scavenger hunt—
inside every clue
love refuses to hide
sitting in darkness—
how easily I forget
we are separate
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged communion, darkness, poem, poetry | Leave a Comment »
What wants to happen?
—Joi Sharp
Today it is the tow truck
that leads me back to myself.
For though I call the driver
and though I receive
a text that says he is coming
and though I have paid
my AAA bill on time, the tow
truck does not arrive.
Though I did everything right.
Though the same actions have worked before.
Still the world has not turned out
the way I expected, the way
I want it to. The car
is still stranded. The tow truck
is still not here. Oh failure,
how clearly it shows my attachment
to outcome. How clearly it
shows me the world is in charge.
I look for more doors to knock on,
try to plan more ways to control.
Meanwhile, I am the door.
Meanwhile, this chance
to let go.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged car, failure, invitation, Joi Sharp, letting go, poem, poetry, teacher | 1 Comment »
Pulling the long red radish bulbs
from the garden, I marvel
at their pinkness, rub off the dirt,
bite into the crisp white flesh.
There are few tastes that bite
just right this way—make the mouth
happy to be a mouth and it teaches me,
without trying, that sometimes
when we wait too long,
a thing turns bitter. But oh, get
the timing right, my god, it’s sweet.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged garden, poem, poetry, radish, time, waiting | Leave a Comment »
braiding white daisies
to make a misshapen crown—
living blossom to blossom
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged daisies, poem, poetry, time | Leave a Comment »
stumbling through
the Moonlight Sonata
while outside the window
a twilight birdsong—
not one note out of place
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged bird, perfectionism, piano, poem, poetry | Leave a Comment »
It was this day, eight-nine years ago,
that Otto Frederick Rohwedder,
a jeweler from Davenport, Iowa,
got to see his invention in action—
yes, in Chillicothe, Missouri, a baker
used the bread slicer. Everyone said
it wouldn’t sell. Everyone said
the bread would go stale. Everyone
said the idea would fail. It’s compelling,
sometimes, what everyone says.
But sometimes, perhaps like Otto,
I hear the voice beneath the others.
It tells me to believe in improbable things.
Like poems changing the world.
Like Keatsian love. Like the immeasurable
pleasure that comes when the lever
goes down and all through the kitchen
floats the warm and earthy scent of toast,
the morning improving two slices at a time.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged bread, invention, poem, poetry, voice | 2 Comments »
even as my eyes close
some voice in me insisting
I’m awake, I’m awake
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged poem, poetry, sleep | 2 Comments »
From eggs
the size
of small
jelly beans
come these
two beaks
that peak
beyond the
edge—today
they save
me, these
two tiny
wingless things.
Even this
bruised heart
remembers how
to marvel.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged bird, hope, hummingbird, nature, nest, poem, poetry | Leave a Comment »
What a great gift this morning to hear my good friend and sister poet Erika Gordon reading two of my recent poems–one about mothering and another about coming to terms with my body–in this heart-opening interview in “Lyric Essentials.” She also writes about my daily practice and how it’s influenced her own writing. It feels so darn good to feel so seen, so heard. Wow. You can read and listen to Erika here
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged Erika Gordon, interview, Lyric Essentials, Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer | 6 Comments »
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