The Poetry

A warning,

A blessing,

A feast for the senses.

Today the stink bug stank on me.

Along a road were two ants.

I’m sorry I could not have trampled them both

and upon this day

I’m sad to say

I stomped the ant less trampled.

(with thanks to Robert Frost and Darby Conley)

I first met them in the San Juan Mountains:

swarms of gorgeous black and white woodcut prints

hung from golden mountain wildflowers,

wings long smooth drooping curves

with a melancholy nostalgia about them.

Their red patches glowed like haunted eyes.

They had the elegance of Chinese lacquer.

I eagerly sought their name,

then all their glamour faded:

police car moth.

I am a cuckoo leafcutter bee

living in this cuckoo world

there are so many loud sounds which blind me

make me want to hide

must be the square-shaped devices all the humans hold in their hands

giant towers

protruding out of the earth

I can’t find my way

I can’t feel my senses

I feel cuckoo

sparkling crenelated iridescent green

spangles sun-glowed goldenrod

like busy sequins harvesting summer

she won’t raise a brood,

preys on the kindness of strangers instead

I learn a new word for uninvited guest:

inquiline,

one who cohabits

while another raises her young

we’re not all made for the task –

some of us

just want to sparkle

some just shine

Glimmering Teachers

A hatch out of tiny dragonflies 

glimmers on my jacket and helmet 

as I glide past the pond. 

The dragonflies have come to teach me. 

I am illuminated by this species. A species 

that is over 325 Million years old. 

Damaris Methner;  Journal Entry 5.17.2023

Beautiful winged friend,

landing on a petal as softly as a snowflake

landing on the surface of a pond.

Let it melt.

Graceful winged friend,

lift your wings and catch the wind.

Let it fill you with the hope and beauty

of a new day,

a new flight,

a new destination.

You are special,

winged friend –

you should know.

I renounce the violence,

the greed that simmers

through our humanity,

the lies that gouge into my heart.

I ache for the clear ripples of voice,

climbing like clematis the lattice of song,

pleading a return

to the unifying light

of the forever sun.

We are nearly extinct

in this tar pit

of our making.

We have come to the edge

of suffocating madness.

It is hard to breathe.

Honrando a Cihuacóatl

Oh mujer serpiente, que desde el origen de los tiempos has guiado en la vida.

Patrona de parteras, sangradores y comadronas.

Creadora de estelas

Para aquellas que mueren en el parto.

Florecedora, dadora de vida y tierra fértil.

De lo diestro y lo siniestro, lo solar y lo lunar.

Con tus nombres te conocemos

Quilaztli, gran Coatlicue. Coyolxauhqui

Maninalxóchitl, Huitzilin Cuatec y Yaocihuatl.

Mujer de místicos rituales.

Que con la molienda de los huesos del gran Quetzalcóatl sacados del inframundo, como

Quilaztli creaste a la humanidad.

Madre de Mixcóatl, diosa de la encrucijada, que sufres por la pérdida de tus hijos.

Presagios de la conquista, del dolor y de la desgracia. Tu llanto se sumerge en el lago de

Texcoco.

Poderosa Cihuacóatl, que fortaleces a los guerreros.

Lado femenino del cosmos, el que regula las aguas.

Te convocamos y clamamos, que no dejes crecer las hambrunas, la sequía y la pobreza.

Diosa de poder, que te hermanas con Huitzilopochtli, Xipe-Totec, Tezcatlipoca y Huehuetéotl.

En tu templo Tlillancalco, lugar de abundante negrura, en la gran Tenochtitlán, compartes

morada con Huitzilopchtli. Oh poderosa Cihuacóatl, Oh gran tenochca.

Que tu voz y tu figura, nunca sean olvidadas.

Honoring Cihuacoatl

Oh, serpent woman, who has guided in life from the beginning of time.

Patron saint of healers, bleeders, and midwives.

Maker of Sky trials

For those who die in childbirth.

Flowering, giver of life, and fertile land.

Of the right and the sinister, the solar and the lunar.

With your names, we know you

Quilaztli, great Coatlicue. Coyolxauhqui

Maninalxóchitl, Huitzilin Cuatec and Yaocihuatl.

Women of mystical rituals.

That with the grinding of the bones of the great Quetzalcóatl taken from the underworld, as

Quilaztli you created humanity.

Mother of Mixcóatl, goddess of the crossroads, who suffers for the loss of your children.

Omens of conquest, pain, and misfortune. Your crying submerges in the Texcoco lake.

Powerful Cihuacóatl, who strengthens warriors.

The feminine side of the cosmos, the one that regulates the waters.

We summon you and cry out, that you do not let famines, drought, and poverty grow.

Goddess of power, who is sister to Huitzilopochtli, Xipe-Totec, Tezcatlipoca, and Huehuetéotl.

In your temple Tlillancalco, a place of great blackness, in the great Tenochtitlán, you share a

home with Huitzilopchtli. Oh, powerful Cihuacóatl, Oh great Tenochca.

May your voice and your figure never be forgotten.

Jaguar Flower Moth

not a jaguar

but is a moth

fashionable pattern

across its body

brown, beige, yellowish gold

a Coloradan moth

Jumping Spider

hops

leaps

as it weaves its web

out of delicate

silk

she spins a sticky

trap

hoping to catch a

snack

Leafcutter Ant

cuts plants

to grow its food

of fungus

for its family

it toils

then brings leaves

into the soil

to grow food

for its family

malachite, magnificent

feeling breeze against her wings

sun rays speckling her

flying, flapping higher

lands on my shoulder

gentle legs

the smell of tropical flowers

like candy to my nose

We have a policy: Take them out!

Whenever a little guy comes in the house

Insects of all sorts can wander inside

So let’s help them stay alive

Give them a gentle scoop in a cup

Tell them their time isn’t quite up

Take them outside where they’ll live out their days…

Until a predator comes and takes them away

Raven comes to my garden

in the cool green evening

head cocked and shiny,

feet wired to strawed earth.

He sips flat brown beer

from a muddy slug trap,

fishes out with scissor-sharp beak

the slugs that slid in last night.

A fine fellow always full of fancy,

he throws his dark head back,

letting the slugs slime down

his throat like raw oysters.

Raven tells me how tasty they are,

slowly marinated like this,

in barley malt

and warm sunshine,

and laughs how they are,

in fact, fat, juicy reincarnated

bar flies that couldn’t

resist “just one more.”

Crop-full, he dances boisterously,

a flickering shadow on golden straw,

cackling and crackling,

spitting out grim haiku,

cawing each one twice, each one twice:

My obsidian

eyes splash rivulets of black,

dim the fragile dusk.

red-spotted admiral

its wings two different colors of blue blended together

dark blue circling the outskirts of its wing

pitch black curving toward red spots

which were placed at the bottom of its wing

which this butterfly

is named after

blue silvery butterfly

her beautiful soft wings

shimmering arctic in the low light

she flits and floats

softly

smoothly

gently

as if whisked up

by a breezy cloud

she flies so high

into the

evening sky

Tlaltecuhtli

De cabello escarlata ensortijado,

fragmentada y vigilante eres testigo.

Tlaltecuhtli, diosa de la tierra.

Puerta al mundo de los muertos, y dadora de vida.

Moras en el Templo Mayor Mexica

Con ofertorios y monolitos.

Diosa telúrica y noctura,

En rojo oscuro reclamas tu sitio.

¡Oh! dadora de vida, deidad del inframundo.

Guerrera, mujer intrépida y mártir.

Madre prolífica. Personificación de lo divino.

De falda esquelética, entretejida con huesos y cráneos

Tú que formas parte de los seres de oscuridad que poblaron el universo al principio de los

tiempos.

Vestimenta estrellada, citlalicue, que con tus garras nos amenazas.

Dualidad de vida y muerte.

Diosa madre, enigmática, misteriosa, pocos tenían permitido conocer tu existencia.

Deidad temida, devoradora de cadáveres, que descansas con tu rostro mirando la tierra.

La dualidad. Lo masculino y lo femenino,

Moradora del cielo y del inframundo.

Sobreviviente del cuarto diluvio. Tlaltecuhtli Cipatli.

Diosa madre, que formaste con tu cuerpo el cielo y la tierra.

Que de tu senos emanan los frutos que alimentan a la humanidad.

y de tus cabellos se forman los árboles y las flores.

Son tus grandes ojos las pozas de agua en el mundo.

Y las voluptuosidades de tu rostro crea valles y montañas.

Tlaltecuhtli, diosa de la tierra, que devoras los cadáveres para parir sus almas liberadas en su

viaje al Mictlan.

Señora del Tlalocan.

Diosa poderosa, de vida y muerte.

Dadora de alimento y consuelo para los muertos que a ti regresan.

La primera veintena lleva tu nombre en la piedra del sol.

En los nacimientos del sol y la tierra se te implora.

Y los cordones umbilicales te alimentan.

Tlaltecuhtli, que tu nombre ya ha sido olvidado por el dominio patriarcal que violento te despoja.

No permitamos silenciar tu fuerza. ¡Oh gran señora! Madre Tierra. Deidad.

--------------------------

Tlaltecuhtli

With curly scarlet hair,

fragmented and vigilant you are a witness.

Tlaltecuhtli, goddess of the earth.

Door to the realm of death, and giver of life.

Abode at the Mexica Templo Mayor

With offertories and monoliths.

Telluric and nocturnal goddess,

From the dark red you claim your site.

Oh! giver of life, deity of the underworld.

Warrior, intrepid woman and martyr.

Prolific mother. Personification of the divine.

With your skeletal skirt, interwoven with bones and skulls

You who are part of the beings of darkness that inhabit the universe at the beginning of time.

Starry attire, Citlalicue, that with your claws threaten us.

Duality of life and death.

Mother Goddess, enigmatic, mysterious, few were allowed to know of your existence.

Feared deity, devourer of corpses, you rest with your face looking at the earth.

Duality. The masculine and the feminine,

Dweller of heaven and the underworld.

Survivor of the fourth flood. Tlaltecuhtli Cipatli.

Mother Goddess, who formed heaven and earth with your body.

That from your breasts emanates the fruits that feed humanity.

And from your hair trees and flowers are formed.

Your great eyes are the ponds of water in the world.

And the voluptuousness of your face creates valleys and mountains.

Tlaltecuhtli, goddess of the earth, who devours corpses to give birth to their liberated souls on

their journey to Mictlan.

Lady of Tlalocan.

Powerful goddess of life and death.

Giver of food and comfort to the dead who return to you.

The first twenty accounts bear your name on the stone of the Sun.

In the births of the sun and the earth you are implored.

And the umbilical cords feed you.

Tlaltecuhtli, your name has already been forgotten by the patriarchal domain that violently strips

you.

Let us not allow your strength to be silenced. Oh great lady! Mother Earth. Deity.

white admiral

spots of blue outskirting its wing

this butterfly a couple different shades of black

orange spots painting the bottoms of its wings

a fluorescent shade of white

making a half-circle around this butterfly’s wings