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Archive for February, 2012

And Could It Be More

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , on February 11, 2012| 1 Comment »

In the other room I hear
my father snoring
and imagine how
he’s stood before
outside my door
and listened
to my tides of sleep
with, could it be,
as much love for me
as I have now for him—
his shore is my shore,
our heart sails
open.

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Blink

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on February 10, 2012| 3 Comments »

By accident she snipped
the amaryllis stalk

still crowned with buds
red and unopened—it happens,

it happens like this,
these moments in which

we do what we never
believe we would do—

what were we thinking?
scissors in one hand,

and all that is no more possible
in the other.

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Because Often We Forget

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on February 8, 2012| 6 Comments »


Being human. It’s not what we think it is.
—Jude Janett

Sometimes when we hug
I swear the strands
of our DNA come unspiraled
and wrap themselves
around each other
as if to embroider
into our memory
the truth of how I
am you and you
are me and this
perhaps explains
why long after
we untangle our arms
and scents from each other
I feel how
what’s deepest in you
unfurls in me.

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Taking off the Hood

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on February 7, 2012| 1 Comment »

It was no wolf
in grandma’s kerchief
that tricked me,
but I thought
it was I who opened
every door, thinking
I knew what was
behind it. Now
I watch as doors
I never knew were there
open themselves,
come unhinged,
fall off.

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three haiku: limitations

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , on February 7, 2012| 3 Comments »

no matter how open
the heart, the eyes can only
follow one snowflake

*

tonight a whole hat
is stitched out of the promise
just two more minutes

*

all these flowers
I’ve learned by proper name
let’s relearn by scent

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Beyond the Petrie Dish Tanka

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on February 5, 2012| 1 Comment »

Today I learned what
I knew: if a cell from my
heart met one from yours,
they would find a new rhythm
not yours, not mine, but ours.

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Five Unlearning Haiku

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 4, 2012| 1 Comment »

That wind always tries
to undress me … today
it took my name, too.

*

It’s hard to be
serious when you’re kissing
my elbows.

*

What’s that? It’s only
supposed to have seventeen
syllables? But the sky today deserves at least twenty-five.

*

Erase the word mine
from these lips. Replace it with
nothing.

*

Tonight the stars
are just stars, the lines that link
them all undrawn.

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Three Crazy Haiku

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , on February 3, 2012| 1 Comment »

Every part of me
burning and still, go figure,
I feel lucky.

Lost and scared, still
the only thing that makes sense:
fall deeper in love.

Light spills all over
the mountains—oh morning, please
kiss me like that.

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Haiku: Five Miracles

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , on February 2, 2012| 1 Comment »

It would take weeks
to walk to your house, still
our hearts so close.

*

This morning I ski
into the woods—forty years
later I ski out.

*

The snow did not stop
when I said stop, but it did
not fall forever.

*

Across the lake
invisible in the trees,
the crow in my ear.

*

That ripple
never travels and it is
always new water.

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Or Is It Learning to be More Than That?

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , on February 1, 2012| 9 Comments »

I curl the question mark of my body
into the silence around us. There is silence

inside of us, too, a pure silence that pools
and spills and overflows making it easier now to not know,

to not even guess what comes next,
and after years of wanting answers and trying

to make the world fit into an equation or an outline
or a calendar square or a rhyme scheme, I am

more easy now with falling into silence, with falling and
not even believing in wings, falling past

the hands reaching out to rescue me as if
falling is a terrible thing. But even falling

is a form of knowing, just a new metaphor,
a new word for path. And even a question mark

knows where it curves, where it is line, where it
breaks, where it becomes a point, one small point

amongst many small points. I am learning,
unlearning, to be less than that.

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