Turn the atmospheric convection oven to a slowly increasing simmer. Melt the glaciers and ice caps to a flooding gruel. Stir tens of millions displaced humans and expiring species with increasing tornados and hurricanes.
Sip slowly this bitter broth.
Cheryl Lynn Moyer
Birth Bangs
I was shattered at birth little bits of me flying away and inwards, dazzled into endless skies unchartered by my senses.
No compass to mirror the distinction of me versus all the otherness, imprinting me by their repetitious sounds.
That eternal observer that dwells in everyone opened my inner chambers, familiarity set in.
Knowing began to leap up, singing in my throat.
'Call everything home.'
Inner chambers are without walls, ceilings, or floors. The world can fit snuggly inside, all the lost pieces returning:
'Ohmmm, ohmm, ohm, oh, O'
Cheryl Lynn Moyer
Our Last Jazz Note
Like a beloved child with aids New Orleans' soul passed on. In denial, a nation prayed it wouldn't happen, then that it wasn't so.
Katrina, that angry woman purged our primeval soul, tested our very humanness, then piously exhaled our last jazz note.
