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Posts Tagged ‘allowing’

Taking My Hands Off the Wheel

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , on December 8, 2012| 3 Comments »

God must have tired
of all that sweet talk
and sending subtle signs,
coming instead the way
he did in a ripped white t-shirt,
banging at the car door.
I did not open it at first,
so he pulled off the handle,
then ripped the metal,
and pulled it off piece
by piece till nothing
remained of the door.
He was thirsty he said.
I gave him what I had,
half a bottle of spring water,
but he growled at me
knowing I was hiding
the tequila in the back seat.
I did not ask him
what he had to teach me.
Nor did I run
out the open door
to hide in the ditch.
I just handed him
the bottle, knowing
things would be really
uncontrollable now, and god,
he looked right at me
and took a big, long drink.

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Celebrate the world’s messiness with a new book of poems!

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , on December 4, 2012| 5 Comments »

Glorious book cover designed by Joel Bass

Glorious book cover designed by Joel Bass

After many months of shuffling and tinkering, here comes The Less I Hold from Turkey Buzzard Press. The title is having a conversation with my book from three years ago, Holding Three Things at Once.

As you all know, who read these poems on the blog, I have a theme of letting go, of surrender, of practicing how to say yes to the world as it is … well, that’s what this collection is all about.

If you live in Colorado, perhaps you can join me at one of these upcoming events:

*Evergreen at Hearthfire Books on Friday, Dec. 7 from 7-9 p.m.,
with Jim Keller and David E. Patton

*Telluride at Between the Covers on Wednesday Dec. 12 at 5:12 p.m, and

*Ridgway at Cimarron Books on Saturday Dec. 15 from 3-5 p.m.

*Cortez at the Cultural Center on Wednesday, Dec. 19 from 5-7 p.m.
with Art Goodtimes and David Feela

*Telluride at the Telluride Historical Museum, Thursday, Dec. 28 from 5-7 p.m.
with an exhibit of Rosemerry’s poetry, books, rocks, videos up all month of Dec.

*Grand Junction at the Art Center on Jan. 4 at 7 p.m.
as an emcee for four poets yet to be announced

But no matter where you live, if you would like a copy of the book, you can email me at wordwoman@mesa.net and I will send you your own signed and gift wrapped copy … $15 plus $3 shipping …

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Where the Light Comes In

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on November 14, 2012| 3 Comments »

Perhaps we could have
seen it coming. That’s
what everyone likes
to say after the world
changes. But there
are things we cannot see,
losses we cannot foretell.
And the world is always
changing, My friend Barry
writes, it is easy to be
an addict of losses,
defining ourselves
by what isn’t there.
And then we tell
the endless versions
of what if and if only and
hush. That’s enough.
Nothing lasts. Not
the glittering rime
on the willows. Not
the lovers lips, not the crystal
dish. Even the longing
we knew would last
shifts. How we love
to visit the ruins. Here,
come walk with me the paths
of this still breaking heart.

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What We Call Waiting

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , on November 6, 2012| 2 Comments »

And then there is
that moment after
the thrust and jostle
and sprint, after the longing
and righteousness, after the fever,
the furor, the fire, the conviction, when,
burnt out by our own
red ferocity, we see
there is nothing, nothing
to be done. There is
no defeat in this,
only release,
Then only
uncertainty is sound
enough to hold us up.
Then unknowingness is the only
place we can truly rest.

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Today I Can Say It But Who Knows About Tomorrow

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on October 30, 2012| 3 Comments »

I used to loathe them,
the dandelions, the cheat grass,
the tamarisk, the whatever
wasn’t what I had planted.
I’d declare war in the field
and spend hours hunched over
removing the dark green rosettes
and ripping up handfuls of grass.
And likewise, I despised
sorrow, wanted to yank it
like a tap-rooted weed.
Wanted a garden without it.
It is not that I would encourage
sorrow now. Would not sow it,
nor plant a whole bed of it.
But nor would I yank it out.
It is not against me.
Perhaps the garden got bigger,
so much bigger that there
was more room for everything,
though I was not the one
who made it increase.
Perhaps it is that I can see
how much richer the soil is
with sorrow tilled in, too,
how now everything blooms
more beautifully, even all
those golds and purples
I would never have dreamed
of planting myself.

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The Pleasures of Flow

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , on October 9, 2012| 2 Comments »

The great gift, contrary to assumption,
is to disappear.

—Barry Spacks, The Pleasures of Flow

Like the scent of lemon
once intense in bare hands.
Like cottonwood leaves—
how they flee
first in heaps
and then one
by one
leaving empty
degrees of space.
Like the last note
of the solo cello
after the bow
has stilled.
Like stars
in the face
of one
great star
so close
to us.
Like
the taste
of a kiss
that persists
long after
the lips
are
gone.

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Of Leaves and Ideas

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , on October 3, 2012| 3 Comments »

so small
the weight
and yet
too much
to hold
and so
it falls
not that
it is
not lovely
not that
it is
not wanted
not that
we could
force the
liberation
just that
it is
time
for it
to fall

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The Precious Matter of Love

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , on September 30, 2012| 5 Comments »

Why just ask the donkey in me
to speak to the donkey in you
when I have so many other beautiful animals
and brilliant colored birds inside
all longing to say something
exciting and wonderful to your heart?
—Hafiz, “Why Just Ask the Donkey”

Dear, though I have come to you
as many other beautiful animals—
long-necked swan and Persian cat—

though I have worn for you
my most vermillion feathers and
sung to you with the voice of the bird

that always disappears before it can be named,
though I have come to you as lamb, as heron,
please, do not refuse my donkey.

Clumsy and stubborn, all tug and bray,
gray and dull and smelling of dung,
of course you would want to turn away.

But please, if you can, meet me this way,
when I am awkward and stepping
on my own feet, yours, too. Meet me

when I am unlovable and love me then.
Though I stink. Though I am not graceful
nor lovely nor easy nor strong. But here

I am, nuzzling your hand as it opens, aspiring to
be nowhere but here. Dear, we are nothing
but flesh for life to push through. I am done

hiding inside the bright wings, or even,
for that matter, beneath the dun hide.
Only a heart touches another heart.

Here is mine.

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How the Days Go

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on September 23, 2012| 2 Comments »

Looking in the rubble
one might wonder
what is left to break.
Such a dangerous thought.
There is always more.
And one part of me
says to the other,
Hush, don’t ask.
Don’t look. Things
are settling now.
Let’s talk about
something else.
And the other part
smiles, says
nothing, already
feeling the distant
tremor.

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Trying to Make Myself Relax

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , on September 13, 2012| 2 Comments »

It’s like trying
to fall asleep.
Nothing to be done
except lay there
and let sleep
come do the work.
But who wants
to hear that?
We want to know
what to do.
One tiny pill.
Ten easy steps.
Three simple tips.
But nothing to do?
Immediately
the mind says,
okay, I will
not try even harder.
This is when,
I would guess,
the soul is laughing
its best belly laugh, watching
the mind grasping
at how not to grasp.
But there is grace.
And there is exhaustion.
Both work in our favor.
Sometimes it happens,
I wear myself out,
and too tired to pull out
any more tricks,
I notice that I
have forgotten
to remember to
struggle, and how
easy it is then
to see god in everything,
even the anger,
even the clench,
forgetting even
to despise frustration,
forgetting even
not to try.

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