admiring the gold
emerging in the field—
missing the green it was
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.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged aging, autumn, poem, poetry | 1 Comment »
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.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged 81435 gallery, Jill Sabella, poem, poetry, Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer | Leave a Comment »
going straight
in the turn only lane—
time to invent wings
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged improvisation, poem, poetry | Leave a Comment »
Saying yes to too many things at once
is like eating dark chocolate truffles one
after another after another. The first
is infused with wild raspberry, which leads
to a caramel truffle with fleur de sel, which leads
to two smooth champagne truffles, which leads
to a tummy ache, bittersweet. My calendar
has a tummy ache. Its numbered squares
are filled in with rows of rich invitations…
a book club infused with Louise Erdrich
and Sauvignon Blanc, a meditation retreat
handcrafted with extra silence, a trail run
through aspen groves filled with silky light.
How could I pass on any of these delights?
Saying yes to too many things at once
is like crossing a remote border at midnight,
and though your pulse races with the thrill,
you have no idea if you will ever know
what home means again. Saying yes
to too many things at once is in fact
a disguise for saying no. No to openness,
no to spontaneity, no to whatever surprise
might have found its way into the vacant
possibility of that deliciously empty square.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged calendar, no, poem, poetry, scheduling, yes | 4 Comments »
thick with rain
this afternoon and still
the thirstiest parts of me
shriveled
longing to be drenched
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged poem, poetry, rain | Leave a Comment »
Mi casa es su casa.
My arms are your arms.
My lips are your lips.
My ripeness, yours. My triceps,
yours. My hunger, my nipples,
my skin, my swollen pinks
are yours, yours. And why stop there?
My dry elbows, your elbows.
My bunions, your bunions.
My cyst, your cyst. What part
of me would you rather not love?
Could you miss it? Tell me you will also take
my thinning skin, my widening hips,
my wrinkled cheek, my cracked heel.
If my fear is your fear; my ugly,
your ugly; my broken, your broken;
my shame, your shame, then kiss me
there. Again. Please? Kiss me there.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged acceptance, body, poem, poetry | 1 Comment »
