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Archive for August, 2015

Who Am I to You?

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on August 22, 2015| 1 Comment »

please, not the book

about jazz sitting pretty on the shelf—

let me be the hard-swinging

restless improvisation

slipping right off the known scale

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Inside Story

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , on August 21, 2015| 1 Comment »

Inside the egg, the question.

Inside the leaf, the light.

Inside the beak, silence.

Inside the mask, the night.

Inside the yarn, the tangle.

Inside the blue, the why.

Inside the cage, the great escape.

Inside the wings, the high.

Inside the paint, curiosity.

Inside the stich, the gap.

Inside the now, tomorrow.

Outside the lines, the map.

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One Inexplicable

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on August 19, 2015| 2 Comments »

 

years ago the wildfire—

this morning in my hair

faint scent of smoke

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Caught in the Act

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on August 19, 2015| 4 Comments »

Let’s say you’re carrying a priceless bowl

overflowing with fruits and flowers,

and let’s say you’re balancing it on your head.

And let’s say you’re on a high wire.

And let’s say the wire is above the falls.

And let’s say it’s electrical.

And let’s say it’s about to come unplugged.

Let’s say you’re in the middle.

What is it that inspires you

to do these crazy things?

Regardless, Now’d be the right time to learn

how to use those enormous wings,

those wings you’ve pretended not to have—

that you hid because, who knows why?

We all fall sometime from the high wire act,

but some of us learn to fly.

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Tell Me It’s Real

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on August 17, 2015| 3 Comments »

Swirl me with pink and plum and blue,

and soak me in wisps of amber and orange.

Drench me in cream and nectarine.

Please, how do I get there?

This wooden heart seems

to only know how to beat

in shades of brown.

I see it from here, that sunset world.

God it is beautiful—

but it is like a canvas

I stare at for years,

I know it’s every line by heart,

but I can never enter.

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Why I Hugged You a Moment Longer Today

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on August 17, 2015| 3 Comments »

Of course I know I am going to die

I know it the same way I know

the sun is dying, too. This is a fact,

that feels far away. All the same,

I carry it with me today as I notice

how the new summer growth

on the spruce is startlingly blue.

And the river, low and clear, wears a shimmer

in its song. Every flower in the bed

is fully in blossom, and the meadows

are lush and green. I know they will die,

as I will die, though all of us seem so wildly

alive in this moment, especially the bindweed

I pull from the garden as if

there will be a tomorrow

with plants that need space to grow.

I speak to the reaching tendrils of beans

in hopes of a harvest,

though there are, as of yet, no white blooms.
I tell them frost will come soon.

When Donna’s letter arrives on my screen,

I am just stepping in from the garden.

It was unexpected, she says.

In her letter, I swallow a hint of what else

is as real as the green all around,

and in me ripens a deeper hint of blue,

a hue that reframes so tenderly

these fleet shades of the living.

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While Her Stoic Portrait

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on August 15, 2015| 1 Comment »

This morning when she pours the milk

into the child’s cup, she doesn’t stop.

She pours until the cup is full, until

it spills across the counter, ’til it spills

onto the floor. She pours and pours

until the kitchen is flooded in milk,

it is up to her knees, it is up to her waist,

it is dammed against the kitchen door,

which she opens, then she floats the creamy tide

into morning, riding atop the pearly tide.

With one hand, she waves at her neighbors,

with the other she continues to pour the milk.

She is surfing now through the streets of town,

past the bank, past the school, past the crowd

who has gathered to stare. “Oh,” they say,

with a shake of their heads, “she has really lost it

this time, bless her heart,” and they step

on the curb to keep their feet from getting wet,

and she smiles and blows them a one-handed kiss,

and with her other hand she pours and pours.

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Yet Another Layer

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on August 15, 2015| 3 Comments »

Steeping so long

in this coat of shoulds

I forgot it was on

’til slipping out by accident

I see it hanging separate

while I stand bare

and strangely new,

wondering what this naked

soul can do.

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Tipping Point

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on August 13, 2015| 2 Comments »

I wanted to be more like you,

I did. I wanted to fit in

your hummingbird world

with its hummingbird nests

and its delicate wings and

its predisposition toward

delicate things, such as

tea cups and flowers

and gossamer strings.

So I painted my body

with delicate swirls

and colorful, whimsical

intricate whorls, and I tried

to fit my whole self inside

your dainty settings,

I tried, I tried to be more

like you, but there is no hiding

these giant gray legs and

this massive gray trunk

and these floppy gray ears.

It’s obvious. I am an elephant,

dear, and I just can’t squeeze into

this fragile world.

I belong home

in the elephant herd.

And I’m sorry I broke your fine

china cups. It’s so evident now

I can’t fit in them, but …

well, sometimes we need

to fail to learn. We need to digress

before we return.

I still think you’re lovely,

though slightly absurd,

oh beautiful, delicate,

bright hummingbirds.

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In the Fortune Teller’s Tent

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on August 13, 2015| Leave a Comment »

A dozen dozen crystal balls

and not a one will tell us how

our story ends. Opaque as pearls,

they show us nothing of our world.

A dozen dozen crystal balls,

all of them unreadable.

And still we try. We want to know

just how the future will unfold.

Instead of crystal balls, my dear,

let’s try using a handheld mirror.

Or better yet, a windowed room.

Or better yet, some hiking shoes.

Let’s see what is unfolding now

and join it in its opening.

Already much more is possible

when we don’t know where we’re going.

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