I should be posting more. I'm just...i don't know. I've got too much stuff going on, I think. I think I'll share this with you guys, don't ask me why. If you didn't know it, I write poetry. So I'm sharing. :)

p.s. On my screen it has an awesome format. Here, not so much. :)

It Feels like Fall

It feels like fall...
pumpkins, scarecrows, and hay
the leaves are changing
horizon full of orange and red
the days are growing shorter,
the breezes lasting longer...
it feels like fall.

It feels like fall...
because we hide our misery behind
pumpkins, scarecrows, and hay.
the leaves are changing
large patches of brown and crispy dwell
uncharacteristically among the orange and red
the days are growing shorter,
still filled with stifling heat
the breezes lasting longer...
It feels like fall.

It feels like fall...
if fall has become summer,
and we are nomads
wandering the desert,
desperate for a drink.
We remember what it felt like...
that glorious oasis, that quenching sensation.
We remember what it felt like...
Cool breezy days,
showers of falling leaves.
We remember what it felt like...
longingly,
and suddenly our once desperate hopes
of ice and snow seem minuscule.

It feels like fall.

I just found this blog on Etsy. Her family lives in the area where all the fires are going on in California. I just thought I'd share in case anyone wants to help out.

http://witch-fire.blogspot.com/2007/10/fires-fires-all-around.html

Vote Here for the Votigo contest for this week's challenge.

Traveling through the Dark
by William Stafford


Traveling through the dark I found a deer
dead on the edge of the Wilson River road.
It is usually best to roll them into the canyon:
that road is narrow; to swerve might make more dead.
By glow of the tail-light I stumbled back of the car
and stood by the heap, a doe, a recent killing;
she had stiffened already, almost cold.
I dragged her off; she was large in the belly.
My fingers touching her side brought me the reason--
her side was warm; her fawn lay there waiting,
alive, still, never to be born.
Beside that mountain road I hesitated.
The car aimed ahead its lowered parking lights;
under the hood purred the steady engine.
I stood in the glare of the warm exhaust turning red;
around our group I could hear the wilderness listen.
I thought hard for us all--my only swerving--,
then pushed her over the edge into the river.

Hey, Stellar Seller, 9/28, is DinnerTimeChimes and she makes these AWESOME chimes from cultery, like this one:

Her stuff is pretty awesome, I'm so thinking about buying one for my sister, who collects/loves windchimes. Although, probably not one with Canada on it. :) I just heart that one for myself.

Check out her interview on the Etsy Owls blog, clickie here:

http://etsyowls.blogspot.com/2007/09/stellar-seller-92807-dinnertimechimes.html

That's all for now, kiddies. :)

Since I know nobody's reading this....*smiles*

I'm the featured seller on the Owls this week ;)

Here's my interview: http://etsyowls.blogspot.com/2007/09/stellar-seller-september-21st.html

So, I'm in two poetry classes...a Creative Writing Poetry class and a Studies in Poetry class...so combined they're very interesting. In the Studies class, we're reading some Stanley Kunitz, someone who I can't decide if I like or not.

Today, we read The Wellfleet Whale and I ended up very sad inside. I can't find it online anywhere, or I'd post a link to it....but I would like to put the first numbered section up (yeah, it's one of those poems that's sooo long it has numbered sections...) so I'm typing it out. Anyway, enjoy.

You have a language too
an eerie medley of clicks
and hoots and trills,
location-notes and love calls,
whistles and grunts. Occasionally,
it's like furniture being smashed,
or the creaking of a mossy door,
sounds that all melt into a liquid
song with endless variations,
as if to compensate
for the vast loneliness of the sea.
Sometimes a disembodied voice
breaks in as if from distant reefs,
and it's as much as one can bear
to listen to its long mournful cry,
a sorrow without name, both more
and less than human. It drags
across the ear like a record
running down.

Vote on our Etsy OWLS challenge this week...you can vote at Erin's blog:

http://cagedbirdsingsstudio.blogspot.com/

So, apparently, I already have a blog here & am so stupid I forgot it. lmao. I had to figure out how to get my "blog" back after posting on it once a year & a half ago & then forgetting. Silly me.