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Some Days Are Silver

May. 30th, 2009 03:27 pm today's prayer




these falling

days bruise,

I follow

learned sleepwander;

5 a.m. brings

half-lit trance,


dreamshaken elm

stirs, buoyed buried

scorpio grip conceals

intricate tentacles

beneath libra

rustleleaf branch-dance,



& when did I become

unwilling roots

channeling oxygen

hold on

hold up

or sky will fall?


one more day

unfurls. if I believed,

once, it was long

ago. Stubborn

morning moon

won't dim, it's true,


your never-

go-out light


when stars leave,

does not illuminate,

I turned from faith

& no only,


& know

now only this:

when sleep leaves,

hold still, believe,

what is source,

ringed heart

fed by well-water,

waits beneath

returns. well.

you know my clumsy

start, how I turn,

& these dark days

when I stumble,

shake me awake.



By Melissa Sillitoe

May 2009 / Portland, OR

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Apr. 16th, 2009 09:46 am

Latest News Releases 
Oregon Statewide Unemployment Rate for March 2009
Contact:  David Cooke, Economist
(503) 947-1272

Oregon’s Employment Situation: March 2009
Oregon’s seasonally adjusted unemployment rate rose to 12.1 percent in March from 10.7 percent (as revised) in February. The state’s unemployment rate has risen rapidly and substantially over the past nine months, from a rate of 5.9 percent in June 2008. The U.S. seasonally adjusted unemployment rate rose to 8.5 percent in March, from 8.1 percent in February.

In March, Oregon’s seasonally adjusted nonfarm payroll employment declined by 14,000 jobs, following a drop of 22,800 (as revised) in February.

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Mar. 2nd, 2009 04:15 pm poem: any green day unfolds pink

any green day unfolds pink

Maybe you're right,
colorblind and right,
these indigo leaves
I call turquoise
are summerlit green.  We guess.
At sundown, we'll see true.
So, these roses we don't choose,
we name their hues? Red?
I'll tell you later.  We pick
petals and thorns. Maybe.
Maybe I choose to believe.
And you're right, camellias
bloom in an iris.  We don't show
what shuteyes hold.  All I know:
what stays, eyes closed?
Stickybud twig, leaf to oak,
sparrowsong. Your birdbeat wrist. 
Maybe I name sunlight.
Maybe I believe
white lies.  I mean, I know
we'll die.  You know it, too.
Soon.  Now:  Eden!
What can we do?  Goldedged
day falls from sky's beak. Any
green day unfolds pink. All we need.

By Melissa Sillitoe

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Jan. 10th, 2009 01:24 pm wow

Absolutely everything about right now, today, everything and everyone in my life, is exactly how I want it to be. 

That doesn't mean that everything is perfect in every area of my life. It's still annoying to carry home groceries and library books because I got too many of both, but now I have books and CDs for tomorrow and honey for breakfast tea and maple syrup for pancakes tomorrow....I would have liked to have finished a poem or spent more time writing this week....

What I mean is that everything I need to be happy in each color of my life exists right now, and there is more than enough of it. And all I need to do is savor...and believe.

Current Mood: gratefulgrateful
Current Music: Shins

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Dec. 30th, 2008 08:59 pm the poem we three wrote


Read more...Collapse )




FIRST POEM by rickj:

"response to nicholas hall’s picture "fear of ghosts" posted 11/16 "

sun-bathed relent-less-ly they
are trying
and trying proves them-
water-poured through glass
too weak to lemon-
we will
love strangers with dog-like affection
lick them with wood smiles
wet as if skin
sweats with warm sunday feeling-
we are here and being, if reluctant
and we too cannot be poured through glass
though we try...

this wonder dissolves


1:10 PM - 2 Comments - 3 Kudos - Add Comment -

Nicolas Hall

SECOND POEM by Nicolas Hall:

It an abrupt awakening
To the sound of a glass rattled
Outside and within

Maybe now
To be half-tinted rose
Or lemon yellow
A hue that hides the whitewash blankness
We never want to see

Who is pouring who?
And into what half empty or half full heart?

Or just a glass
Left to sit on a nightstand
The colors further tempered through the same odd eye
That we never
To use

thanx rick!


THIRD POEM by Melissa Sillitoe

what force draws us
to this particular day
beneath this one
still wet rainsky,
larger than any imagining?
this room where two hours
are spent alone and with.

I arrive
tepid, fragile,
wanting heat wanting to be
surrounded by conversation
not at its center
wanting porcelain-sized
warmth but no more
enough to half-thaw
choosing one particular
unassigned table
today's eucharist:
coffee, bread,
notebook, pen, library book pile.

I search for words,
let strangers' muted
confessions and explanations,
barista-chosen songs

Posted by PinkPixie on Dec 29, 2008 2:35 PM
[Reply to this]

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Dec. 16th, 2008 08:27 pm

Broke the Dream of Surface


broke the dream of surface-
and gasped for air-
i fell
and realized i was dying
when eyes no longer served as

--Rick J

Age six, still piscean,
water-coaxed and pixie-led,
bored on blue-tiled land,
inhaling chlorine and faith,
I first dangled
toes in deep:

what waited:
transparent sky.
Why resist?
I let go,
slipped beneath, fell
past warning, applause.
So easy, that immense seduction,
my blue-tiled solid landing.
I could see, but no voice
buoyed daytime night.
Did I hold my breath?
The forbidden, heaven,
waited at my feet, and
god was not above, but beneath.
When rescue arrived,
navy trunks and outstretched arms,
I choked. The spell broke.
These days, I know how:
cautious surrenders,
my dead-man-floats.

I'll close my eyes, mid-dive.
I'll propel past unnecessary skies.

It doesn't matter. I am still there,
nine feet above no control,
and now, treading water,
make-believing roots,
I dream of dissolve, not flight.
By Melissa Sillitoe
December 2008 / Portland, OR

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Nov. 15th, 2008 01:35 pm gay marriage

Personally, I think that marriage should be a private ritual and not legally sanctioned, but whatever. If it is, then it's a civil right. I am so proud of Salt Lake City for fighting the Mormon church on this one, and I'm glad that the rest of the US is taking notice. I hope that Mormon-owned businesses are boycotted. There are good Mormon people who are not homophobic, and one of them reads this journal, but their leadership needs to know that this type of discrimination is unacceptable to most Americans--some of whom didn't vote, sadly--and won't be tolerated. The LDS church can have any bigoted agenda it likes, but when they delve into political and civic life, they deserve the consequences of their actions. I've watched the Mormon church exercise a stranglehold on an otherwise progressive, ethnically diverse, more than 10% gay/lesbian Salt Lake City. And yes, what I said applies to the Catholic church, too, but you can't be from Salt Lake City and not feel personally affected by this particular entrenched conservative force. It's time for Christianity to rid itself of judgment and to embrace the opportunity to actually bring hope, peace, and love to a very troubled world. For example, the Mormon church has a great humanitarian aid track record. When Salt Lake City was chosen as the location of a Hurricane Katrina resettlement camp, people waited in line for two hours to have the privilege of donating food and supplies to people who needed them. It's time for another spiritual sea change; this is such an incredible waste of time and so divisive, all of this judgment, so tiresome, and so fundamentally un-Christian.

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Nov. 13th, 2008 06:43 pm same poets with a few edits by Dan Raphael

*Poets Dating Poets*

 I didn't lie, and I ain't saying I told the whole truth.

I didn't know this game we were playing even had a set of rules./

  --Modest Mouse

   You said, it's inevitable:

   we'll make love. I said,

   there is only always, darling,

   but not now. We'll try fiction,

   fall in love chapter eight. Each day,

   we reinvent: resist, embrace.

   On Burnside, you asked, what season today?

   Freefall? And we kissed. Again.

   We're poets,intensity experts,

   we force restraint. Touch

   without touching. Refused

   to refuse you. All winter,

   rain-heavy sky deepens,

   we accidentally fall asleep

   together.I memorize your heat,

   today's dim lilac-leaved, almost light.

   I trace words I won't delete, write.

   Sunday afternoon, your voice colors

   my notebook's pages. Love,

   I can spend years here,

   believing paradox.

   How we are: poets. Salamanders

   don't burn, we absorb heat.

   We didn't write an ending.

   Inevitable, and we didn't.

   I did not stop. We left.

   Did not stop. Now: we write,

   two coffee tables apart. We won't

   name this present absence.

   I love you:

   unresolved stanzas,

   and the words I keep.

By Melissa Sillitoe
October 2008 / Portland, OR

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Nov. 4th, 2008 03:48 pm ready

Ah, there's nothing as sweet as having the gallery ready for First Thursday on First Tuesday. Cookies baked, tablecloth on the counter, etc. Just need the artists to hang their art tomorrow, pick up the wine, change the litter box right before guests arrive. The usual gallery routine.


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Sep. 14th, 2008 09:28 am new york times clipping

Paul Krugman writes re: Sarah Palin's and John McCain's distortions of truth:

"I’m talking, instead, about the relationship between the character of a campaign and that of the administration that follows. Thus, the deceptive and dishonest 2000 Bush-Cheney campaign provided an all-too-revealing preview of things to come. In fact, my early suspicion that we were being misled about the threat from Iraq came from the way the political tactics being used to sell the war resembled the tactics that had earlier been used to sell the Bush tax cuts. And now the team that hopes to form the next administration is running a campaign that makes Bush-Cheney 2000 look like something out of a civics class. What does that say about how that team would run the country?

What it says, I’d argue, is that the Obama campaign is wrong to suggest that a McCain-Palin administration would just be a continuation of Bush-Cheney. If the way John McCain and Sarah Palin are campaigning is any indication, it would be much, much worse."

How can we let them lie to us? How did we become so completely fear-oriented and easily manipulated?

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