Genie’s Pocket - by Jeanie Greensfelder

 

2009 Columns

 

 

December, 2009       Genie’s Pocket    

 

The Dark Sea

 

A brown, two-pound wet mop wiggles

on the sand, separated from its mother.

 

Atop a Harbor Patrol truck, a man

watches for a parent otter to appear,

to respond to the cry of its baby.

A woman from Marine Rescue

carries the pup into the icy surf.

Arms high, she waits to be seen.

Twice the mother comes close.

After an hour the team leaves.

 

November, 2009       Genie’s Pocket    

 

IMAGINATION

 

The whole of you is never visible,

half of you out of sight.

Presumably you’re all there,

but what haven’t I imagined?

 

October, 2009          Genie’s Pocket    

 

CALIFORNIA LIVING

(Three trips to Pismo Beach)

 

A blonde man, around thirty,

laid three oil barrels

a yard apart in the sand.

Barefoot, in shorts and sunglasses,

he stood, broad-jumped over each,

turned, did it again, and again:

his warm-up for beach volleyball.

 

September, 2009     Genie’s Pocket    

 

SAN SIMEON POINT

 

On a hot-fudge sundae day, cold air with hot sunshine,

I walked along the beach to a semi-secret trail,

climbed through barbed wire, headed to the cliffs.

 

Monarchs flitted among eucalyptus and two juncos

flew in mating flurry. At the point a panorama:

kelp balls dancing with waves, distant mountains,

and endless blue where sea and sky merged.

 

August, 2011          Genie’s Pocket    

 

WE ALL LIVE IN A...

 

yellow submarine. The sun rises

and the teapot fishes in the sky.

 

Art awakens my mind to play,

splash in the pond of dreams,

slip into black holes.

 

July, 2009    Genie’s Pocket    

 

TRANSFORMATIONS

 

Behind the wheel of a car

some people remain themselves,

but in my Prius phone booth

I forgo my Clark Kent persona.

 

From meek and mild to assertive and bold,

I become a Don’t mess with me driver.

 

 

 

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