branches up, roots down

I sometimes really do feel like I am living in dreamtime. Yesterday was one of those days. I had an appointment at city hall at 12 to get a marriage license. That in itself feels dreamlike….especially since that civil right may be voted away on the 5 th of November. As I slid into the parking spot that miraculously opened up right in front, a commercial against Proposition 8 was playing on the radio. The words were ringing in my head as I entered the hall full of gay and lesbian couples, looking for my partner. Here we all were, in this strange place between the worlds, going through motions that in a few weeks time may be denied other couples. Or not. We found each other and took our place in a long line of stories. Everyone had one, and most were telling them. The man next to me told me about his cancer, and how he thought he’d never live to marry his partner. The cancer is in remission, and the wedding will take place in the Victory Garden in front of city hall. We tol...

Poetry has been the backbeat of the last few days, and I am still following strands to new poems on this mighty web of poetry that has been spun. That, along with the hints of spring that I see in the emerging buds on the fruit trees, has uplifted spirit and soul. And, there’s that other thing. The election is today. Many of my friends are for Obama. Macha is wearing a giant button for him wherever she goes. Others are for Hillary, excited that a woman is finally being taken seriously as a candidate, or impressed simply with her experience. The last couple of days I’ve felt the excitement growing, and I’ve told friends from both camps how I envy them. Because I do. I wish I could feel solidly behind someone. I know whoever wins the Democratic nomination I will vote for, and maybe even campaign for. I’ll put my shoulder to the task of putting Hillary or Obama in the White House. But I still envy my friends who are ardent in the support of one or another. I can’t get there, an...