Stride

First, I notice

the easy stride. 

You move mainstream.

Two long steps for each of mine.

I think of the time

you wander to Birmingham

for that first punk album―

coins in your pocket

like the silver your grandfather earned,

walking nineteen miles

straight up the middle of Yell

to fiddle for a wedding.

Those boyish endeavors bring you luck,

make your heart beat like a drum―

ancestral rhythms, word of mouth,

a fine-tuned ear.

You offer me your arm,

my feet barely touch the ground.

We dance a simple reel of lamp-posts,

paving stones, letterboxes―

speaking of―we stop the incessant writing,
to walk what's left of our wits.

tk March 2015

*photo: Old Bank Street, Manchester, UK by R.A.D. Stainforth

A most lovely read by R.A.D. ...

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Two-step

G.I. and Lover, Hyde Park, London, 1944
Ralph Morse

Come with fiddler's reel,

quiver of leaves;

pull the tangle of branches

back from the sky.

Coax me to kick my shoes,

two-step the finest pine;

collapse in needles

at the base of the trunk.

Bark tastes my fingers

with mossy ridges,

like a green water dog

licking salt and scent.

Frost melts to dew.

I see myself in October eyes,

press the burn of summer

from your hair.

tk/October 2013 

A beautiful and unexpected midweek read by R.A.D. Stainforth...and in color too...

Bolero

The turntable of my mind

is set to schizophrenic repeat.

It plays all night.

Nonchalant dancers in Carmen-style shoes

stamp hundreds of cockroaches

in the Royal Albert Hall.

The audience watches.

They hop in preoccupied rhythm

with unchanging snare drums,

grip roses in their mouths,

all wide-eyed and wild,

bared teeth mistaken for smiles.

tk/August 2013

Many thanks to R.A.D. Stainforth for masterfully reading this poem. 

Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec

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my date to the willow manor ball

I sent out invitations to two dashing men this year ... Marcello Mastroianni ... and Ronaldo Stainforth.  Yes, the same Ronaldo Antonio Dent Stainforth, known to read my poetry in his black and white world.  The ever gracious Ronaldo was first to reply, so he will be my official date. Evidently, Mr. Mastroianni's people conveyed to him, in error of course, that I had accepted his invitation.  The fact that they look incredibly alike will complicate matters further. I might have to slip a yellow rose into Ronaldo's lapel, to keep them sorted out for the evening, since I get a bit ditzy after a few drinks.

Last year, R.A.D. arrived in a stunning blue Jag. We secretly slipped out early, after the tango, to park in a field of ferns, for a late night private poetry reading.  I can't wait to see what he arrives in this year. Speaking of the tango, he is a masterful dancer, learning at an early age, from his Argentinian mother.

No worries, since I gave him special instructions not to startle the manor guests by removing his glass eye, which he is rumored to have lost in a violent beaver attack.  He is known, at the end of the day, to slip it into a glass of icy Russian vodka. We wouldn't want anyone to mistake it for a martini olive.

In case you haven't heard about the cyber event of the year, mark your calendars. There will be a Mr. Linky widget provided for those who wish to share their dates and what they are wearing the the ball, which mysteriously lasts a whole 24 hours beginning at 12:00 a.m. on:

Sunday, October 28, 2012

Don't forget, there will door prizes chosen from everyone who attends (leaves a comment) here at Willow Manor on the 28th. When you arrive, hop on into the comment section, and join the fun.

One of the great things about a cyber ball, is that we all dance like gods and goddesses. Make sure you have your dance cards ready, because we will be rolling up the carpets at Willow Manor. Valentino said tile floor is the best for dancing the tango, but in this case, the hardwood floors at the manor will do marvelously.

 

in my best dress

With you, I'd dance

In a storm, in my best dress

Fearless

― Taylor Swift

my dream

My dream is to walk around the world. A smallish backpack, all essentials neatly in place. A camera. A notebook. A traveling paint set. A hat. Good shoes. A nice pleated (green?) skirt for the occasional seaside hotel afternoon dance.

― Maira Kalman, The Principles of Uncertainty