they didn’t look

like a cage, those years,

until I was offered a key

and realized I knew not

how to use it


On the Edge of Cold



They will say it is impossible,

but I want to give you things

they say no one can keep—

the scent on the trail

this morning, a golden smell,

and the amber light inside it.

Or the pause before the dance

commences. Or the moment

when falling becomes flying.


I want to give you elusive things—

the moon in the river, the way

the sunset turns the whole world

to rose, the feeling that love

not only is possible, it’s as

inevitable as blinking, as

unavoidable as noon.


It is not too late. In fact,

already we are here.




There are still one or two spaces left for a retreat this weekend in La Sal, Utah

The Grand Embrace

The Grand Embrace: Writing and relaxing into not knowingness
sliding fee of $170 – $220 for room and board and a suggested teacher donation of $150 – $400 

La Sal, Utah

We live in a culture that wants to know—we chart and graph and test and outline. We codify and classify and name. But what do we really know? What is all this messiness and mystery that breeds underneath our longing for orderliness and certainty? What would happen if we could really rest in uncertainty? How deep might that relaxation go? How much more open might our lives be if we made friends with letting go?

Join retreat leaders Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer and dharma teacher Susie Harrington. We’ll read poems that don’t bring answers, poems that lead us deeper into paradox. We’ll sit in the midst of the not-knowing, sit with our joys, our challenges, the what is here of each moment.  We’ll write our own explorations of what if and what else and see what even a small bit of wonder might do … if you’re willing to risk a little, meditation and writing can open doors where before you didn’t even realize a door existed. Spiritual doors. Healing doors. Doors where there used to be walls.

No previous writing experience required. No previous meditation experience required. This poetry and meditation weekend is for anyone who is curious about weaving spiritual awakening and the creative poetic impulse.

Letting the Small Ache Sing




Not yet dirt,

the outline

of squirrel is still visible

on the hard earth

of the back road—

I step over what remains,


how many other lives

I’m walking on.

There are infinite ways

to praise,

among them

these words:

I am sorry.

One Simultaneous




admiring the gold

emerging in the field—

missing the green it was

In a Low-Angled Light




Already shriveled, these marigolds

that line the fence. Something soothing

about the way the flowers keep their color,

though the leaves are brown and dried.

From a distance, they are vibrant.

From a distance, you might forget

that the garden will soon be filled with snow.

So much is ignored in the name of beauty.

Here, here is the season with your name on it,

your name the scent of gold. You find yourself

longing to be more like a lily, dropping everything,

not even pretending to survive the cold.



Join me and Jill Sabella at our opening for In Three Lines, a two-year collaboration. We’ll have food and wine and live music by cellist Kyra Kopestonsky, and 5-minute readings on the 1/2 hour … plus we HOPE to have our new book, Even Now, by then. Join us at the 81435 Gallery.

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