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Archive for December, 2012

What a beautiful interview

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on December 12, 2012| 2 Comments »

What a beautiful interview

Today’s Daily Planet came out with an interview about my new collection, The Less I Hold–I thought Heather Sackett did a fine job of getting to the heart of the book and my writing process. 

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When It Comes to Loving

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on December 12, 2012| 2 Comments »

It’s like trying
to drink from the spring
with two cupped hands—

the water always
slips through.

Better to plunge
the face in and
drink, like a dog,

like a cat, like
a human who
has surrendered

to thirst.

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Almost

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

Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes
and no. No advice that sticks.
The snow comes down

like an afterthought. A flake
on the street. A flake on the nose.
Sometimes I live this way. Perhapsishly

and maybeing. Sixty-five shades
of gray. No rule I can believe in
enough to write it down. Life

itself the exception. Every day
the proof, and then this snow.
I used to think I knew what

gravity was. And love. True,
the snow comes down. But
the heart? How to explain

this rising, this infinite
falling apart, the tangled
astonishing mess. This snow

falling from nowhere. No. No. No.
No. No. No. I say. And yes.

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Almost to the Solstice

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on December 9, 2012| 4 Comments »

I’ll be your harvester of light.
—Sara Bareilles, “Winter Song”

Darling, it is dark.
Here are my hands,
the hidden spirals
in the palms. And here,
from my fingertips,
my forehead, my feet,
streams of photons—
invisible beacons,
tiny energized
increments of light.
From yours, too. Imagine
the lattice we make.
The Buddhists say
we are what we are
only in relation
to what we are not.
This long night.
This darkness. This
thinking we are alone.

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Five from Highway 285

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , on December 8, 2012| 2 Comments »

hole in the fence—
while driving sixty
my mind slips through

*

frozen stream
still the sound
of water

*

trading in my name
for two
round stones

*
snow bluster and squall—
in the rearview mirror
all blue

*

nothing nothing nothing
in the field, and so much
filling it in

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Taking My Hands Off the Wheel

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , on December 8, 2012| 3 Comments »

God must have tired
of all that sweet talk
and sending subtle signs,
coming instead the way
he did in a ripped white t-shirt,
banging at the car door.
I did not open it at first,
so he pulled off the handle,
then ripped the metal,
and pulled it off piece
by piece till nothing
remained of the door.
He was thirsty he said.
I gave him what I had,
half a bottle of spring water,
but he growled at me
knowing I was hiding
the tequila in the back seat.
I did not ask him
what he had to teach me.
Nor did I run
out the open door
to hide in the ditch.
I just handed him
the bottle, knowing
things would be really
uncontrollable now, and god,
he looked right at me
and took a big, long drink.

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two new

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on December 8, 2012| 2 Comments »

night so dark
not even my shadow
walks with me

*

fooled you
said my shadow
the shape of the night

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Video Poem: In Unlikely Places

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

Video Poem: In Unlikely Places

I am such a fan of this blog, Journey of the Heart, and today they’ve posted another of my video poems, this one about the grace that sometimes comes out of what looks like a big big bummer … 

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Sneak a listen to the new poems

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

Sneak a listen to the new poems

Check out the nice recording of three poems from the new book, The Less I Hold, featured in this post on Telluride Inside and Out. Thank you Susan! 

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If I Needed You

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on December 6, 2012| 2 Comments »


Would you come for me and ease my pain? –Townes Van Zandt

And if you say,
shall I kiss it,
then I shall say
yes, please, and
lead your lips
to the paper cut
on my right ring
finger. And if you
say, shall I kiss
it, I shall say
yes, please, and lead
your lips to the hollow
in my back where
the wings would be,
the place where
sometimes I collapse
and the pain shoots
into my wrist, my neck.
There’d be a whole trail
then for kissing.
The pain, it’s elusive,
it shifts every day.
And if you say,
shall I kiss it, I shall
say yes, and guide your
lips to my jaw
tight from clenching.
And if you say shall I
then I shall say please,
though the places
that hurt the most,
they are ones
that defy the word
here. But here, I shall say,
and here, I shall say.
And here. Please. And here.

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