poet-at-large patti sinclair

want to sink into my life
this earth, changing all these plans
into dirt, throw a fist full
of seeds, dance on them
bleed them into wine
and I will sink, sink

as drink becomes my body
seeds become my soul
and green shoots
through the muck
of all
these plans

[c] 2009 patti sinclair

windows translucent with steam

a dried sunflower, intact queen anne's lace

windowsill full of tools for the day

one navy, one sage towel

tea tree shampoo

outside, a paused birch aspen

watches over

its slow decline

plastic rinse cup

alchemical tarot deck

memoir from a neighbouring province

locally thrown mug

steady on it base, funneling

upward with attentive lupines

naked pit

from one discovered plum tree

eyes looking, wondering

if it is all

enough

(c) 2009 patti sinclair

pour out my mind
into the alchemist’s retort

bottom of an hour glass

open mouth

a landscape
of simple lines
sheets of white, gold, and blue

canvas of my life

vessel full

{C} 2009 patti sinclair

http://redearthwomenpresents.wordpress.com

some knowing we don't
have to struggle
stir things up

can we say what is
truth, reality, darkness, light?
how we go forward, how long it
will take to find the tribe we belong
to, when and if we arrive
to see justice and love the way
we wanted

after judgement

how is it we feel we are
going to live forever and where
along the way we believed we
are the chosen ones

where in hell we picked that up

winters of our lives how
they hold such depths
soothing

women the healers now

drum us down to rivers
love of child
how each meeting
is like a bead
for stringing

and there

room for patience,
observance
bust-open-love

[c] 2009 patti sinclair

starts sept. 17 09!

redearthwomenpresents.wordpress.com

sleeping in the basement

for a full and

half moon

free-falling

told the window

i do not

open

pass through the pane

of power, congestion,

circulation

creation

not

many reminders -

being under

and all

i look:

long silver screw

hole

locked white to keep

the unwanteds

out

silver bar

which snaps

it closed

just a pluck away

from fresh freakish air

unfurling

ball of tolerance

bouncing

throw an apple up to air
cut it to a flame

bouquet of white flesh
borders bloom of red
column of heart's lips
reaching spring's light

© 2009 by Patti Sinclair

been sa long since i writ ya
a pome

life just had a stroke
sh'said rehab duz wonders

they hav each oter them grls

and Ise tinks of ya
ya daz bithday day na
yr mum ner a yeer
and Ise went t'us be sestrs
kissin cuzins calld us
how weese playd rode swam t'githr
grews up

live in paradice nw
cum vizit
Ise miss ya

{C} 2009 patti sinclair

is no entrance to the sadness
in her heart, this

the grand burden, the one mercy
swirls around, spirals within,
corkscrews to the stone

caught

in the throat

light comes through the plank-boards

the stone of sadness,
the shame
its threat to cut the winds

and the worst

worn and water-logged I can still
beckon the chant

no place for this
no place for this

this alone


if I lived without restriction
this is what I'd tell you

able to name it

its clean verticalness
how it puts its frame around

restricts

and your softness
your love would cup me
and I would not die if I hit
the water, the wings
you would place on my back
as careful as a thread in the eye
of the needle, my fall-

a billowing skirt

so I write and write these postcards
yet nothing delivers

simply

if I lived without restriction
I'd say
loneliness

© 2009 Patti Sinclair