Plan A: wear my best party dress
Plan B: stick out my tongue
Plan C: realize I don’t have a good plan
Plan D: notice the part of me that notices the doubt
Plan E: throw away the plans
Archive for November, 2017
When Doubt Comes
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged doubt, poem, poetry on November 30, 2017| Leave a Comment »
And If You Forget What You’re Going to Say
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged humming, poem, poetry on November 29, 2017| Leave a Comment »
How Not to Put Your Daughter to Bed (because you’ll laugh too hard)
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged lullaby, mockingbird, parody, poem, poetry on November 28, 2017| 2 Comments »
Hush little baby, don’t say a word,
mama’s gonna buy you a mockingbird.
And if that mockingbird don’t fly,
mama’s gonna bake you a Brussel sprout pie,
and if that pie crust doesn’t brown,
mama’s gonna buy you a circus clown,
and if that clown has got a knife,
mama’s gonna make you purple kite,
and if that kite gets tangled in the tree,
mama’s gonna buy you a wooden knee,
and if that wooden knee won’t bend,
mama’s gonna find you a golden hen,
and if that golden hen won’t lay,
mama’s gonna buy you a bale of hay,
and if that bale of hay’s too damp,
mama’s gonna buy you a lava lamp,
and if that lava lamp don’t shine,
mama’s gonna draw you a dotted line,
and if that dotted line’s too straight,
mama’s gonna keep you up too late
and if her lullaby goes all wrong,
mama’s gonna sing you a different song.
Ars Poetica
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged creative process, hiding, meadow, poem, poetry on November 27, 2017| 2 Comments »
Vespers
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged poem, poetry, silence on November 26, 2017| 2 Comments »
Listening to the stars
at the top of the drive—
how quiet they are.
I tell myself that silence, too,
is a song, but the only harmony
for silence is silence.
Everything I don’t know
clamors in the night.
What is quiet inside it
stays quiet—I listen
for it. My ears hum
with nothing.
Revolution
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged poem, poetry, sun on November 25, 2017| Leave a Comment »
All this time circling
you like a planet,
sustained by your heat
your light, and now
this longing to be
less sphere, more moth—
In the Recesses
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged loneliness, poem, poetry, self knowledge, toast on November 25, 2017| 4 Comments »
Sometimes there’s enough joy
in the day that the you who is afraid to be alone
and the you who loves to be alone
and the you who is never alone
and the you who is always alone
all sit at the same table
and share a glass of wine
and though they say nothing
they nod in easy agreement
and wordlessly toast
to each other’s health.
The wine tastes of sunshine,
of yesterdays, of giving up,
a sweetness they can’t name.
One Thanksgiving
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged family, missing, poem, poetry, thanksgiving on November 25, 2017| 2 Comments »
Self-portrait as Tenement
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged beauty, city, poem, poetry, sunset on November 25, 2017| 2 Comments »
So sweepingly pink
the sunset over the city
that it pours
into the emptiness—
not to fix it, no,
more as if to show
what a little splendor can do
when given a place
to enter.
After Rumors of the End of the World
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged avocado, end of the world, poem, poetry, sharing on November 22, 2017| 4 Comments »
If we are running out of time,
no one has told that to the avocado
which sits on the counter
hard and light green as if
not only will there be
a tomorrow, but in fact,
things might just be
much more delicious then,
so smooth, so perfect,
so ready to be shared.
One Blustery
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged chicago, poem, poetry, smile, wind on November 20, 2017| Leave a Comment »
One Over the Loudspeaker
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged aging, dancing, music, poem, poetry on November 20, 2017| Leave a Comment »
and suddenly I’m singing
in the cereal aisle,
unable to turn the music up
and dancing anyway—
the words spin me
like old friends,
My older self looks back
at me and says,
that’s right,
move it sister
while you still hear
the music, while you still
can dance.
After All This Talk of Healing
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged healing, nest, poem, poetry, wound on November 18, 2017| Leave a Comment »
One Stormy Night
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged cloud, love letter, poem, poetry on November 18, 2017| 6 Comments »
One Almost
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged one love, poem, poetry, rain on November 16, 2017| Leave a Comment »
writing a letter on a leaf
and throwing it to the wind—
all day it smells like rain
One Game
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged frisbee, poem, poetry, waiting on November 16, 2017| Leave a Comment »
One Flying Lesson
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged poem, poetry, pull the rug out from under, unknown on November 14, 2017| Leave a Comment »
Time for a Change
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged change, poem, poetry on November 14, 2017| 3 Comments »
with thanks to Alan Cohen
rearranging the furniture,
that works for a while—
what the heart really wants
is to take out
the walls
La Petite Mort
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged la petit mort, orgasm, poem, poetry on November 12, 2017| 8 Comments »
Raven me, river me, tremor, deliver me,
pink me, tall drink me, unfurl,
canyon me, plunder me, lightning and thunder me,
tide me, tsunami me, curl,
rob my dark berry, my wheat field, my mango,
wring from my cloud all its rain,
unsmall me, outsprawl me, earthquake and enthrall me,
undo me, unwho me again.
Knowing You’ll Never Be a Champion Wrestler
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged champion wrestling, doubt, poem, poetry on November 12, 2017| Leave a Comment »
title and poem inspired by Jack Ridl
But if you were, you’d buy one of those thick rubber mats
and spread it out in the living room. You’d invite doubt
for a match. You’d shift in your corner from foot to foot,
crouched like a hunter, arms flexed, legs spry.
You’d stare doubt in the eye, that heel, and wait
for the ref’s bright whistle. The rules are not real rules.
Doubt doesn’t stand a chance against you—
not with your choke slam, your dropkick,
your iron claw, your pile driver. You
with your full nelson, your moonsault,
your flapjack, your guillotine drop. You’ll have doubt
on her back, begging you to stop. You smile at her
as the ref leans in, then snarl, then smile again.
You’ll let her make the first move. You’ll have the last.
Oh yeah, you’ve got this. The belt’s already yours.
God, you love this sport, this fight. Blow the whistle,
already. You’ve read the script. Hot damn. This is your night.