Posted in Uncategorized, tagged autumn, poem, poetry on September 28, 2014| 2 Comments »
night before the frost—
every vase in the house
rich with garden flowers
*
morning thunder—
only the most stubborn dreamers
still beneath the sheets
*
the last barefoot day—
spending it as if it were not
the last barefoot day
*
I sure do sing
a lot for someone who says
she loves silence
*
a slight bitterness
in autumn’s greens—that
is what honey is for
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged autumn, letting go, poem, poetry, Rumi on October 27, 2013| 4 Comments »
with a quote from “On Letting Go,” by Rumi, Ghazal (Ode) 323
Translation by Nader Khalili
They’re all brown now,
the leaves that last week
rained soft gold. Brown.
No, there is nothing soft
about the way they crunch
and crackle underneath my feet
as I weave inconsistent paths
around the park.
I find me wishing impossible things,
a longing for the way things were,
such soft gold leaves, the warmth, the light,
and feel some queer delight in wanting
the impossible. “Fall in love with the agony
of love,” says Rumi. “Not the ecstasy.”
He is circling on the merry go round,
his head flung back to the sky.
“Really,” I say.
“Yeah, really,” he says.
“Shit,” I say.
“Yeah,” he says. “I knew that’s what you’d say.”
Shit. I think to myself. He smiles.
The sky turns darker gray.
“But,” I say.
“Yeah,” says Rumi. “I knew you’d say that, too.”
Inside me, I notice something brown.
Something crackling toward dust.
“Okay,” I say.
“Okay,” he says.
And we say nothing for a long, long time.
The naked trees show no impatience.
The leaves show no remorse.
He offers me an empty swing.
I take it. I know this isn’t really flying.
But for a moment, I feel perhaps
what the leaves feel, the small thrill of falling,
the rush of what comes next as part of me
lets go, even as my hands grip
tighter on the chains.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged autumn, change, leaves, letting go, poem, poetry on October 21, 2013| 1 Comment »
Not only all around us
are the leaves letting go,
but inside us, too, so much
is falling. All those fluttersome
dreams we thought would last
forever. Imagine that. There
was a time we believed
that summer would never end.
We truly believed it. No one
could have convinced us then
of a thing called autumn.
And here it is. For hours
today I could have grieved
the leaves as they released—
gold and more gold and innumerable
shades of brown. But I did not.
Funny how the world goes on
despite all this falling. Funny
how beautiful it is to me now,
the empty branches, the adamant wind, the dank
scent of the world as it changes.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged autumn, birds, fall, poem, poetry on October 20, 2013| 1 Comment »
the bird inside me
migrated
I miss its song—
this morning was so quiet
watching frost melt
on the fallen leaves
*
did I, too, forget
how to sing?
did I also
fly away
from myself?
*
my hands
do not need to be asked—
they move unbidden
to touch the places
on my body
where the pain
unfolds
*
and here
and here
and here—
touch me here
and here
and here
*
what use is a tongue?
what use is song?
what use these hands?
what use silence?
*
who is the one
who thinks of the world
in terms of usefulness?
*
it was a long time
before I heard
the leaves had a song
of their own
but only
when
I moved
*
the nest
is still here
inside—when
you’re not looking
I fold up my
silence, my
hands, my
wants
and hide
*
is it
so wrong
sometimes
I pretend
I am
gone
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged autumn, found, loss, poetry, short poem on October 9, 2013| 1 Comment »
one cold night
everything gold
is brown
*
where, I say, is the bliss?
nowhere, says Ulli, until
it’s inside of you
*
lost: a car key,
a credit card, a friend’s coat,
my certainty
*
two untied balloons
one glorious
sky
*
humming a tune
about October, how it goes,
October goes
*
brown, brown, brown, brown, brown,
countless unnamed shades
of (oh!) brown
*
found: another question,
a car key, a credit card,
a friend’s coat, a loss
*
to the one missing it
that much sweeter
the scent of rain
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged autumn, loneliness, poem, poetry, raspberry on October 6, 2013| 2 Comments »
In early October, after the frost,
but before the long white weight of snow,
wade waist-deep in the raspberry thicket,
when the air is cold and the sun is low
and there is yet gold on the mesa’s hills,
all glitter and tremble and shine, and hiding
beneath the still green leaves are swollen red berries,
few enough that to find one feels like earning a prize,
but abundant enough to lure you deeper in,
despite the brambles, the snags on your sweater,
the scratches into your hands. There is no way
to be anywhere but here. The day moves no faster
than shadows can grow and hunger is a thing
that can be sated. The light meets you
exactly where you are and gives itself to you
and asks nothing in return.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged autumn, chaos theory, fractal, love, offering, poem, poetry on October 1, 2013| 9 Comments »
I want to toss golden leaves
at your feet, golden leaves
on your shoulders, golden leaves
in your opening hands. Gold in the wheat,
gold in the field, I want to spill
the rich amber into your thoughts. And this scent
of the world as it changes, this deep
sweet dusk of earth perfume,
I want to swirl it in eddies around you,
everywhere you walk. The luminous
red hue of the berry bush outside my window,
the bush I always notice but cannot name,
I want to give you the morning light
that gathers in its branches and makes
scarlet worship along the edges of the leaves.
The edges, love, that’s where
the meaning gathers. Like the Mandelbrot set or
the Koch Curve, what appears
to be a limited space or line contains
an infinite pattern that unfolds and unfolds
and unfolds. A never-ending story in finite time,
a boundary we can walk forever.
Perhaps love is like the edge of a leaf,
a fractal, beautiful in its immeasurable
breaking and endless remaking, beauty
far beyond what we see. But I digress.
I was giving you gold, remember,
and the loamy bouquet of change, and
and the ecstasy of sun in autumn,
and here, while we’re at it, the sky.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged autumn, emptiness, loss of self, poem, poetry, surrender on September 29, 2013| 5 Comments »
Gold, gold, gold, gone.
This is the season of surrender.
The time for release has come.
Aflame! Then emptiness.
It happens so fast.
I notice the no rising up
in my throat, and notice, too,
how it has no effect on what is.
How quickly the invitation to change
becomes the change.
Emptiness everywhere.
Again, I find myself
the student of yes.
I know I will learn
to find it beautiful, the emptiness.
Already, I feel it doing its slow
unselving work inside me.
Oh wind, do to me what you do
to the trees. Take me and shake me
and loosen my hold on whatever gold
I would grasp. Oh October, teach me
how this, too, is a beginning.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged autumn, forever, poem, poetry on September 26, 2013| 1 Comment »
blue
the
dome
and
gold
the
leaves
and
fierce
the
wind
that
stirs
the
trees
and
black
the
basil
stung
by
frost
limp
proof
forever
never
was
and
yet
forever
in
the
way
the
gold
leaks
into
all
that
changes
leaf
and
child
and
bliss
and
loss
the
arc
of
black
bird
thrill
enough
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged autumn, growing, love, poem, poetry on August 25, 2013| 1 Comment »
Already the feet of the rabbit are white.
The river runs low in its rocky bed.
And though the season for growing is done,
there is still much to be planted.
Some things, love, are better begun
when its darker and heading toward cold.
We will not see the flowers that grow
from these roots for a long, long time,
chance is never, I suppose. But that is no
reason not to put our hands in the dirt,
to sow and sow again. When we are quiet,
I hear the river crossing the stones. When we are quiet,
I swear I can almost hear the sound
of roots as they stretch toward a deeping dark.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged allowing, autumn, fall, freedom, letting go, poem, poetry 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
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged autumn, loss, love, poem, poetry, present moment, tanka on October 1, 2012| 1 Comment »
just before they are gone,
I treasure them most,
the aspen leaves—
please let us not
love like that
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged autumn, leaf, poem, praise, tanka on September 28, 2012| 3 Comments »
not that I don’t
admire the universe,
but today it’s enough
to marvel at just this one
leaf
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged autumn, cottonwood, emptiness, leaves, love, poem on September 27, 2012| 3 Comments »
It is good
to ache with love.
Tonight
the empty
cottonwood arms
let the moon
escape.
Earlier
they threw
all their leaves
and made a path
of gold.
I walk it
in the dark.
It is all
so beautiful,
so empty,
cold. I take
the long
way home.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged aspen, autumn, change, evolution, fall, poem, poetry, stillness on September 17, 2012| 5 Comments »
Just this morning
the leaves were green
in this stand of aspen
that now flash gold—
it happens that fast,
though of course
there is nothing
quick about it.
It took a whole season
to grow the leaf
and nurture it into
brilliance. And
it took decades
to grow the tree that grew
the leaf. And what
of evolution? Oh patience.
Perhaps this is why
on the woman who’s finally learning
how to sit still beside the leaves
there’s a bit of salt water
sliding down her skin.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged autumn, haiku, poem, unknowing on September 4, 2012| 2 Comments »
above the gorge
the autumn looks for us
finds only echoes
*
walking in the silence
beneath the river’s song
two hearts
*
unusually welcome
this field of noxious weeds
full bloom and white
*
birth me again, world,
birth me again—I think
I know too much
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged autumn, continuing, cycles, moon, poem, trust on November 13, 2011| 2 Comments »
Not one leaf left,
not one green thing.
Even the algal pools
beside the river
hinge toward brown.
The grass, brown.
The empty tomato vines,
brown. Even the bindweed
on the fence. Dead
and brittle and brown.
There is still a moon,
though, and it shines
when it isn’t in hiding.
Like tonight. The moon hasn’t yet risen
but I can look east
where it’s just as black
as the west, as the north and south,
and I know for certain
it’s not about prayer or hope,
it’s just a question of time.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged autumn, tanka on October 15, 2011| 2 Comments »
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged aspen, autumn, friendship, tanka on September 26, 2011| 1 Comment »
You tell me
a terrible story
and I tell you mine.
Driving home, the aspen
have never been so gold.
