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Posts Tagged ‘compassion’

One

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on June 18, 2013| 2 Comments »

watching you weep
I weep, they are sweet, your tears
in my eyes

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Confession

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on May 16, 2013| 7 Comments »

I bet you would never guess
how nervous I was to call you.

I bet you’d be surprised
to know the size of the gap

I imagined between us—
whole oceans could be swallowed

in there. You with your easy laugh.
You with all your friends. Surely

you have all those friends in part
because you are friendly.

But I was scared. Scared
I was not enough—

not smart enough, not cool
enough, not funny enough,

not strong enough, not self
sufficient enough to be your friend.

Oh that insecure part of me,
I know it does no good to judge her.

So I look at the insecure me,
and I look at the me

who would judge her,
and I get to look at the me

who can love her
and all of us get in the car together

and drive to your house
to drink coffee and talk

and do what friends do—
jump in the gap

and swim.

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Seymour Avenue

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on May 9, 2013| 2 Comments »

All day I imagine
how it could be me,
could be you, it is her
on that street, in that car,
in the chains, in the window.
All day I break down
the door. All day
I turn toward love.
It is not hard to find love,
but it is not easy
to be joyful in it.
We are so alone
together.
All day I break.
The door
is still not open
enough.

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But Something Stays

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on March 15, 2013| 1 Comment »

Selenium

All those worries
with their ragged edges,

all those nights
tossing in their beds,

the fevers, the shivers,
the dreams torn,

the falling, the jammed flow,
the empty bowl,

I would soften the world
if I could for you,

But it softens us,
over and over,

turning us, tumbling us,
scraping away

the layers,
even the one

our names on it,
even the one

we thought
we could never

do without.

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At the Poetry Reading Tanka

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , on July 13, 2012| 3 Comments »

for Valerie

implausibly balanced
on strappy bright pink heels,
the poem shows its scars—
I long to touch them gingerly
but they touch me

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