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Archive for September, 2020

We turn off the music. Practice left turns

onto the highway. Park on the bias.

Park on the street. We get gas.

Drive backwards. Use the median.

Change lanes. Use the blinker.

Slow down. Full stop.

There’s a rule for everything

and a comfort in knowing the rules.

“And you can practice everywhere,”

notes our DMV guidelines, “so have at it!”

Imagine if we all practiced everywhere.

If we all signaled before every turn—

turn of heart, turn of mind, turn of plans.

Imagine if we all agreed, no matter where

we’re going and no matter where we’ve been,

that we are all travelers on the same side,

knowing we’re on this road together.

Imagine if we agreed to stop in an orderly way—

no drama, no shaming, no blame,

so that someone else might take their turn to go.

Imagine, getting along with others,

no matter what they believe,

could be as simple as keeping it steady,

looking over your shoulder,

making eye contact in a crossing,

giving each other some space.

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Inside my heart is a gardener.

She knows eventually

all seeds planted in the heart

will die. That doesn’t stop her

from planting. And on a night

when she knows it will frost—

winter, after all, comes soon—

that doesn’t stop her

from rummaging around for blankets

to cover everything in bloom.

You could just let it go,

says some other inner voice.

Nothing lasts forever.

She pauses to listen.

Perhaps all she’ll get is one more week—

one more week of lush and unruly beauty,

one more week of riotous love.

It’s late and she’s tired.

She grabs another blanket.

Damn right, she’ll fight for it.  

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Why I Smile at Strangers

In difficult times, carry something beautiful in your heart.

          

–Blaise Pascal

And so today, I walk the streets

with vermillion maple leaves inside me,

and the deep purple of late-blooming larkspur

and the lilting praise of meadowlark.

I carry with me thin creeks with clear water

and the three-quarters moon

and the spice-warm scent of nasturtiums.

And honey in the sunlight.

And words from Neruda and

slow melodies by Erik Satie.

It is easy sometimes to believe

that everything is wrong.

That people are cruel and the world

destroyed and the end of it all

imminent. But there is yet goodness

beyond imagining—the creamy

white flesh of ripe pears

and the velvety purr of a cat in my lap

and the white smear of milky way—

I carry these things in my heart,

more certain than ever that one way

to counteract evil is to ceaselessly honor what’s good

and share it, share it until

we break the choke hold of fear

and at least for a few linked moments,  

we believe completely in beauty,

growing beauty, yes, beauty.

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Benediction

            for Craig and Daiva

Tonight love is a stray dog,

hungry and lean, manhood intact,

who wanders to your front yard,

drawn by the smell of food

and also to the laughter,

the quiet guitar, the poems.

He laps at spilled wine.

He nuzzles your hand.

He curls into the lap

of everyone who will receive him.

And though you can’t fathom

where he came from, can’t name him,

can’t say what will happen tomorrow,

tonight, love finds a place

on your bench and nestles in,

refuses to leave, insists

on being at the center of things.

Meanwhile, overhead,

Jupiter and Saturn, the two biggest worlds

in our solar system, prepare to conjoin.

Meanwhile, all around there is howling.

But love doesn’t make any noise,

no, he is content to listen to your voices

telling the story of how it all began.

He is content to be here,

content to let you turn another page,

while at your feet, he stretches, settles,

makes your home his home.

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making you a bouquet

of morning light—

leaving it at your doorstep

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Taking It All Off

In order to swim, one takes off all one’s clothes—in order to aspire to the truth, one must undress in a far more inward sense, divest oneself of all one’s inward clothes, of thoughts, conceptions, selfishness, etc., before one is sufficiently naked.
         

   —Søren Kierkegaard

And so I attempt to slip out

of the shirt of defensiveness,

slip off the belt of shame.

I wriggle against the jeans

of righteousness and tug

off the socks of distrust.

It’s scary to take it all off,

but everything else feels too tight

these days, and damn,

I just want the truth so bad,

want to wear it like my own skin,

want to step into it like slippers

I will never take off, want to

wear it like boots that will

carry me over any terrain,

want to wear it like

an eternal perfume—

something I am sure is there

even with my eyes closed,

even in the dark.

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(Photo by ANDREW CABALLERO-REYNOLDS / AFP) (Photo by ANDREW CABALLERO-REYNOLDS/AFP via Getty Images)

Tonight, September 23, 2020, PBS News Hour ran my poem, “In the Steps of RBG” as part of the celebration of the Supreme Court Justice’s life and legacy. It includes an interview with me and a video of me reciting the poem. I am so grateful for all the work she did, for all the ways she helped create equality, and for all the ways she inspired us to create social change “one step at a time.” Even more so, I am grateful for her example of integrity, kindness, and willingness to be a bridge builder–she never stooped to name calling or nastiness. She treated everyone with respect. As my friend Blake Spalding says, it’s time for all of us to channel our inner RBG. Let’s take some steps, friends. Together.

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            (title after a first line by e.e. cummings)

when you with your nimble

and radiant thoughts

reach into the junkyard of my mind

and there—hiding behind

some old rusty shoulds

and burnt-out what ifs—

you find a small tarnished scrap

of lost perhaps and hold it up

like a treasure, burnish it

with fierce devotion

until even I can see

how it shines.

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They said

it’s a wall

so I believed

it’s a wall

until I reached

through the wall

and found my hand

full of flowers.

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            with thanks to Rebecca Mullen

but what if I can’t do enough

I said, and love said

what if you don’t try?

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