Posted in Uncategorized, tagged bear, dream, fear, marriage, poem, poetry on July 1, 2015| 2 Comments »
Beneath our boat
a swimming bear—
I tell myself to be afraid
but I’m too delighted
by its brown body,
elongated and sleek
moving like a wave itself
in the clear, clear water.
A marriage, too,
is a boat. Or is it
the bear?
Or is it the man
and the woman
in the boat,
watching beneath them
the most exquisite
dangerous thing,
something that could kill them
but chooses instead
grace.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged dream, intimidation, poem, reality, security on May 17, 2015| 2 Comments »
In the dream, it was a man.
He pretended it was an embrace,
squeezing me as he did.
Getting dressed this morning,
still feeling the places he crushed
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged dream, lullaby, poem, possibility, potential on July 14, 2012| 3 Comments »
If I lay here, if I just lay here, will you lay with me and just forget the world.
—Snow Patrol
Like sipping the stars in water,
like hearing the sun in the stone
all the impossibles, all the fantastic
notions are possible now.
Like drinking gray sky in big gulps.
Like song spiraling out of bent wheat
there is improbable joy, my love,
in the imperfect, marred, defeated.
There are shoulds, my dear, and mustn’ts
there are cages we think are ourselves,
but night is here and soon there will be
nothing we can’t have.
But it’s not about the having
not even about the dream.
it’s about, well, darling, I don’t know.
Let’s close our eyes and see.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged acceptance, dream, falling, grace, poems, poetry on April 20, 2012| 3 Comments »
There is the moment
just before you fall
when you know
there is nothing left
to do except
to fall, to fall,
to fall and say yes
to the falling, to fall
and feel yourself
as you fall, how the stomach
rises where the throat
has been, it’s silent,
then—and it’s fast,
you think, so fast,
you are falling and not
a damn thing to be done
except to fall, to notice
the air rush over the skin,
yes nothing to do but
to fall, to keep falling,
to fall.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged attention, bald eagle, dream, haiku, poem, singing, story, what lingers on January 22, 2012| 3 Comments »
That bald eagle
flies this canyon every day
today I saw him
*
all day I try
to scrape it off my skin
that bad dream
*
long after you leave
the chairs remain hushed so to
better hear you sing
*
every story
I’ve ever had
the end