or a pingback and I will list them next week. There might be a delay, because I have some travel soon.

For the Mundane Monday #172 prompt: windy:

KL Allendoerfer joins in: https://klallendoerfer.wordpress.com/2018/08/06/mundane-monday-windy/

Mundane Monday #172: windy

Today’s Mundane Monday #172 theme is windy.

Last night a friend and I attended a reception at the Port Townsend Marine Science Center. A beautiful evening and windy. We were welcomed by this wind sock octopus.

 

Entries for Mundane Monday #171: faces.

KLAllendoerfer chooses clock faces.

Send a link or a comment and I will add your post next week.

And here are some of the denizens of the Marine Science Center:

orange and purple

I am posting this now, because even though it’s 6:28 am on Sunday for me, it’s already  1:28 am on the Kamchatka Peninsula, on Monday! I live more toward the tail end of Monday, so I am deciding to post on Sunday once it is Monday somewhere!

the mystic E2 dragon

We are writing a quest where we ask different people to write more about a topic. The requests are anonymous and some are for existing titles that have no write ups. This topic was given to another person and then I was asked to write about it as well. My sister was an editor on the everything2 website. She was born in the year of the dragon. She died of cancer in 2012.

_____________________

the mystic E2 dragon

 

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“They want me to write about the mystic E2 dragon.”

Laughs.

“So I think of you.”

Silence… a weight. “So it’s me?”

“No, but you are a dragon, born in the Year of the Dragon.”

“Like we’re Chinese.”

“Yeah, well.”

“And you are an ox.”

“Thanks.” I wait. “Come on, show up.”

The dragon is made of a coat hanger, a rough gold cloth and black felt hand sewn to the body, thin gold cloth on the wings, gold earrings with rubies for eyes. Probably fake rubies, I’m not sure. I made it in college, tail to curl around the neck so that it can sit upright on my shoulder when I walk around. A gold fire lizard. I gave it to my sister, who said I could take it back when she lay dying.

The dragon morphs and now fills the living room, pushing on the walls and squashing me. The scales are hard and hot!

“Stop it!” I say, “Don’t destroy the house!”

The dragon is now couch size. My couch groans under it. The dragon is very alive and smoke rises from her nostrils. It manages to look like my sister, like a dragon and like the borg all at once. Metal and wires on the left side of the dragon’s face, eye socket with a metal camera that whirrs.

“Mind the couch.” I say.

She shifts a little, not shrinking. I peel myself off the fireplace, with the ache of the metal insert and the mantel on my back.

“So.” I say, “what should I tell them?”

She narrows her eyes at me and shrugs.

“What do they want to hear?”

“You tell me.”

“Keep the site alive.”

“Yeah, ok.” I wait.

She looks around. “Your dust bunnies are dying of old age.”

“That’s ok.” I say. “They are better than a guard dog.”

She snorts smoke.

“Tea?” I say. I have it made already, on a tray. The tray was painted by one cousin, the tea cloth woven by another, the teapot made by our mother, with my poem on it.

She takes the cup and saucer delicately. Five claws on each forefoot.

“What’s it like?” I say.

Shrug again, as she sips the tea.

I wait.

“I’m not telling you. And this is your active imagination, so what a stupid question.”

“But I am talking to the unconscious.”

“Yeah, whatever. And anyhow, you’ve already decided, puny human.”

“Ox.”

“Ok.”

And here a curtains drops, while I thank her and we say goodbye.

 

Submitted to the Daily Prompt: candid.

Butterfly Girl Comes to Visit

For the Daily Prompt: carve. I think of skiing, bicycling. And I think of a piece of my heart. I wrote this in the early 2000s.

Butterfly Girl Comes to Visit

She is so beautiful with her wings
multicolored many splendored lights caught and multiplied
as she flutters

I freeze
I am an ogre
Huge and clumsy
I know from past past many times
Not to touch you
My rough fingers have brushed the tiny feathers from your wings
You cry in pain and your flight becomes erratic
My kiss is just as bad
Rough lips
If I move the wind of my passing blows you against a window
You fall stunned

I hold and crush
the box of feelings that can hurt you
Sorrow, anger, fear, dismay
Even fatigue turns my aura red
And scorches your wings

I hate to cause you pain

Fly butterfly girl
My baby needs me, my pager rings
My ogre husband stirs
The effort of holding still plain on his face
I can’t hold still much longer

Butterfly girl
Fly on home

on fire

This is an early morning photograph, downtown, not this year.

It was frightening to fly back from Wisconsin last week and have the plane descend into smoke in Seattle. The smoke from fires in British Columbia and Washington blanketed the city. I am used to descending into cloud, but smoke looks brown and was neither opaque nor transparent. Haze.

I missed the worst air, but the smoke still bothers me. One afternoon my receptionist and I both were having trouble with eye irritation from the bad air. My clinic is in a 1950s building and closing all the windows and doors is hot! No air conditioning.

I am hoping that we make changes to slow and mitigate climate change and global warming: I don’t want the world on fire!

How many summers will it take? My guess is three consecutive summers….