On a day when the desert potholes
are full of pollywogs and tiny
red-speckled frogs and the blue sky
is dappled with pink-bellied clouds,
and the San Juan is running muddy
and warm, well, you don’t have to have almost just died
to realize how lucky you are to be alive—
nope, it just comes natural, this wanting
to kiss your children, even though
they are whining all day about how
the desert is just full of rocks
and it’s so boring. Yeah, it just kind of happens,
this flash flood of gratitude, this falling in love
with everything dust can do.
Archive for August, 2014
Such a Day
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged desert, falling in love with the world, gratitude, poem, poetry on August 31, 2014| 1 Comment »
Gas Station Eucharist
Posted in Uncategorized on August 30, 2014| 5 Comments »
Not at all like the body and blood
of Christ, this Diet Pepsi and bag
of Barbara’s Jalapeño Cheese Puffs,
but I take it in, feeling blessed
despite the fact that I have seen
what cola will do to an engine.
Perhaps that is what I am hoping
for—the kind of god that will
scour me at the same time
as I lick my fingers and hunger
for more.
In the Garden
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged gardening, green beans, poem, poetry, slow food on August 29, 2014| 1 Comment »
What a gift
to kneel
in the dirt
and search
beneath
the heart-shaped leaves
for the long
and slender green
of beans,
marveling
at how straight
they are, how
green, marveling
as if
the way
they grow
could not only
feed us
but save us.
It’s Only When You Ignore them that they Start to Gain Control
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged allowing, poem, poetry, running, voices on August 28, 2014| 2 Comments »
If you must know, I was scared,
running above tree line in a snowstorm,
unable to see more than twenty feet in front
of my slipping feet. And no one else around.
So why did I keep running? Was it courage?
Determination? Stubborn foolishness?
When the story ends happily ever after,
it is easy to forget there was another possible ending,
but sometimes these alternate worlds
invite themselves into our thoughts,
strange tides of what if? and what then?
Though they are unpleasant, I welcome them.
Why not? I am safe, and they are like
the mean girls, the ones who say the cruelest things,
but because there is no truth in what they say,
it’s not so hard to just nod my head and smile.
This Morning
Posted in Uncategorized on August 27, 2014| Leave a Comment »
watching the cloud
at the base of the mountain
fill with light
when I look away
eleven years have passed
Canticle
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged emptiness, poem, poetry, save on August 26, 2014| 4 Comments »
It’s always something else
we wish would save us—
the right words, for instance,
especially spoken on the right lips.
Or perhaps the temporary shine
inside the generous glass of wine.
And if not that, then friendship.
Or an altar. The sun or a song or a kiss.
But somehow in our hearts
there is always an empty chair,
some sense that someone or something
else is supposed to be here,
even if the room is light. Even when
the rightest words are found.
Even if the wine tastes of melon and grass.
Oh that emptiness. That emptiness
is a chance to ask ourselves, really ask,
who is the one who thinks she needs
to be saved? Sometimes I watch her
slip right through the cracks.
She takes her cross with her,
her books, her prayer mat,
her musts, her beads, her shame,
and what remains is everything.
Making Peace with the Darkness
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged darkness, fear, poem, poetry on August 25, 2014| 4 Comments »
You need not fear the night, my child.
Evening comes to everything.
It finds the raspberries by the road,
it finds the rabbit in her hole.
It finds the river and all its swells.
The evening comes to everything.
As silently as the rainbow bends
the evening comes to everything.
And the roadrunner stops his running
and the honey bees stop their buzzing
and the rattlesnakes stop their sunning
as the evening comes to everything.
As dark and graceful as raven’s wings,
the evening comes to everything.
Even the raindrops as they are falling,
and the Rosa woodsii as it’s blooming
and the wily raccoon who goes exploring,
yes, the evening comes to everything.
I used to fear the darkness, too,
and prayed all night for morning.
But feel how evening holds the world—
the animals, the boys, the girls,
the moms, the dads, the plants, the birds,
it holds us together, our differences blur—
oh, evening come to everything.
*An R poem for Lian Canty’s Alphabet Menagerie
I’ve Got Tomato Stains on my Pants to Prove It
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged blank verse, lie, poem, poetry, tall tale, truth on August 25, 2014| 2 Comments »
I know you’re kinda mad I’m late. I’m sorry,
but you see there was this tiger trapped
up high inside a tree who offered me
a cherry tart if only I would help
him down. What could I do? It just did not
seem right to leave him stranded there. And so
I asked a large tarantula to weave
a silken net to catch the tiger when
he leapt. Well, she was tired from having laid
nine hundred eggs the day before, but when
she heard about the tart, she said she’d try.
A tern and toucan flying by said they
would help me hold the net to catch the tiger
when she leapt. What luck! I didn’t know
they lived around here. Anyway, a toad
in a tiara started teasing them.
He said our plan would never work, that birds
would not be strong enough to catch a tiger.
That’s when the triceratops came rambling
by and said he’d help us, too. But he
began to sneeze, his allergies were acting
up, perhaps it was the tulips? Or
the toadstool? I don’t know. The bummer was
he sneezed so much he had to go. The toucan
and the tern, offended by the toad,
flew off. They said, “A tart is not enough
for this abuse!” So there I sat beneath
the tiger, not sure what to do. That’s when
a turtle sat beside me and suggested
we could use his thimble as a diving
pool. The tiger had his doubts until
he saw a trout tail swish inside the thimble.
And he dove! And landed with a splash!
And came up with the trout between his teeth!
The bad news is he left the tart up in
the tree. And then the grumpy toad began
to throw tomatoes at the turtle. And
at me! And so I ran the whole way home.
I don’t know where the tiger’s gone—he mentioned
wanting to audition for a band.
He said he plays the triangle. It’s weird,
I know. So weird I worried that you’d not
believe me. I thought maybe I should lie
and tell you that I’m late because I didn’t
want to leave my friend’s house in the middle
of our game. But lying is so rude.
I knew that you’d appreciate the truth.
*This is a T poem for Lian Canty’s Alphabet Menagerie, http://www.alphabetmenagerie.com
On Immersion
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged beauty, poem, poetry, to do list on August 25, 2014| 1 Comment »
Sometimes it happens this way,
that the sunflowers all petal out
before the night of the first frost,
and you, though of course you have
endless things to do, find yourself
ambushed by golden lucence
and stand there astonished, baptized
by beauty. It happens. Sometimes
it happens this way. Sometimes
you get the whole list crossed through,
all those black lines streaking the page,
like flowerless stems. It happens.
That, too, is a beautiful site,
but not at all the same.