Chynna Chilton Invites You to Climb on Board to the Party of the Year

Close your eyes and make a wish...

Ya know if you’re feeling frozen, lonesome or blue
I think I know a remedy just for you.
Come to Barra de Navidad here on the bay
Where we all say hello while we’re on our way.

So round up some friends, you don’t have to go far
We’ll fill up some coolers and gas up the car
Bring some cerveza and make some ceviche
Climb on board, we’re off to the beach, eh!

Peace Path

Grandfather Cuts Loose the Ponies. #WeComeFromEverything

This path our people walked
one hundred two hundred                  endless years
since the tall grass opened for us
and we breathed the incense that sun on prairie
                                                    offers to sky

Si tú y yo, Teresa mía, nunca...

¡Feliz aniversario mi amor!

Si tú y yo, Teresa mía, nunca
nos hubiéramos visto,
nos hubiéramos muerto sin saberlo:
no habríamos vivido.

New York at Sunrise as Seen by Anna Hempstead Branch

The Empire State pierces the morning fog.

When with her clouds the early dawn illumes
Our doubtful streets, wistful they grow and mild
As if a sleeping soul grew happy and smiled,
The whole dark city radiantly blooms.
Pale spires lift their hands above the glooms

Irish Poet Katharine Tynan and The Wind that Shakes the Barley

There's music in my heart all day,
I hear it late and early,
It comes from fields are far away,
The wind that shakes the barley.

Confessions of a Part-time Mourner

On a daily basis, I am compelled
to read Journey's End,
my newspaper's linguistic fig leaf
for the death notices column.

I focus my morbid curiosity
on the younger ones first.

Rising

Liberation 2011 by Liz Parkin.

I’ve HAD the silent TREATMENT
It BEGS for ME to SHOUT
I can’t take all the QUIET
RIOT! Get IT out!!
Yes, you THOUGHT that you could GOAD me

Peaches

Sorting peaches in Georgia. #WeComeFromEverything

A crate of peaches straight from the farm
has to be maintained, or eaten in days.
Obvious, but in my family, they went so fast,
I never saw the mess that punishes delay.

The Second Nocturne of Mildred Hagg

Once hills I knew would lose their
    shape at night;
A moon would half tones of old
    ivory be;
Soft night sounds and half-uttered
    words diffuse

Checking Out at Lent

A kharmic connection at the checkout line?

Something
brought me here
It wasn't the car
I rode in for 13 hours
Carving a slice
through America's breadbasket
It was something else