you and I—
two threads joined in one
miraculous cloth
Archive for February, 2015
No Matter Who You Are
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged community, poem, poetry, unity on February 28, 2015| 1 Comment »
Before We Say a Word
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged awakening, love, poem, poetry, sleep, tenderness on February 27, 2015| 4 Comments »
I like my body in the mornings
when the light has not yet stolen the room,
and when you, in darkness, turn your length
toward my length and bend your body
to match the curve of my spine.
I like the warmth our bodies find,
I like your legs bowed into mine,
your feet like a tangle of roots about my feet.
I like my neck when it’s touched by your breath,
and I like my waist when your hand rests there.
And my belly, I like how soft it is, like sweet dough rising.
So tender, this drowsy, dreamy, yielding state
when we are more flesh than name, more limb than thought,
more breath than what we know.
And the darkness holds us quietly,
your body, my body, oh how we linger,
indulgent, our boundaries blurred,
while all around us, even inside us,
the world with its edges and certainties
begins to dawn.
Wild Rose Learns to Paint
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged alter ego, Art, bliss, painting, poem, poetry on February 24, 2015| 2 Comments »
She starts with marigold.
She pours the paint into a cup and selects the fattest brush.
The paint drips all over the floor as she moves toward the canvas.
She doesn’t care about the mess.
She drags huge pulls of marigold onto the blank, stroke after stroke after stroke.
There is no pattern, no purpose, no why.
More paint, she says to no one, more paint!
And she opens the ochre, the navy, the pomegranate, the plum.
She forgets about cups and pours the paint
directly into her hands. Then it’s hurl of paint, smash of paint,
fist and smear and splat of paint. Long slow pinky fingered tease of paint.
Puddles of paint. Great rainbowed pools.
She rolls in the paint and then rolls her body against the walls, the doors,
every inch of the virgin floor.
Every part of her is color now, and there is nothing
she’s not ready to touch.
Little Lie
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged lie, poem, poetry, sonnet on February 24, 2015| 2 Comments »
Today it’s blessing fine enough I did
not fall and break my favorite crystal vase,
I did not choke, nor lose my daughter’s place
in her new chapter book. I didn’t trip
on fallen logs while running, did not flip
my car. I didn’t die, did not replace
my toothpaste with the Preparation H,
I didn’t drop a baby, didn’t slip.
And as for that sweet thing you didn’t say
that I had wished you might have said, it’s so
okay, that detail seems extremely small
amidst these other blessings of the day,
it’s no big deal you didn’t say it—no
big deal. I barely noticed it at all.
*If this looks familiar, it is … it’s an older poem I turned into a sonnet …
When I Was Five
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged childhood, death, poem, poetry on February 22, 2015| 3 Comments »
Whitish and filmy, their eyes clouded over,
the dead bluegills and croppies would float
to the top of the lake and catch in the seaweed.
I’d splash with my hands at the water’s surface
and make waves to push their rotting bodies
toward the neighbor’s pier.
And then my brother and I would play.
Death, then, was just something to push away,
certainly nothing that had anything to do with us.
That’s the Kind of Woman She Is
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged apology, friendship, mean girl, poem, poetry on February 22, 2015| 5 Comments »
An apology is the superglue of life. It can repair just about anything.
—Lynn Johnston
I wanted her to apologize,
told myself I needed it.
She gave me a blank page.
A silent room.
A heart wildly aware
of its own beating.
If she had any inkling
how rich these gifts have been,
how much more abundant and spacious my life
has become,
I think
she would have
apologized.
Musca Domestica
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged brain, evolution, housefly, instinct, poem, poetry on February 21, 2015| 3 Comments »
The deep similarities we see between how our brains and those of insects regulate behavior suggest a common evolutionary origin. It means that prototype brain circuits, essential for behavioral choice, originated very early and have been maintained across animal species throughout evolutionary time.
—Frank Hirth, Institute of Psychiatry at Kings College London, reported in Science
Sometimes there’s a twitching,
a rapid rubbing of the hands,
a longing to hang out
in the corner of the room,
an impulse to taste
whatever is left
on the counter,
this instinct
to be close to you,
no matter how many times
you shoo me
away.
after Fugu, by D.R. Goodman
Who’s There?
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged poem, poetry, potential on February 20, 2015| 3 Comments »
Before the snow
before the kiss
before the loss
before the hymn
before the fear
before the dust
before the brick
before the hush
there was the rain
that made the world
a glistening place,
there was a girl
who was her dreams
while wide awake
who never thought
of holding back—
sometimes before
the cold spills in
I feel her knock
inside my ribs.
Four Humblings
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged love, poem, poetry on February 19, 2015| 2 Comments »
remembering
we are stars—
another reason to bow
*
taking my eyes off you—
like peeling bark
from a tree
*
those golden leaves
crushed in your hair—
I leave them there
*
you the poem
that always escapes
the pen
Have You Felt It, Too?
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged delight, poem, poetry, self, sonnet, surrender on February 18, 2015| 5 Comments »
In spite of everything, an odd delight
upsurges in the body, like a tide
that claims a rocky shore, or like a wide
and widening pool of morning light—
except it’s messier. It spills, despite
our thin attempts to hold its force inside.
It sloshes, splatters, overflows. It slides
and slips, it floods, upends, engulfs, unrights.
Oh fierce irrational joy! It doesn’t care
about the setting. Doesn’t care who sees.
It soaks us with its ecstasy, its strange
unruly grace. And then it’s gone. No prayer
or pretty please will make it stay. And we
are changed: yes, still ourselves, but rearranged.
Waking Up Grateful
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged identity, ownership, poem, poetry, woman on February 16, 2015| 3 Comments »
You have to remember this isn’t your land.
It belongs to no one
—Philip Levine, “Our Valley”
I am not your land. Not your woman, either.
Not your girl, not your scapegoat, not your Juliet.
I can’t be mapped, can’t be trapped, can’t be pinned.
Can’t be bought, can’t be caught, can’t be won.
But here I am, open handed, and here
you are. I don’t know this valley,
though I’ve walked it many times.
Let’s learn it again together. This time on our knees.
In the Heart of a Warm Winter, I Say Thank You
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged acceptance, poem, poetry, winter on February 16, 2015| 4 Comments »
Poor violets don’t know any better.
They only know it’s been warm for weeks
and the grass is greening and the frost is gone
from the soil. It’s uneasy pleasure, watching
their small blue faces appear so early this year.
Part of me does not want to enjoy them—
the part that longs for cold, for snow,
for the winter that has not come.
One day, there will be nothing left to say.
For now, there are violets blooming
outside the kitchen door. They are beautiful,
nodding in the breeze, no matter
which direction the wind blows.
On Valentine’s Day
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged love, poem, poetry on February 15, 2015| 2 Comments »
In another version of today,
there are feet of snow on the road.
We build a fire and do not leave
the house. Every word we speak
is a cognate of love, and all
we find to eat are dried cherries
and Saltines. We eat them from each other’s hands.
We make strong tea from last year’s mint leaves
and watch the world soften whitely outside.
There is summer in the way we gaze at each other,
so many paths yet to wander.
Ah love, that part is true.
It Used to Rule Me
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged butterfly, poem, poetry, story on February 14, 2015| 3 Comments »
that old story—
I laugh now through the darkest part
and the weight breaks
into a thousand thousand
monarchs
Come, Wind
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged nothingness, poem, poetry, wind, winter on February 13, 2015| 5 Comments »
I am starving for winter.
There is too much bloom in me.
Tuck me into the season of emptiness
and shadow and deep, unfathomable snow.
Teach me to be unrecognizably myself,
the everything that isn’t, the generous
space between. Between what?
Let there be no one here who knows
how to answer. Let the wind reshape
anything it finds.
Literary Burlesque in Paonia, February 13, 2015
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged literary burlesque, poetry performance, Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer on February 12, 2015| Leave a Comment »
This Friday night, treat yourself to a literary unveiling: it’s the Literary Burlesque in Paonia. Whatever you think it might be, it’s probably something else … flirty on top, but then as the layers come off, well, it gets pretty human. A celebration of what it means to be alive, to be sensual, to be vulnerable. It will be the riskiest performance I have ever done–I have so much gratitude for the other performers and dreamers who are participating in the evening who make such risks feel possible. For tickets, visit http://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/1171250 .
And Who Knows Where They Might End Up
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged love, poem, poetry on February 12, 2015| 1 Comment »
And if my lips
just happen to find
your cheek, well,
let’s perhaps say
they were aiming
for somewhere else
but decided that sweetness
comes in many shades,
and if my hands
happen to brush
your shoulder,
your neck, well,
chances are
they didn’t exactly
get lost, more like
they needed a starting
point, some place
called here
from which they
might travel to other
places called here,
and here, and here.
According to Darwin, I Ain’t Gonna Last All that Long
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged badger, boundaries, mean girl, poem, poetry on February 10, 2015| 5 Comments »
First time I saw a badger
it was nowhere near as pretty as you
with your long honey hair and your slender hips,
but just like you it was all spit and snarl and vicious hiss.
I was so curious, I got closer.
Shows what I know about boundaries.
Yeah, I did, I got close enough to see the points
on its sharp yellow teeth,
got close enough to feel its body pull back before the charge,
I could smell its hostile stench.
So you mighta thunk I’d a learned to step back from a badger when I see one,
those unmistakable sharp dark eyes and those meat-ripping claws,
those tenacious jaws that lock and won’t let go,
‘specially when I don’t have a big stick or a can
of pepper spray, nor a gun, not even thick skin, just
this fool open hand that reaches out like some frisky little wide-eyed mouse
as if to say, hey, don’t you think we could be friends?
I Still Think There Might Be Other Options
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged letting go, love, poem, poetry, possessiveness, relationships on February 10, 2015| 3 Comments »
I fling open my arms
to greet the whole world
and you duck and run
right beneath
my wide embrace—
it seems
holding you means
letting go
of everything
everything
else