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Archive for September, 2014

September Harvest

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on September 20, 2014| Leave a Comment »

they taste better,
the rosehips, after the frost,
softer and sweeter—
even so, it’s hard
to want the frost

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And Then You Ask the Next Question

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on September 18, 2014| 4 Comments »

Sometimes, if you ask
the right question,
and there are infinite

right questions to ask,
then the world cracks,
not in a way that makes

it more broken, but
cracks in a way
that makes it more whole,

as if you’ve been living
in a glass tank without
knowing the glass

were there. But oh!
after the shattering,
when someone asks you,

“Does the universe
act on us or do we act on
the universe,” you feel

in your breath and your
pulse that you and the universe
are the very same thing,

you feel it with absolute
certainty even as your
mind races

to find the place
where the glass
used to be.

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Nothing to Get Tense About

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on September 17, 2014| Leave a Comment »

I imagine the surgeon’s knife
removes the part of my brain
that discriminates present
from past and what will be.
I wake up to everything.
The apple is all at once
sapling and blossom and
sweet red weight and bruise
and white flesh and stump of tree.
The forest is all at once
ash and shade and spruce
and aspen, chopped and
old growth and song-rung
and hushed. And you and I
are innocent, red handed,
coming and lost, all alone
and interlocked, weeping
and giddy, walled in and
bare, really no different
from now, my dear.

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Love Bent the Bars

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on September 16, 2014| Leave a Comment »

hiding in this cage
felt so safe until
I began to notice
what else
was hiding in this cage

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Six Pondlings

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on September 14, 2014| 2 Comments »

why wear a red dress
when you can wear
a red canoe?

*

trying to memorize
these waves and the way they rise—
already distracted by those waves

*

casting for fish
I hook my own loneliness—
it steals the bait, swims away

*

I tell myself
I would have jumped in
if the boat hadn’t tipped first

*

I could swim better
if I let go
of this paddle

*

just when you think
you’ll never forget, all that you
can remember later
is that there was something
very special not to forget

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But Sometimes I Forget

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on September 13, 2014| Leave a Comment »

Is it truly dark, or is this darkness
like what we call night—

nothing more than our backs
turned to the sun.

It is not the light that has changed.
It’s a matter of where we stand.

Though I know this, the night
appears no less dark.

Sometimes, when I
lose hope for the world,

I ask myself if I have lost hope in you,
if I have lost hope in me.

Always the answer
is the same.

By now you would think
I would never forget

that the sun is only one
of many, many lights.

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After Reading the News

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on September 12, 2014| Leave a Comment »

All day the dull gray weight
of hatred sits on me like
a heavyweight wrestler
and refuses to move.
The referee does not exist.
I lose the will to struggle.
Meanwhile, I watch myself
lie there beneath him, as if
watching myself in a movie,
and I walk away from the whole
sad scene, my heart
responding to some invitation
I wish would come …
to find love in me for everyone
I meet, even for that wrestler,
even for that woman lost
beneath his weight.

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Reframe

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , on September 11, 2014| Leave a Comment »

forever
taking my first
step

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Pulling Carrots

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on September 10, 2014| Leave a Comment »

From the top I
can’t tell if the
carrot below
will be straight
or spiraled, stubby
or long, but I like
to guess, and I’m
usually wrong.
And I do not
mind it at all
being wrong,
in fact I love
the surprise.
I tell myself,
wouldn’t it
be something
if I could be
so wrong
with you.

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Though Sometimes It’s Hard to Want to Believe It

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on September 9, 2014| 2 Comments »

In the same breath that I curse the world
I praise it. It is impossible not to see
what a mess we’ve made, and yet … how
relentlessly beautiful the rabbit brush
blooms in the ditch, all yellow and vigorous,
growing out of the busted up asphalt
and Marlboro boxes and twisted beer cans.
It’s no miracle, you might say. It’s just a weed.
But I know a miracle when I see one.
It looks a lot like whatever is happening
outside the window right now.

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