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Archive for March, 2012

But There’s So Much Coming Across Haiku

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on March 31, 2012| 2 Comments »

Silence knows the only
words worth speaking—
keeps them to itself.

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This Being Human

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , on March 31, 2012| 5 Comments »


A gift for you my heart would bring—the sweet release of everything, the breath I take before I sing…
—Jan Garret, JD Martin and Lisa Aschmann

This is what
we were born for—
the almost unbearable
softness of grass,
the sweet perfume
of blue weeds in spring,
listening to voices
that cannot be heard,
and reaching for that
which can never be held.
The popping sound
of the daffodil bloom,
Having our hearts
ripped open, and again
ripped open, ripped open,
still beating,
the weeping, the salt,
the communion of blood,
the awkwardness of it all—
and the grace.
The wanting and
the wanting to not want,
the roar of the river’s brown shush,
wings we don’t have,
the new leafing out
of the old, old cottonwood tree
and the long walk
to the cemetery
not long enough.
Oh this beautiful ache.
Ashes, we are not ashes
yet.

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And What is Left

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on March 30, 2012| 2 Comments »

From the beginning, the key to renewal has been the casting off of old skin.
—Mark Nepo, “The Book of Awakening”

The way to the promised land is for the me to utterly fail.
—Jeannie Zandi, Telluride, 3/29/12

I saw myself
a broken thing
crumpled, bent,
weary to crying,

small and spent
and watching as
whatever self
she thought she knew

went spilling out
and sloughing off.
It’s amazing what love
gets away with.

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Attempt

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on March 29, 2012| 2 Comments »

I can’t grasp it, but I am so very glad.
—Franz Wright, “A Word for Joy”

The weight of love,
it is sometimes,
to the ounce,

the weight of a man
as he rests
his body on yours.

Though if there is sorrow
or sickness in his thoughts,
the gravity can flatten you.

And sometimes it’s
heavier than that, the weight,
as if he first hems his pants

with lead and then
finds his way to your arms.
And sometimes it’s heavier

even than that, as if
the very air in his lungs
has millions of pockets,

all of them filled
with dull
gray stones.

And sometimes
the weight of love
is no weight at all,

is less than a blade
of orchard grass,
less than a note

hummed in quiet rooms,
less than a memory,
less than the scent

of lilac or rose,
more like the light
that lands on the hand

and makes it open
to hold what never
can be held.

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At the Same Time

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on March 27, 2012| 2 Comments »

One hand weaves new threads
into the nest, the other
slowly pulls them out

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Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , on March 26, 2012| 2 Comments »

Moonless
and still this
shining

*

I’m really getting to know it—
that big rock
in my path

*

dust storm
how many lives
did I just breathe

*

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Even Blossoming

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , on March 25, 2012| 5 Comments »

Erika on the red mat
tucks her right foot in her groin
and bends forward from the waist

then lowers till she’s hovering
above her left tippy toes.
If you can’t follow

what I’m saying, that’s
because her body’s twisted,
furled and folded as a body seldom is.

But full of grace,
she brings her hands
to meet in prayer in front of her

and for a minute poises there,
a compact bulb with five small roots
and a patient shoot waiting

to push up and through.
It’s beautiful to stand beside
Erika on the red mat

to feel more than see
the rising energy as like
a tulip in the spring

she reaches not just up
but into the quiet balance point
where anything can happen.

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Love is Like This

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , on March 25, 2012| 5 Comments »

Above the deep river
on the slenderest branch—
a nest.

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Wanting to Believe It

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on March 24, 2012| 3 Comments »

It’s okay,
she croons to her doll,
and cradles it
in the small angle
of her arm. It’s okay,
and she holds the doll closer,
closer than that.
Then she raises
her voice above the roar
of the vortex dry
and says to me,
Mommy, she’s scared
of the noise.
And in the back seat
the two girls
snuggle against
the clatter and blast.
It’s okay, it’s okay,
it’s okay.

And it’s quiet,
so quiet,
later that night
when she calls to me
from her bed.
Mommy, it’s so dark,
she says.
And we curl
our softnesses together
and I whisper to her
the words
I most want to hear.
It’s okay,
it’s okay
I say.

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No Wonder We’re Smiling So Wide

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , on March 23, 2012| 5 Comments »

It rhymes,

this light
that shines
in me
each time
I shed
the shuck
of self,

rhymes with
this light
in you

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