from
FORESTER MOTHS
K.A. Efetor
G.M. Tarmann

Please Do Not Become A Moth

I’ve caught you beginning to look crepuscular,
soft and lost, your edges singed by simple daylight;
at your sides, arms now part wing – like two flags
of surrender the enemy never bothered to notice.
Loss has shrunk you so much even a sparrow
might devour you. When I see you again, I know
you will look like just a man. But once the buried
secret reveals itself, that darkness only grows. So I’m
making sure the moon knows how much you need
its soft cool glow. And I’m folding tin foil into flowers,
filling them with sugar, tying them to leafless branches,
one way of adding a little bit of summer to what now
can only be winter. To me, you will not be coming home
again ever, though home is still my hope for you.

What Happens To Money In My House

A wonderful artist friend sent me a check to pay for something that didn't need to be paid for. After the check
had been in my house for a few hours,
it mysteriously transformed into what you now see. Non-negotiable, I'd say.

Once in awhile, usually on a rainy evening, it becomes visible. . .

When I was twenty eight, I had a dream about a raven who
came to my door with a ring in its beak. A wishing ring. I
still wear it though your first impulse might be not to believe me.
It is, after all, made of dream-metals and so, invisible. . .

Two Hundred Million Reasons to Love Crows #1.

There are about two hundred million reasons to love crows. The first one is:
they are more glossy beautiful than Marilyn Monroe or fresh asparagus or opera by Puccini or clouds shaped like the lost hanging gardens of Babylon or. . .

Swept Up Whole/Kay Ryan

SWEPT UP WHOLE

You aren't swept up whole,
however it feels. You're
atomized. The wind passes.
You recongeal. It's
a surprise.

-Kay Ryan

Belonging

This is my last sunflower. It opened yesterday and isn't just leaning toward the sun. It flattens itself at noon to be a plate, just in case the sun should decide to fall. This sweetie says,"I'll
catch you!"

Have been watching bees all afternoon. They're taking turns with this sunflower. One after another. And they each rotate around once counter-clock wise, as if to say -- you humans tell time backwards. It's really only a matter of how much pollen you can carry away from each blossom. I agree.

I love how much this bee looks like its flower no matter which flower it's on!

One of the most beautiful days on earth. Everything in the garden, from dragonflies, to big fat honey bees, to me -- all soaking in the late, warm light.

Late blossom hoping to become eggplant. I may have to repot the plant and bring it indoors but I'm willing. . .

Marigolds

Origin of the word marigold:
Middle English from the given name Mary, referring to the Virgin Mary + dialect gold

Used for:
tooth aches
headaches
swellings
strengthening the heart
soups
stews
mashed into oil & put
on wounds
festivals
draws evil humors out of the head
strengthens eye sight
stimulant
remedy for pain and bee sting
marigold water in the eyes helps one to see
spirits
herb of the sun
love charms
causes a witch to lose her will
added to pillows to encourage prophetic or psychic dreams
effective in stopping gossip
good for mixing with chicken feed--turns the eggs
extra yellow and the chickens, too
healing skin lotions

If I were telling time by the garden, I'd say that summer is finally here.

Moon Man McBride

Here lies Moon Man who loved to run on what he called his Millennium Wheel or sometimes, The Eye, I'm on the London Eye! He'd go for 10 mouse-miles then stop to wash his whiskers, ears and rosebud nose. Then snack on a seed or berry or a long dried strand of timothy hay and be on his way again on the yellow wheel. As if this journey were brand new, one of a kind, never to happen again. And slept all day in a tea box house, on a bed of shredded grass and bits of pillow stuffing. And he took sunflower seeds from my hand, never failed to peek out of whatever hiding place he was in when I called his name. One of a kind, bright little zen friend, laid to rest on a bed of zinnias, marigolds and fresh mint. He will be so missed.

Beautiful enough to be stained glass. Or the kind of coins they used in Oz or Atlantis.

Don't know what these are but all I can say is I wish my hair looked like this! Whatever they are, they're tiny,
only about the size of the fingernail on your pinkie.

Their heads are beginning to grow heavy. They stop watching the sun and lean toward the earth. So full of riches. Bees and song birds have been feasting. But every sunflower leaves the ghost of itself behind and so they cannot fail to reappear next year.

Except for some hardy tomatoes, everything edible from the garden vanished weeks ago, either eaten by slugs and/or woodchucks or drowned in the monsoons of June. But today, in the back of the garden, I discovered one tiny eggplant! Worth its sweet little weight in gold. Below -- a picture of its actual size.