ransacking the stars—
surely some of that shine
will stick to me?
Posts Tagged ‘exhaustion’
One Lackluster
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged exhaustion on June 22, 2022| 4 Comments »
One Interminable
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged day, exhaustion on June 26, 2021| Leave a Comment »
this day—a sentence
that cannot seem to find
its period
Gravity
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged accomplishments, depression, exhaustion, shoulds, survival on September 1, 2020| 6 Comments »
Today it is enough
to pour the orange juice.
To push down the lever
on the toaster.
To feed the fish and the kids
and water the orchid
and return one call.
A woman could be buried
by all the things
she thinks she should do.
It might take her years
to crawl out from beneath that weight.
And so today
I find refuge in the fact
that I made the bed.
That I was a lap
for a cat.
That I caught a mouse
in the carrot row
and I let him go.
One Exhaustion
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged exhaustion, illusion, race, running on August 26, 2020| Leave a Comment »
running and running
but the finish line keeps moving
until at last
the wise voice asks
are you sure this is a race?
Necessary Respite
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged exhaustion, love, self love on February 23, 2020| 7 Comments »
Just today I did not fall in love with the long hallway,
or the faithful radiator or the steadfast brick.
I did not fall in love with a calculator or
with lavender soap. I certainly
did not fall for a loyal wooden ladder,
not for a mirror, not for the underappreciated spider,
not for a door, no matter how open it was.
So many chances, lost. So many invitations unanswered.
There are days when the heart forgets its work—
not out of maliciousness, more perhaps, because
it is tired. These are the days when I hope
that I will remember to sit quietly until
once again the heart finds the energy to love itself.
Then it is only a matter of time before it loves again
the red thread, the socks, the chipped blue cup.
Why Sometimes It’s Best to Pretend You’re Not Home
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged exhaustion, opportunity, poem, poetry on February 4, 2019| 6 Comments »
They say opportunity knocks, but then
once it’s in, I’ve seen it punch. Explode.
Manhandle. Demand. Require. Kick.
Throttle. Strangle. Rebuke. Erode.
If only it only knocked, perhaps
I’d be more inclined to answer the door,
but sometimes, once in, it takes all you have,
and then, when you’re spent, it takes more.
*Dear Readers … this is just to say that this is NOT the poem I thought I was sitting down to write, but this is the poem that showed up. And any of you who have taken a class with me know that I am a big fan of the dictum of Jack Mueller, Obey the poem’s emerging form. So I did. I think I almost scared myself with this poem. Enough that I thought twice about sending it out. But here it is …
When My Daughter Asks Me What Is Newton’s First Law of Motion
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged exhaustion, Law of motion, Newton, parenting, physics, poem, poetry on October 4, 2018| 4 Comments »
And though I can’t remember
what I wrote last night, which seems
like ten years ago, I rattle off,
a body at rest remains at rest and
a body in motion remains in motion
until acted upon by an external force,
and then, mid-sentence, I have some small
fantasy about being a body at rest,
a body at rest that stays at rest, a body
at rest that is somehow entirely unacted upon,
not by breakfast, not by school, not by work,
not by mewling cats or errant bears
traversing the porch, not by nightmares
nor bladder nor hot flash nor chill,
and I think to myself that Newton
was really, really on to something,
some sweet world he posits
that I now long for, a world
where a woman might find
such rest, might be such a body.
One Trip
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged exhaustion, poem, poetry on November 20, 2016| 4 Comments »
But I’m Tired
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged exhaustion, poem, poetry, tired on August 25, 2014| 2 Comments »
If I weren’t so tired, I’d get out there in that garden
and grow some green beans, stringless and tender
and fleshy. I’d grow some grapes, then peel them
and pass them out to all my friends.
If I weren’t so tired, I’d plant some garlic for my mom.
I’d bake gingerbread men. Houses, too.
And then I would scamper up a mountain
the way goats do, and I’d do all that before noon.
If I weren’t so tired, I’d introduce a goldfish
to a gorilla, and then write a play based on
what they’d say to each other. I’d laminate maps
for migrating geese they could wear around their necks.
Yeah, I think I’d go to the tropics and pick up
all the old tails that geckos had lost and return them
to their owners. And I’d make special pillows
for baby giraffes to land on when they’re born.
So much to do, I’ve got grasshopper mind, jumping
and leaping all the time—from how I might help
the glaciers grow to how I might make the galaxy go
just a little bit slower so that there’s more time
for us all to sleep so we’re not always too tired
to do all the things we want to do. Like grow
some grapes, and peel them, too, then offer them
to good friends like you. Or just wash the dishes,
Or get dressed, make the bed. I would, you know, if …
*This is a G-poem for Lian Canty’s Alphabet Menagerie, http://www.alphabetmenagerie.com
Learning More About Fly and Scatter (OR Four Reasons Why I Have Started to Take Naps)
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged acupuncture, exhaustion, fly and scatter, poem, poetry on May 7, 2014| 3 Comments »
with thanks to Heather
swimming in this sea
of kindness and generosity
how is it
I sometimes do not notice
I am wet?
*
ten thousands droplets
escape the pond
in every direction
each time
I throw another stone
*
oh body, my vessel,
my vase, my cup,
I am sorry I spill you,
don’t fill you
enough
*
by the pond
the cranes forget
to fly away—
I choose not to throw stones
they choose to stay