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  November 2004
volume 2 number 4
-table of contents-
  home   (archived)
  contributing poets
  Matthew A. Barraza
  Tom Berman
  Jack G. Bowman
  Quiana Briggs
  Tony Bush
  Joseph Camhi
  Velene Campbell
  Michael Ceraolo
  Rosemarie Crisafi
  Dan Danila
  Francisco Dominguez
  John Feins
  Daniel Garcia-Black
  Ursula T. Gibson
  Larry Jaffe
  Donna Kuhn
  Marie Lecrivain
  Sharmagne Leland-St. John
  Laura A. Lionello
  Harold Lorin
  Rick Lupert
  Stosh Machek
  Kelly Ann Malone
  Terry McCarty
  Tim Peeler
  James Pinkerton
  Beverly J. Raffaele
  E.W. Richardson
  Ken Scott
  Wanda Vanhoy Smith
  Rev. Dave Wheeler
  Robert D. Wilson
  mailing list
James Pinkerton
November 2004



Theo Diamantis

    James Pinkerton has a BA in English from California State University, Northridge. He has worked as a AmeriCorps volunteer coordinator for Habitat for Humanity, college math tutor, substitute elementary school teacher, and pizza delivery man. James lives in Sunland.



Sestina for Grandma

I can still smell the pine of Grandma’s house

The mantle clock still ticks the time

A white comforter invites me into its warmth

On her dresser more white…her face powder

The floors are wood, as I step they creak

It is Christmas, the tree twinkles, on top a star.

I sleep snug in my father’s bed. I can see the North Star

The small black dog, Daisy is curled in her house

Shadows flit and dance regardless of the time

Snow falls making drifts. I laugh….I am warm

In the morning I will dance in the fresh powder

A wind begins to blow. I listen as the trees creak

I sit on a swing with Grandma, her weight makes it creak

And I am safe…Grandma’s Shining Star

The swing set groans and topples onto the house

We giggle. A moment fixed in time

Hot coco steams its warmth

Later we feed sugar to horses

They grind it into fine powder.

I blow on a dandelion, spreading its powder

Grandma watches little frogs swim in the creek

It is dusk when we walk back, we wish on a shooting star

Gently Grandma stops me before we reach the house,

Looks into my eyes, and speaks of another time

She is little on her father’s shoulders safe, and warm.

Halley’s Comet blazed as she ate fresh cookies, sweet and warm

I eat cookies spilling the sugar’s powder

Halley’s will comes again and Grandma won’t be there. Her bones creak

She gives me a typewriter for college and hugs me one last time…her Rising Star

As we walk, hand-in-hand, to the house I cry wanting more time.

Morning brings a massive stroke. It is almost her time

She is in a wheelchair and I pile on blankets trying to keep her warm

I take honey and mix it with her medicine ground into powder

Singing in whispers as her rocker creaks

I wait for the comet and wish upon the North Star

It changes nothing… at dusk an Angel calls her to His house.

I remember the love in Grandma’s house.

I sit by the creek and feel her breath so warm.

I sneeze at dandelion’s powder and watch for falling stars.

copyright 2004 James Pinkerton