The river in autumn
is clear enough
to see the trout
who swim
in the deeper pools.
There are many ways
to speak.
This is one.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged autumn, communication, river, speaking, student on October 15, 2020| Leave a Comment »
The river in autumn
is clear enough
to see the trout
who swim
in the deeper pools.
There are many ways
to speak.
This is one.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged apology, communication, pause, silence on August 13, 2020| 6 Comments »
A rumor platoon.
A secret room.
A flying trapeze.
The honeyed moon.
A grapefruit pucker.
A slick river otter.
A compound fracture
and a safety measure.
The carrot peeler
and the apple tree,
the truth, the lie,
the apology.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged communication, Corona Virus, friendship, love on March 22, 2020| 14 Comments »

Just two weeks ago, it was sufficient
to say, hello, good morning, good bye.
But now, in every text, every email,
every phone call, I tell my friends
and family how much I love them.
I tell them life is better because
they are in it. I say it with the urgency
of a woman who knows she could die,
who knows this communication could be our last.
I slip bouquets into my voice. I weave love songs
into the spaces between words.
I infuse every letter, every comma, with prayers.
Sometimes it makes me cry, not
out of fear, but because the love is so strong.
How humbling to feel it undiluted,
shining, like rocks in the desert after a rain,
to know love as the most important thing,
to remember this as I keep on living.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged communication, language, plant, poem, poetry, speaking, tree on January 2, 2020| 4 Comments »
For last year’s words belong to last year’s language
And next year’s words await another voice.
—T.S. Eliot, “Little Gidding”
So let me speak this year in leaf,
and let me speak in stem.
Give me photosynthetic nouns
and algal interjections.
Let my syntax be made of phloem,
let my phonemes be blades of grass.
May all my conjunctions produce oxygen
may my prepositions be moss.
And let me mostly listen
with ears attuned to soil and root
And when I have words, let them be living,
may only the kindest words bear fruit.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged communication, erik satie, poem, poetry, relationship, speech on September 3, 2019| Leave a Comment »
inspired by Erik Satie, Gnossienne 1
same phrases, same sighs,
we’ve said them, sighed them before—
and each time the chance
to find (mid-syllable) a door, a new wildflower,
a raincoat, blue, perhaps a wing
(to hear the music, click here. This direction is given when the initial theme is repeated)
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged clarity, communication, poem, poetry on August 7, 2019| Leave a Comment »
dang, how the songbird
mutters sometimes, and slurs,
forgets how even the most
discordant song can be beautiful
when it’s sung clear
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged cliche, communication, poem, poetry on July 31, 2019| Leave a Comment »
the elephant in the room—
giving him
the finest seat
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged communication, communion, gratitude, poem, poetry, translation on May 19, 2019| 3 Comments »
Once I would say “table,” and mean
“table.” Once, I would say
“broccoli” and mean “broccoli.”
I would say “stone” and mean
“stone.” I really did believe
that things were separate.
And nameable. Now,
every word that comes
out of my mouth, no matter
how many syllables, no matter
the tone of voice, no matter
my intention, I’ve come to understand
that every word
is really just a translation
for thank you,
thank you for this moment.
And every silence between the words,
regardless how brief,
is really just the sound
of one hand in gratitude clapping.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged college, communication, poem, poetry on April 26, 2019| Leave a Comment »
Years later I wake in the night and remember
the way he banged on my bedroom door.
He was drunk and he begged me to let him in.
I was in my dorm room bed, and my best friend
was visiting. The interruption angered her
and she hissed in the dark, Don’t you dare.
I told him to go away. He didn’t.
He pounded and begged and shouted.
Please, he said, before I heard him crumple
at the base of the door where I believe
he fell asleep. By morning, he was gone.
It wasn’t only my door I had closed,
it was my heart. I didn’t understand then
that I was too frightened to let him in.
I didn’t comprehend how our fear
makes us small. Years later, I want
to open the door. I want to meet him
before the drunken night and tell him, I hear you.
I want to thank him for bringing me his heart.
I want to tell myself, You are capable
of sharing difficult feelings. I want
to write a new night and walk with him
through the dark, the only pounding
our fragile hearts.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged communication, compassion, other, poem, poetry, stories on January 27, 2019| 3 Comments »
that everyone, even the driver in the white jeep
who cut in front of you, yes, even
the elegant woman in the dairy aisle and
the man who seems lost on the library steps
and the child sitting alone on the bench, yes
everyone has a story—fears and hopes
and something to learn and someone they love
and someone who’s hurt them and someone
they long to hold. And though their stories
are mostly invisible, they’re always
more complex than whatever we project
and they’re every bit as real as our own.
The woman in the dairy aisle smiles at you,
and though she is wearing diamonds in her ears,
she looks lonely. Or is it you, who is lonely?
Is it all of us? All of us longing for someone
to truly see us. And that driver you’re cursing,
don’t we all sometimes feel as if we need
to move forward any way we can? And that
boy on the bench, notice the empty seat beside him?
Perhaps you could sit there, too, in the sun.
Who knows what might happen next?