Public service announcement

I am starting Nursing school on August 25th! Some blather about how I am intending to take care of myself duing the next few years can be found here:

idiosyncraticdaydream.blogspot.com/2008/08/nesting.html

Wish me luck! Better yet, send coffee!

What I wanna be when I grow up

idiosyncraticdaydream.blogspot.com/2008/08/what-i-want-for-when-i-grow-up.html

I have been mostly blogging over there. A lot in the last month, actually. Check it out and feel free to leave comments.

Poetry-Emulsify

Emulsify

Wouldn't it be a fine thing
If I could just sink into you?
Blend between your molecules
Dilute myself in your breath?

I always stubbornly drift below
Or float above, never integrating.
Always with me the tiny space
Between love and belief.

I am the fire in love with the air
I consume it and inflame
But what gift can fire give to you?
Is the warmth enough if you can't touch?

I would that we were both water
And could stir together, cool as rain.
And all my faults could therein diffuse
Buffered by the goodness in you.

(c) Stacie Ferrante
7-31-08

Size guide for Melodia or Geisha Moth pants?

I'm going to start dancing again.

I'm short and curvy and want some new pants. I don't know what size/style to get.

how do you measure for length, especially? I have sorta short legs and curvy hips.

I am more than 39 and a half

I need to start planning what to do for my 40th birthday, which is in December. Any ideas?

Fragments- A poem

Fragments

Forget the lens, the open window
Look only through the cathedral stained glass.
And if you see me, flickering within
Bent around the photons, in peace leave me.

Better to be seen between the lines
Barely glimpsed, a shard in the whole.
Shattered bits of colored glass reassembled
A simulacrum of a pattern in God's realm.

See me in the lead-lined spires
In the gargoyle's leer, the swinging smoke.
See me in the blessed saint's entreating hands,
In the monstrance that carries the knuckle bone.

Behold the mosaic floor beneath your feet
And there find me in perhaps every indigo tile.
I am the wood that resides beneath the gilt,
The honey-scented beeswax, but not the candle flame.

Think not to find me in a singular place
As a penitent kneeling at the altar rail.
I am more the third from the last bead
In a long and weary rosary.

(c) Stacie Ferrante
7-1-08

How was the weekend?

In a word: Interesting. I got some good ideas and stirred up a lot of things that I will be thinking about for some time to come.

I listened to some street drummers, had a beer in a local pub, had some good coffee and scintillating conversation.

I was also homesick and at times a little lost. I came home kind of early on Sunday and had a nap in my own bed.

Zzzzzz

Strange Planet

Spinning on the periphery
A lush planet intent on a stable orbit.
It might not be the center of the universe,
But it gravitates nonetheless.



What strange creatures live there!
Endless streams of writhing lemmings
Cooing, gurgling dolphins in the spray
And thriving societies of hermit crabs.



So lovingly it rotates
Showing every continent to an effulgent sun.
In longing sighs it turns its seas
below the daily horizon.



Those darkened, paranoid chaparrals
Teem with life and wayward daydreams.
Psychropiles abound in the polar caps
And cry for light, glorious light.


(c) Stacie Ferrante
2-21-08

HANDS

Who gets to decide
Where I will lay my hands?
When did my flesh and bones
Cease belonging to me?

Fingers hesitate on buttons and keys
On skin, on lips, on knees.
Clutching like claws to fight the need
To feed the hungry integument.

Have I lost the right to tickle?
To poke, to caress, to gouge, to stroke?
I can rend the bread at table
But can only build with empty clay.

Never mind who holds the title on my lips
My hips, my back, my hair, my womb.
Just for today, I want my hands
Just fingers, palms, nails and scars.

(c) Stacie Ferrante
6-26-08