I like my body when I’m in the woods
and I forget my body. I forget that arms,
that legs, that nose. I forget that waist,
that nerve, that skin. And I aspen. I mountain.
I river. I stone. I leaf. I path. I flower.
I like when I evergreen, current and berry.
I like when I mushroom, avalanche, cliff.
And everything is yes then, and everything
new: wild iris, duff, waterfall, dew.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged body, body image, nature, poem, poetry, walking | Leave a Comment »
Because I can’t make things better,
I offer you tea. I am grateful when you accept.
The night holds us both
as we sit in the kitchen,
your voice a small boat
in an ocean of ache.
Because I can’t fix the problems,
I cover you with a blanket
when I see you are shivering,
though I know your shudders
have little to do with cold.
Still, it feels good when you pull
the white throw around you,
as if for the moment you’re protected.
I think of the Queen of Sheba,
how she learned to be grateful
for falling. How, in the dark,
she found her own light within,
then rose up and shared
this pearl with the world.
Because you are hurting,
I listen to you, would listen
all night, would listen all week.
I offer my whole attention.
And as you find in yourself
the light that is there,
I marvel as you marvel
at your own wisdom, your
own strength.
I listen. I nod.
I pour you tea.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged help, helplessness, love, mother, poem, poetry, step mother, tea | 1 Comment »
Darling, they’ve redefined the kilogram.
Once it was a thing. A real thing:
a platinum-iridium cylinder
weighing 2.2 pounds. A thing they kept
in France in a high-security vault. A thing
they could compare to other such weights
kept in vaults all around the world.
As if to lock a thing up is to keep it
from changing. Forever.
Now we know better.
Every thing changes. It’s the nature
of things. Even prototypes lose atoms,
no matter how sterile the room
in which they’re kept.
The loss may be only the weight
of a single eyelash that no longer
bats itself at time.
Over time, it matters.
Now, understanding the volatile nature of things,
they’ve made the kilogram an idea—
a simple truth—by tying its definition
to Planck’s constant. How the world loves
a constant.
Darling, know that I am a thing.
I have wanted to be constant,
unwavering, true, but I lose things.
I gain things. I change innumerable
times a day. I am never the same woman
as I was yesterday. Each time we speak,
I swell, I leak. I will always love you
not the same. There is more at work than gravity.
It’s the way the heart is made.
I want to make you promises.
Like constancy. Like forever.
I promise that I’ll change.
Like the old kilogram. Like weather.
https://www.cnn.com/2018/11/13/world/kilo-measurement-scli-intl/index.html
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged change, kilogram, love, poem, poetry, science | Leave a Comment »
Once I would say “table,” and mean
“table.” Once, I would say
“broccoli” and mean “broccoli.”
I would say “stone” and mean
“stone.” I really did believe
that things were separate.
And nameable. Now,
every word that comes
out of my mouth, no matter
how many syllables, no matter
the tone of voice, no matter
my intention, I’ve come to understand
that every word
is really just a translation
for thank you,
thank you for this moment.
And every silence between the words,
regardless how brief,
is really just the sound
of one hand in gratitude clapping.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged communication, communion, gratitude, poem, poetry, translation | 2 Comments »
finding in me
the place where honey
is stored
almost empty
still offering it to you
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged love, poem, poetry, sharing | 1 Comment »
Again the rain,
and I wander
the tender green grass
of the field.
The hands pull weeds
because the hands
want something to do.
And the mind looks
for morels, because the mind
wants something to do.
And the feet wander,
because they are born
nomads. And the heart
opens. Not because
it wants to, but
because there is something
in the scent of rain
that suggests
so much is possible,
even, against all odds,
beauty. Even, though
it seems impossible,
another day.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged faith, heart, opening, poem, poetry, rain | Leave a Comment »
What do a poet and a science writer have in common? A podcast on creative process! And in this episode of Emerging Form, Christie Aschwanden and I discuss collaborations–what makes them work, how they go sour, and what to do then! We also discuss whether collaborations need leaders, w
hy listening is an essential skill for working with other creatives, Chinese food, the Jabberwocky, and how spontaneity can enhance a creative collaboration. And then we’ll wrap up our conversation by talking with musician/songwriter/video producer Christine Laskowski who will play our game of two questions. We’ll ask her 1) What makes a good collaboration? And 2) How do you deal with conflicts when they arise in a collaboration? You can weigh in on these questions yourself, either on our website or on our Facebook page. You can find Emerging Form wherever you find podcasts, or on our webpage here.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged Christie Aschwanden, collaboration, Emerging Form, Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer | Leave a Comment »
weeping beside
the pussy willows—
all those tears
over saying goodbye,
I wouldn’t uncry
a single one
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged beginnings, breaking open, endings, poem, poetry | Leave a Comment »
goldfinch stealing
into the thorn bush—
oh heart, bless you
for being willing, please
don’t follow him in
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged compassion, goldfinch, heart, heartache, poem, poetry, thorns | Leave a Comment »
