New Poetry Blog

I've published a book of the poems inspired by my Mamma's art, and now I've moved on to writing poetry about everything and anything that inspires me, still taking from the visual... photographs or art.

Go to the new poetry blog:
http://web.me.com/betinahershey/Betina/Poetry/Poetry.html

(Photograph of my Mother sitting at her kitchen table eating alone before my visit.)

Loose Ends: Face Photo by Betina Hershey Russo

Cut off the loose ends.
Freedom.
It might be choppy,
It might be rough,
But it's new
And lighter.

Let me fly away
Towards the icy lavender sky
Until the darkness breaks the ice
Like a heavy hammer,
Strong, certain, and
Deadly.

Flower Airplane: Original_20X22_Acrylic by Carol Hershey

1/5/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Pick a flower, cut an orange,
Fold the world into a perfect
Plane and fly it
Towards the horizon.
I am glad to have found
Your pencils and the spider
That tickles me
In between bating flies.
Look how the sun gleams
Through the glass
And creates such lines of light
Upon the lavender curtains.
I'm soaring in my flower plane,
Sorry to be leaving you behind.

Shattered

1/4/08_Poem by Betina Hershey

SHATTERED

Gripping glass in hand
I struggle for composure
In front of our potted plants.
You click, click, click away, brow furrowed, engrossed
By Craig's List again.
I imagine glass shattering, splattering, dancing in broken bits
While you are trying to make a dream come true,
Trying not to let me down in the some near distant future.
Right now, as I ask you again, yes again, to look at me, I remember
To be thankful the vines and African Violets are still somewhat alive
And that you love me enough to dream.

Sundays: 1982_ColorPencil_Drawing2 by Carol Hershey

1/4/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Sundays

The thing about Sundays:
Tomorrow I'll get up early
And I'm looking forward to the fray
Of seeing people all day
But right now I'm regretting
All the things I've been getting
Myself into
When there's such a lovely sun
Shining throug the window onto my
Newly acquired old flower couch
And the hammock is hanging,
Ever ready for a swing or two,
And the library books have begged
Again and again, "Read me! Read me!"
So getting up too early and leaping up
To go sing in the choir of God's glory
Keeps getting shunted to next Sunday.
Yes, next Sunday I'll finally take those
Two hours to be a part of something
Upliftingly social and maybe even
Get out the yoga mat after, or better -
Invite everyone over for a yoga party.

But my favorite of all
Is to sit here in the sun
With my papers and projects and quiet,
Knowing I've somehow managed
To be here, alone
This Sunday, at least,
Worshiping my own way.

2 Vases: 1979_Ink_Drawing_1 by Carol Hershey

1/3/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

I have two names
Like I'm a vase sitting next to myself, saying
"Hey, Russo, how goes it?"
"Why fine, thanks, Hershey. And you?"
We're two vases chatting, snuggled close,
Overlapping and sometimes confused.
"I wish I had flowers in me today."
"Oh, no, think of the decay."
What will happen when one of us finally falls
And shatters on the floor?
Will I say to myself, "Well, it's for the best.
There really wasn't room up here for two,"
And then sigh?
Perhaps I'll roll down to the pieces
And delicately put them inside my cavernous insides
And enjoy the weight hidden,
The two MEs finally one.

Moon Sliver: 1980_Ink_Drawing4 by Carol Hershey

1/2/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

I never meant to
leave you
Alone on the edge
of a planet,
Rolling, rolling,
rolling.
I see you found three
friends
Who have pointed out
that glorious
Sliver of moon, and
the stars
Freckling the sky.
I may return.
If I do, will you allow
me to land?

Shawn: 1984_PencilDrawing_Shawn by Carol Hershey

1/2/08_Poem by Betina Hershey

A good book
in a quiet
nook
with the smell
of jelly
being smeared
on crackers
for a snack,
ah the rain
can pour
down,
the snow may
pile and drift
but no one
will tear him
away
from his hero
slashing dragons
and the imminent
disaster
of aliens.
Except when the doorbell rings
and it's Joey from the next block
ready with his Star Wars figurines.

Crying T: 1984_ColorPencil_Drawing6 by Carol Hershey

1/2/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

I though we were past the longest night.
Why do I still see shining tears
Flying down from our chimney
Like Christmas lights lighting up the void?
At least the tornado didn't lift our home away
And leave us staring up
At Nothing.

Or would that be better?
Two lost souls in the wilderness
Clinging to each other out of fear...
Rather than two angry citizens
Cutting their meat rather hard
And jabbing at the garbage
Collecting by their slippered feet.

Lamp watching Eggs: 2003_Ink_Drawing29 by Carol Hershey

1/2/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

I keep on
watching
these three
dreams,
these delicate orbs
spinning on
my knee.
Will they survive?
The frost is coming
and last night's volcano
splattered lava
on their cool cases,
though I bent to cover
them with my shade.
My neck grows weary
but I will never stop
watching.
The one time I left
and returned on tiptoe
they looked so pitiful.
All the others
had broken
out of neglect and
fright.
Only these three
still spin here.
I won't turn away
for any sound
until they've hatched.

Onward and Upward: 2007_Ink&ColorPencil_Drawing1 by Carol Hershey

1/1/08_Poem by Betina Hershey

Onward,
red
warrior
flower,
into the dew frost,
the winter fray.
Shine upward
with certain petal
and calm quill!
Two thousand and nine
little lambs bleat and dribble
all over the moss.
We will all
see twilight's
purple,
luscious
new
year
so onward
and upward.

Pencil Blend: 2006_ColorPencil_Drawing1 by Carol Hershey

12/31/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

This year
Passed like a stone:
Big and bland,
Painful to push through.

When I examine
The excrement
I am astonished
To find such a dainty oval
With dusk in its colors.

I expected a dull sheen,
A rough, well angled, ravish-less
Rock
But now I see
So many shades
Of forgiveness.
Your eyes are in the polish
Somewhat withered, but cat-joyous
In the new-found sun.

Blue Angel: 1990+_ColorPencil_Drawing4 by Carol Hershey

12/30/08_Poem2 by Betina Hershey Russo

My angel is watching
Sadly
As I crash
Against the charcoal ember.
My angel thought perhaps
I was finally lifting towards air,
Purifying towards child,
Green again, kind again,
Open.
I want to be open,
But all I see
Is the door slamming
And your shabby coat
Thrown over our delicate flowers.
What I should see:
The twinkle in your eyes,
Your calloused hands
Pointing out Jupiter.

Red Harrd Snob: 1988_ColorPencil_Drawing2 by Carol Hershey

12/30/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

With eyes shut, nose lifted
And long mouth under-frowned,
She harrumphs and harrangs
And sniffs harr-de-harr.
No use tr'n tuh fix me,
Or cheer me or jeer me
Cuz I've done it all and it's nothing much. Nagh.
She's so sure that the world is curdled
And the milk is shattered
And the mice are barking
That she becomes the red wolf
Instead of the lime green frog fairy.
Oh, she's old beyond years
And mean, oh so mean.
She's built walls up and down
All around her art
And there she marches back and forth
With a million ideas to execute
One by one.

Two Vases 1st Version by Carol Hershey

12/28/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

up in the big blue
two best buds
vases forever
one a perfect white
and one smeared with earthy mud

will you be there next to me
forever floating
with your pure white smile
next to my feet covered with mud?

i hope so

On Man Band: wacky5b&wdrawing 7-05 by Carol Hershey

12/22/08 Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

One Man Band

Clink, clank, booga booga boo!

I'm a one man band, but who are you?

I've a cymbal and a shaker and a xylophone

And I'm singing through an aria with perfect tone.

Don'cha wanna dance,

Fancy dancy purple pants?

Take your money out and put it here...

Pick it up, plink it down, in my cup, in my crown,

In my super dapper tipsy topsy pick-the-tips-up hat.

And that's that!

Final Moment: 2003_Pastel2 by Carol Hershey

12/21/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

We are alone
Together
In a beautiful wash of
Terror
The terror of loving others
Even though we know
We will face that final moment
With only our conscience
Able to tell us
"That was a life well lived."
We become god-linked
And leave this world
To the others
While we wade through the pain
Of tearing flesh, or rotting muscle,
The pain of leaving
And finally reach that white light,
Or that black circle, glowing orange, pink, and gold.

Recharge Station: 1980+_Pencil_Drawing by Carol Hershey

12/13/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Up there, in that circle after life,
May you be completely tucked
Under the fluffy red covers
Of your recharge station
With your favorite books,
A glass of soul water,
And big fuzzy slippers waiting.

And may you stay there
Until I am plugged in
To the recharge station on your left,
The one just recently emptied
By the latest birth,
The one that will let me tap
On the walls between us
And send you messages
About the marriages and kids
You missed.

Soft Edges: 1977_Pencil_Drawing2 by Carol Hershey

12/12/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

in memory of Steve

May you become the softest
Circle,
Complete at last,
As we sweep up the edges
You left behind.

Egyptian Woman: 1987_colorpencil_Egypt_1 by Carol Hershey

12/11/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Lost in thought,
She gazes through her green lashes
At the blue and purple skies.
The flower is from the fields
Where she always stops
On her way back from the watering hole.
You can see the calm power of her thoughts
Linked so perfectly from brain to mouth
And how they will radiate outwards
With pure wisdom.
She will be obeyed,
She with her blue lips
And her straight.
They will listen
When she says they must build her
A pyramid so glorious
That she will not be forgotten.
She doesn't know it yet.
Today she is a young maiden
With no known prospects
Gazing out at the blue sky,
Dreaming.

Reeds: 1985_WaterColor1 by Carol Hershey

12/10/08_Make-up_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Here, amongst the reeds
And the pure blue watering hole
I've lain down my ring of darkness
And my flower of light.
This is where I come;
Here, as the breezes ruffle my reflection
Into brittle shards,
I become a willow tree,
Bending so spryly down
To kiss the blue glass -
That broken and flowing face,
Truth.

Vibrant Town: 1985 Watercolor1Back by Carol Hershey

12/10/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

You've been busy again
Planting rose bushes,
Painting tv boxes green,
Hanging lights,
And stacking crates and shoots
Of all colors and sizes
To make one vibrant town
With blue leaf foot prints,
Yellow rivers, and a real smoke stack.
I always follow you
With my wisps of black and gray
Shadows that catch on fire
And turn into brilliant orange and blue
Cacophony,
Leaping up towards the blue fox
And the strong lady lifting dumbbells.

Space Station: 1986&91_ColorPencil_Drawing1 by Carol Hershey

12/9/08_Make-up_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

A hazy warmth
Always hangs round
This part of the station.
Ramrod straight plants
Grow in neat little rows
And pods filled with sausage and rice
Are shuttled through the skies
To the next departing flight.
The aura-replacers are open and active,
Glowing purple and pink,
Sending out the sweetest feeling
Of mmmmm
While 100-year-old children
Rest in hammocks
Before the second millenium of their voyage
Towards a greener planet.

Bullseye: 2003_Pastel4 by Carol Hershey

12/9/08_Make-up_Poem2 by Betina Hershey Russo

Is it a tear falling
From an over-exhausted eye?
Or a sliver of glass
Sailing up from a broken mirror
To puncture a tattoo?
Or, perhaps it is hanging there
Like a gong, or a heavy-handed clock.

I think it's a pinwheel
Spinning atop a blue stick
While the wind whirs it
Dizzily about.

Dancing Graves: 2002_Ink_Drawing4 by Carol Hershey

12/9/08_Make-up_Poem1 by Betina Hershey Russo

"Today is a day for
Dancing in front of the graves
Of those we miss,"
Sang the swaying women.
They moved with the fervor
Of joy-bound mourning.
They hung tinsel and flower petals
Over the tall, metal crosses,
Those cold grave markers
Stabbing the earth
Where rotting bodies lay,
Abandoned by souls
With the journey of life
Once again ahead.

Christmas Tree: 2002_Ink_Drawing3 by Carol Hershey

12/9/08_Christmas_Tree_Poem by Betina Hershey

It's time to get out
The pretty little tree
And arrange the plastic quills
In delicate arches.
Then hang the noodle-glued angel,
The blue, red and green ornaments,
And that funny, tiny piano.
String the lights,
Those warm glowing blues.
The tinsel goes on last,
Dripping down like icy, shiny
Decadence. Oh, be careful.
Keep it hanging straight.
We don't want a mangled mess.
Plug in the tree
And sit in the dark, gazing.

This, My Home: 1981_Ink&ColorPencil_Drawing2 by Carol Hershey

12/1/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

This, my home,
Place for dancing and dirty dishes,
I don't want to share it
With strangers, no,
I long for a kindred spirit
Emerging from the mist
Of this renovation
To hand me one beautifully pressed
Fig leaf and the photo of a feather
Swirling in a bath.
These hours rush by
As I work for home.
Thank you, universal forces,
For the gifts of solitude, silence,
One radio station that rings clear,
And deeply rooted family.

Her Textile: 1987_ColorPencil_Drawing2 by Carol Hershey

11/30/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

"It is long, tedious work,"
She says, staring at the textile,
Searching for a flaw in the fabric.
Each dot fills her with awe
And she longs to share the whole thing
With the shivering world NOW!
"They need this autumnal weave
To lose the chill and cozy up a bit."
She hums to herself
And gnashes her teeth in concentration.
She won't sleep
Until her eyes start swimming
With dots and threads
And she knows she has done
All she can.

Chorus: 1990_Ink_Drawing7 by Carol Hershey

11/29/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

We twenty one heads
Bend in the wind and
Give thanks for this day.
Thanks! Thanks! Thank you!
The sky is blue with wispy clouds
And the corn thrasher's paused
Giving us time here
Before its cold metal claws
Tear us up and send us off
Into the jaws of our working day.
We have eaten well,
The rain water was fresh
And it's nice to be surrounded
By family. So we give thanks! Oh, yes!

Headdress: 2003_Pastel3 by Carol Hershey

11/29/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Thanks were given
And thanks received.
The headdress was passed
Down the rows of sober recipients
And placed on each head
As glasses were raised and toasts toasted.
The colors on cheeks flushed
And eyes shone with such sweet corn,
Such creamy pumpkin soup,
And the prospects of new worlds of friends.
I remember it well, the hopes
For peace, for freedom, for cohabitation,
And also the more important desire
To survive the harsh new winter.
They did us right, and we, well,
We tried, but we lost the headdress
And ran out of wine
And after the winter we thought we knew it all.

FilmHead Woman: 1983_Ink_Drawing2 by Carol Hershey

11/18/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Her face contains
Multitudes of movies
Bent over the bones
Of her film holder face,
Hair spilling over
Like inky ideas gone haywire
And her skeleton
Stringy and open
To our view.
She walks
And walks
Through the hottest sun
And the rockiest peaks
With thin leather on her feet
And everything she owns
On her back.
Dream circles float
On her shoulders.
She is lucky to have Vision.
She is our Dream Vision Holder.
Her heart is beating
For all of our woes and hopes.
She walks on and on
For us,
Our female Christ,
Our Earth Mother,
Our own ideas of life.

Looking Down: 1978_Pencil_Drawing12 by Carol Hershey

11/17/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Looking down on her
We can see how close
She pulls someone
And how her shoulders slope,
Strong and wide.
Here head is bowed forward
To glance at the egg
Her child holds up.
She is worn out, but full,
Ready for another day.
And then finally the last day
Will creep up like a surprise party
She sensed was coming
And the dishes won't have been put away
But off she'll go.

Funny Moose: 1984_ColorPencil_Drawing4

11/16/08_Make-Up_Poem2 by Betina Hershey Russo

“I was just joking,”
Whined the bucktooth moose
As the rain-tears dripped down
Like two steady drums
Past his ears.
The Moose’s eyes crossed
And re-crossed themselves,
Superstitious by nature.
Something rumbled…
A belly laugh?
Was God weeping tears of mirth?
In those two rain-tear spots,
Up sprang two little moose rose plants.

Below The Surface: 1990_Ink_Drawing12 by Carol Hershey

11/16/08_Make-Up_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

I’m wondering what is growing
Below the surface;
Has the corn rooted?
Are the carrots healthy?
Has the soil been purified enough
To leave no trace of pesticide
Seeping through the potatoes?
I pat around the topsoil, curious,
Longing to shovel down
And discover their secrets.

Warm Place: 1992_ColorPencil_Drawing6 by Carol Hershey

11/16/08_Poem by B.H.Russo

I was looking
For the kind of place
Where people touch you
And smile with that non-sexual,
"You are beautiful" vibe.
Down by the river walk,
At the old Irish Inn,
I found an old man singing ditties
About how gay used to mean happy
And telling stories about Dolly Parton's lovely lumps.
But the people danced
And smiled, and alone at my table,
I ate boiled potatoes an shrimp
In this Irish pub in Savannah
I was almost at the Kerrville folk festival
Staying up all night long
With my guitar and my favorite songs
And soft arms to catch me.
Yes, here I was, just listening and merging
With those happy, sloppy Irish-wanna-be souls.

Two Roses: 1984_Ink&ColorPencil_Drawing1 by Carol Hershey

11/14/08_Make-Up-6 Poem by BHR

I don’t need much.

Land
Sun
Moon
The big dipper
Two roses
A handful of seeds
A cave full of eggs
And a bridge to the sky.

That’s all I have
And all I could ever need.

Except sometimes
I think I might need you.

Mr. Potato Moon: 1979_Pencil_Drawing12 by Carol Hershey

11/14/08_Make-Up-5 Poem by B.H.Russo

Mr. Potato-Moon,
Inconsolable grump
Has his nose in the air
And in his throat – well – a lump.
He’s holding a stop sign
And swatting at flies
While the mountains get chilly
And the North Star flies.
I thought he’d be nicer
While shining his light
But no, he needs something –
A nap or some food
Or maybe a someone
To pat his puffed cheeks
And make him feel better
Til his eyes shine like leeks.

Thoughtful Chicken: 1978_Ink_Drawing8 by Carol Hershey

11/14/08_Make-Up-4 Poem by B.H. Russo

This chicken just posed a question:
Do yesterday and tomorrow exist today?
She knows most roads of memory
Limp into the Ethernet of forgetting,
That corn husks are actually science books
Of instructions not meant to be rewritten,
She believes love is a selfish selflessness.
Yes, this chicken has even reminisced
On aboriginal art, the meaning of sex,
Mist falling upon Brigadoon,
And farmers’ vacant eyes
When they are about to prepare a chicken for market.
Her neck feels funny, but she says,
This is just one more experience
Before I die.

Vaginaharp: 2005_RedPencil_Drawing3 by Carol Hershey

11/14/08 Make-Up-3 Poem by B.H.Russo

“Alleluia,” sings the vaginaharp
With opened maw
Salivating and preparing
To sing the famous Mozart aria,
Ever so slightly out of her range.
Her glorious alto vibrations
Rumble through the cavernous room
And mess up the tuning
Of the ever-changing penisguitar.
“Oh let the bright seraph in,”
Counters the ever hopeful
Duet-seeking penisguitar.
“Can’t we make music together,
Though two stringed instruments we be?”
In the end, the strings get tangled
And the tune changes to “My Mamma Done Tole Me,”
But both are happy with the outcome
And decide to pursue slide guitar techniques
And gutteral street cries.

Floating Bottle: 1984_ColorPencil_Drawing3 by Carol Hershey

11/14/08 Make-Up-2 Poem by B.H.Russo

The bottle drifts
Over yellow seas
With its rabbit head lifted
Testing the wind
And its branch arms reaching
For the unreachable shore.
There’s a secret inside
Calling you
To shake off your passivity
And dive in! Dive in!

Umbrella: 2004_Pencil_Drawing1 by Carol Hershey

11/14/05 Make-Up-1 Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

They are both decked out
In their green, yellow, blue
With fine crosses and circles
And a regal to-do.
They will walk through the weather
Of strong sun or rain
And never feel bothered
Enough to complain.
It’s a joyous occasion
Each time they processes
With cloaks and umbrella
No matter the mess.
You know, I’ve never seen
Them stop or delay
Or miss out on walking
For even one day
And I’m sure I’d feel troubled
If ever there came
A day those two vanished
And left no one to walk in the rain.

SunDesert: 1989&91_ColorPencil_Drawing1 by Carol Hershey

11/14/08 make-up poem by Betina Hershey Russo

I'll meet you
Where the arches pass
Through the orange moon
And the desert weeds
Grow tall and proud,
Where the magic sled
Waits for us
To wake up
And crawl out of bed.
I'll meet you there
At 4am when the fairies whisper
Good night and good morning
To all who linger.

Witch: 1989_ColorPencil_Drawing5 by Carol Hershey

11/14/08 but should have been 10/31/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

There she hangs, upside down
Like a dark kind of clown
With her long pointy nose
And her dark velvet clothes
But her eyes cross and strain
From the blank in her brain
Cuz she's almost forgotten
Which thing should be rotten
And she's tangled her lines
While her purplish vines -
They hold up her glass ball
Making sure it won't fall.
Still, she's dizzy and cross
And a bit at a loss
While she's stuck upside down
With no spell and no sound.

Chick: 1984&91_Odds&Ends1 by Carol Hershey

11/13/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

I feel like a little chick
Just discovering
The ground is rich
With things to pick at.
Oh, so many pieces
Of golden grain!
Oh, such a glorious discovery -
Each teeny crumb.

Radiator: 2000_Ink_on_ragpaper3SideB by Carol Hershey

11/12/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Radiators hissing
And the icy floors slowly spreading
With the warmth of a day beginning
Covers strewn about
Pajamaed buttocks pressed to the sizzling
Hot radiator in the dining room,
Gazing out the window at the fallen leaves,
Waiting for breakfast.
This is what I remember
Fondly about the chill of fall and winter
In our parents' house.
Now my radiators are no longer metal coils
But vents in the wall.
Still, they do the same job
And I hover in front of them
Like a child eagerly warming up
To the day.

Comet: 1990_Ink_Drawing5 by Carol Hershey

11/11/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

This is big!
Dazzling-lights big! Glowing-ferris-wheel-in-the-dark big!
Giant-meteor-burning-through-the-earth's-atmosphere big!
This is so big
That I hardly noticed it.
It's the-entire-galaxy-is-invisible-to-my-tiny-eye-but-I-know-it's-there big!
It's dream-come-true-when-you-didn't-even-realize-you-had-a-dream big!
Besides loving you
And loving my family
And loving your family
And loving the universe even when it gave me a bum leg,
I have a house!
Which means leaves to rake
Doors to stain
And walls that will contain
The next 30 years.
Or so my tiny brain believes.

Earthworm: 2002_B&W_Ink_Drawing by Carol Hershey

11/10/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

Earthworm with five faces
Grinning like a sweet-eyed granny
At the spotty, dirty, prettily packaged world,
I have my rake and my heap
Of damp leaves;
You keep tumbling, climbing, burrowing.
We are a perfect pair,
Me plunging into the earth
And you climbing up towards tales
Of butterflies.

Reclining Woman: 1984+_ColorPencil_Drawing2 by Carol Hershey

11/8/08_Poem by Betina Hershey

One day
I'll be a woman of leisure
Reclining on my fuzzy rug
Watching the tree leaves drift
Past the bushes and the porch
To land amongst the broken walnut shells.

One day
I'll have eliminated
The clicking of the clock
The ringing of the phone
The alarm buzzing
And there will be the sweetest silence
Of neighbors' dogs, the passing bus,
And your soft snore.

One day
I'll have all these boxes unpacked
And you'll find me with Ray Charles
And War and Peace
And on the stove will be the biggest pot
Of rice and beans, sausage and red chard.
I'll even have a free range chicken
In the fridge for tomorrow.

One day
Just like today.

Browns and Reds: 1983+_ColorPencil_Drawing3 by Carol Hershey

10/28/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

I am moving
My stacks of resolutions
All in crisp binders,
My old dreams wrapped in crinkly tissue-paper,
My tomorrow plans scrawled
Over tiny post-its and huge poster paper,
And you,
Wrapped in the weary glow
Of "this will be glorious."

Where we're going,
All of these boxed up items
Will become soft, round, amazingly balanced
In a haze of browns and reds
And teardrop shaped rooms.

Where we're going is more than just
A house. It's a new way
Of saying "future". It's
My own mailbox, a porch, two trees,
A back yard, crickets, a leak,
And your kisses in my kitchen in between gigs.

Crazed Clown: 1991_ColorPencil1 by Carol Hershey

10/27/09_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo

I feel like
a crazed clown:
bloodshot eyes,
brain waves screaming
AIIIIEEEEE!

I feel like
a ferris wheel
out of control
in a misty grey
sky while children
scream
MOOMMMYYYY!

I feel like
a red pen scraping
across a page
marking out a mouth
for such a frazzled
face. om.