boysenberryparapluie.blogspot.com
Boysenberry Parapluie: HOME
http://boysenberryparapluie.blogspot.com/2012/02/home.html
Poetry by Kathleen Waller. Saturday, February 25, 2012. Home is the non-place. Of warmth. Cocooning. With future imaginaries filling lazy hours. Conveniently forgetting to get up off the couch. Walls disintegrate from my slow breath’s. Steady stream—inhaling the apartment’s musty objects,. Exhaling dreamlike sequences of memories. Their vibrations crumble the ceiling. In a dissonant reach. Freshening white noise. Creates time, space—chronotopic virtual richness. Of abstractions. Being is prospective.
boysenberryparapluie.blogspot.com
Boysenberry Parapluie: August 2010
http://boysenberryparapluie.blogspot.com/2010_08_01_archive.html
Poetry by Kathleen Waller. Saturday, August 28, 2010. Asphalte at the Sheung Wan Civic Center May 30, 2010. Incessently spinning, balanced. On the second vertebrae past. His hoodie - historicity. The spin lasts forever. Til he pops arched feline style, up. And snap - backupside down. In a handstand pose. People cluster, circling. Keeping hollowed performance space. Free, filled with invisible energy. Tapping off one audience member. And zipping to the next as they focus on the center. One time, one space.
boysenberryparapluie.blogspot.com
Boysenberry Parapluie: April 2011
http://boysenberryparapluie.blogspot.com/2011_04_01_archive.html
Poetry by Kathleen Waller. Monday, April 25, 2011. Owl’s Head, Maine. In the flight path at water’s edge. The fog killed a woman. Her plane hit that rock over there. But she was alone – maybe. She could have reached. Enlightenment in that cockpit. The fog would have known. If Heaven exists, fog. Is clearly a form of its power. Bridging ocean, plane, bridge. With the sky – now invisible. Like an opening to a time warp. The tiny water particles. Carrying, bouncing light of. My ears hear boats and planes.
boysenberryparapluie.blogspot.com
Boysenberry Parapluie: December 2009
http://boysenberryparapluie.blogspot.com/2009_12_01_archive.html
Poetry by Kathleen Waller. Tuesday, December 22, 2009. From Hong Kong to Boston, December 19, 2009. Just off the plane. Blizzard waiting, throwing. Spattered with opaque ice particles. Snow like Julia Child's omelettes. Fluffed by who holds. A handle incessantly moving. Shaking up my life - my skin. Is not used to the fifty degree fahrenheit drop. Not noticing until rosy cheeks last through next dawn. Running in a snowstorm. Better than Buddhist leg-crossing meditation. It is easy to be here. King and Ga...
boysenberryparapluie.blogspot.com
Boysenberry Parapluie: From Hong Kong to Boston, December 19, 2009
http://boysenberryparapluie.blogspot.com/2009/12/from-hong-kong-to-boston-december-19.html
Poetry by Kathleen Waller. Tuesday, December 22, 2009. From Hong Kong to Boston, December 19, 2009. Just off the plane. Blizzard waiting, throwing. Spattered with opaque ice particles. Snow like Julia Child's omelettes. Fluffed by who holds. A handle incessantly moving. Shaking up my life - my skin. Is not used to the fifty degree fahrenheit drop. Not noticing until rosy cheeks last through next dawn. Running in a snowstorm. Better than Buddhist leg-crossing meditation. It is easy to be here. Impressioni...
boysenberryparapluie.blogspot.com
Boysenberry Parapluie: Hanoi Lake Ladies
http://boysenberryparapluie.blogspot.com/2009/12/hanoi-lake-ladies.html
Poetry by Kathleen Waller. Tuesday, December 15, 2009. Gyrating - in syncopated harmony. Tai chi has evolved in this country. Vietnamese women with soft middles. Stay flexible and vulnerable. As passersby chuckle in respect. They jump and kick in private gyms. Lacking value beyond bodily development). I wonder who hires the instructor? She has them: touching,. Massaging shoulders in a train. Something is slightly naughty in this scene. As if husbands watching are reminded. Lei Yu Mun Village, Hong Kong.
boysenberryparapluie.blogspot.com
Boysenberry Parapluie: Disruption
http://boysenberryparapluie.blogspot.com/2011/01/disruption.html
Poetry by Kathleen Waller. Sunday, January 23, 2011. Seven o’clock sidewalk. Along in riptide waves. Predicting their paces,. I weave to the beat –. Jay-Z blasting “New York”—. Keeping my glaring lime phoned head. Up, constantly seeking the route after. Long commute; my flat beckons. Ahead, I spy rhythms unpredictably. Switches left, carts amuck. I close in on the scene. Moving straight on, no divergence. In my curiosity driven path. Of place. On the. Space twenty centimeters ahead. I bend, drop it in.
boysenberryparapluie.blogspot.com
Boysenberry Parapluie: January 2011
http://boysenberryparapluie.blogspot.com/2011_01_01_archive.html
Poetry by Kathleen Waller. Sunday, January 23, 2011. Seven o’clock sidewalk. Along in riptide waves. Predicting their paces,. I weave to the beat –. Jay-Z blasting “New York”—. Keeping my glaring lime phoned head. Up, constantly seeking the route after. Long commute; my flat beckons. Ahead, I spy rhythms unpredictably. Switches left, carts amuck. I close in on the scene. Moving straight on, no divergence. In my curiosity driven path. Of place. On the. Space twenty centimeters ahead. I bend, drop it in.
boysenberryparapluie.blogspot.com
Boysenberry Parapluie: Asphalte at the Sheung Wan Civic Center May 30, 2010
http://boysenberryparapluie.blogspot.com/2010/08/asphalte-sheung-wan-civic-center-may-30.html
Poetry by Kathleen Waller. Saturday, August 28, 2010. Asphalte at the Sheung Wan Civic Center May 30, 2010. Incessently spinning, balanced. On the second vertebrae past. His hoodie - historicity. The spin lasts forever. Til he pops arched feline style, up. And snap - backupside down. In a handstand pose. People cluster, circling. Keeping hollowed performance space. Free, filled with invisible energy. Tapping off one audience member. And zipping to the next as they focus on the center. One time, one space.
