Posted in Uncategorized, tagged losing the self, poem, poetry on September 11, 2013| 1 Comment »
what invisible blade
eviscerates this body
more space, more space
*
a new grammar
blurring first and third persons—
who thinks she is I
*
this needing you—
like expecting apple juice
from a peach
*
I’ll not believe you,
still the thrill when you say
I am beautiful
*
the emptier I get
the more room for god
to wrestle
*
perfume of ripe pears—
every part of me wearing
relentless gratitude
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged poetry blog, rattlings, Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer on September 11, 2013| Leave a Comment »
If you’re looking for some poetic inspiration, check out this fun new site, Rattlings. They picked up one of my poems from last week, thanks editors!
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged appreciation, love, poem, poetry, rain, relationship on September 11, 2013| 1 Comment »
Like quiet rain falling for days,
that is how I want to love you.
So that no part of you goes
untouched. The rain softens
everything, brings out luster and hue
in even the dullest gray stone, and with
the tiniest bit of light, the rain turns
the whole world to shine. So quiet
you almost don’t even notice,
but there it is, everywhere you are.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged gratitude, humility, Issa, poem, suffering, tea on September 9, 2013| 2 Comments »
Tsuyu no yo wa tsuyu no yo nagara sari nagara
The world of dew —
A world of dew it is indeed,
And yet, and yet . . .
—Issa
Thank you for this world of dew,
for dew enough to fill a cup,
to fill my small cup to brimming,
though some mornings all the dew’s been spilled.
It matters not the hand that spilled it,
though there is a tug toward blame.
In the story, the Hindu master pours the cup
too full, and when the tea begins to spill
the scientists appeal to him in shock.
You are too full, he says to them.
Come back to me when you are empty.
Then we’ll talk.
World, thank you for emptying me.
And thank you for my cup, for this
fragile cup with it’s long thin cracks.
Thank you for my thirst,
this thirst so deep sometimes
I beg for one more sip.
And thank you for these lips
that beg, thank you for the empty cup,
and thank you for the sometimes dew.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged acceptance, apple, pleasure, poem, poetry, transformation on September 8, 2013| 2 Comments »
Not once
has the worm
said to the apple
your flesh
does not taste
good enough.
But it is so much
nicer, you don’t
need to be a worm
to understand,
when the fruit
is full of sugar
and the dark,
lonely work
is also sweet.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged infinity, oneness, poem, poetry, race, Rumi on September 7, 2013| 4 Comments »
“Sir”, says the volunteer,
“you need to stay on the trail.”
But Rumi, running in blue Adidas
continues to find his way down
through the boulder field and cliffs.
“There is a moving palace that floats in the air,”
Rumi shouts back toward the road,
“with balconies and clear water
flowing through, infinity everywhere.”
The volunteer shouts after him.
“But sir, these cliffs aren’t safe!”
Rumi laughs. “The anger of police is willfulness.
Now see the invisible.”
The volunteer shouts,
“But the rules!”
And Rumi becomes
a field of open sunlight,
a field of open sunlight
in blue Adidas shoes.
He is a river moving.
The volunteer doesn’t
know what to do.
He turns to tell the woman
beside him about
the whole strange thing,
then thinks the better of it,
and pours another cup of Gatorade.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged closet, fear, poem, poetry, secret on September 6, 2013| 4 Comments »
The secret does not want
to come out of the closet.
It is very comfortable,
thank you very much,
snuggled as it is
into the sweatshirts and old t-shirts
that no one ever wears
nearly forgotten up there
on the top shelf. And it
would rather the closet
stays just as it is. No rearranging,
no digging through the layers,
no taking things away to Good Will.
Perhaps you forgot that the secret
has teeth. Sharp. Don’t worry. If you
so much as open the closet door
you’ll remember soon enough.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged love, mystery, poem, stars on September 5, 2013| 1 Comment »
dusting off all these
stars we’ve forgotten
to wish on, surprised
to find a new
constellation
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged allowing, letting go, love, poem on September 5, 2013| 1 Comment »
he will hurt you and you will hurt him. you will want to pull out all your hair. you won’t have to. it will begin to fall out on its own. you will find blame and then come to see that everything that frustrates and angers you will point back to you. there are days this will feel like freedom. you will see all the lines you drew around the way you think that things should be. you will lose the energy to redraw them. this is what is meant by love. it will consume you and you will lose every idea you ever had about what love is. you will lose any ideas you come up with as replacements. you will fall into tenderness you never dreamt of and keep falling. everything you thought was a handhold will slip by you or disappear. you will lose yourself and think this is a blessing. you will be blessed and you will be blessed. you will remember not reading the fine print, signing your name with a flourish of free flowing ink. you will forget how to regret. there are no returns. you will fall into love beyond imagining.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged kindergarten, letting go, love, parenting, poem on September 3, 2013| 3 Comments »
full
the
heart
that
holds
the
girl
and
more
full
(how?)
the
heart
that
lets
her
go