building a cup tower,
then laughing as they all come down,
inviting myself
to imagine the word Dixie
on all these towers I’ve built
Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category
One Nod to Anarchy
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged anarchy, gardening, poem, poetry on May 29, 2017| Leave a Comment »
After Winter
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged poem, poetry, present, seasons, spring on May 27, 2017| Leave a Comment »
Sometimes in spring
I forget it is ever
not spring, forget
that there will be a time
without hummingbirds
and the raucous call
of the geese. These lilacs
and their purple scent
are forever. Forever
is this deep green field.
I almost resent
the voice that writes this poem,
the part that notices how already
the apples have gone
from ecstatic white bloom
to small hard fruit.
One Inevitable
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged future, inevitability, poem, poetry on May 26, 2017| Leave a Comment »
Adrift
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged home, poem, poetry, tune on May 25, 2017| Leave a Comment »
A tune with no words
weaves through the day.
All day I let it find me,
do not try to turn off
the imaginary dial
that would make things
quieter. It is a comfort,
this tune, knowing
there are still words
to be written, still harmonies
to be found. The song
baptizes me, brings
beauty to what I fear
is a dark time.
It is a home inside
I take with me
everywhere I go.
One Humbling
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged 84, poem, poetry, spring, work on May 24, 2017| Leave a Comment »
in seven days
the radish sprouts
push green through earth—
every job on my list today
seems quite easy
Dear Dad,
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged affection, daughter, epistle, father, green, love, poem, poetry on May 23, 2017| 2 Comments »
Out the window the world is reassembling itself. The shades of green begin to emerge in the field—so many greens. Some part of me wants to name them all—emerald, sage, Kelly, lime, avocado, moss, spring. I want to name them not to organize them, but to celebrate each one.
Last week I did a training on how to assess parental affection. It’s a funny idea, the quantification of affection. It reminds me of the way children will sometimes fling their arms back behind their shoulders in an awkward joy and say, “I love you thiiiiiiiis much.”
One of the markers for affection is parental use of endearments—honey, sweetie, pumpkin, darling. As the evaluator, I am asked to mark if this is absent, present or emerging.
I don’t think you ever called me honey or sweetie, Dad, in fact, no generic terms of endearment. You always had your own special names for me that emerged out of play—Penelope, Reesmorie, Rosamarinipuscavazini, Roxanne the Foxanne, Rox. I always knew I was special to you, branded by your love of silliness, your love of me. And sometimes, when I was down, I would call you, and just hearing you say your special name for me made life seem just a little bit better.
The greens outside the window are brighter now. They seem to suggest an infinite potential inside a finite range. I know it is just the bending of light, but it thrills me.
This morning, I would like to give you this sense of infinite possibility, offer it to you while you are far away in a hospital bed and it feels as if the options are closing. Inside that finite window of options, there is an infinite potential for healing. We couldn’t possibly name all the available outcomes, though I suppose we could rate them as absent, emerging and present.
What is present is the enormous love I have for you. I’m not interested in measuring it, really, just in giving it to you, letting you know how I celebrate you. As if with love alone I could take away the pain you are in.
Who am I kidding? I guess I do wish I could express the extent of love so that you could feel the infinite ways it unfolds in the finite space of my heart. And though the only name I have for you, Dad, is generic, I wish that by saying your name on the other end of the phone, things might feel just a little bit better.
Dad, I love you, thiiiiiiiis much,
Roxanne
