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Posts Tagged ‘life’

One Example

 

 

 

the candle runs out—

knowing this, the wick

burns no less bright

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In the Garden

 

 

 

I apologize

as I squish

the green worm

that’s been feasting

on the basil leaf.

It does not change

the fact that the worm

is dead. And the basil

now will live.

 

Yesterday, my friend Carl

stopped me on the street

and wondered aloud

how we die

to the moment,

then greet the next.

He did not,

of course mean

a literal death.

 

The basil leaf

has a hole in it now

where the green worm

is not. I pick it

and eat it myself,

not out of spite,

perhaps

to feel how the worm

and I are not

after all

so different.

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then I guess it’s fair to say

that today, we walked on water—

how easy it is to not notice

how our every step

is miracle

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Day of the Dead

it’s a miracle, I tell you

—Laura Kasischke, “Near Misses”

 

It’s a miracle, I tell you,

that I am here to make the breakfast

and spread the jelly

on the stale bagel,

a miracle for me to walk

down the icy street

in these scuffed up boots

with these scuffed up feet

and my scuffed up dreams

and my scuffed up love,

a miracle to wander through

the smear of the days,

the spill of the years,

my cells slowing down,

my candles blown out

and relit and blown out

and relit again,

yes a miracle, not just

biology, to feel it so profoundly,

this gratitude that I might stumble

and stride through the world,

a little hum finding my lips

as one foot falls again

in front of the other,

and is lifted, then falls,

and is lifted again.

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Rewrite the first chapter,

the one in which someone else

starts to tell your story.

Notice how when you erase it,

all the chapters after it

go blank. Fields of blank pages.

Skies of blank pages. Blank minutes,

blank days, blank years. Listen

for what’s left of your story—

nothing. Miss your friends.

Miss your mom. Miss your old house

and your problems. Go back

to chapter one. Rewrite it exactly

as it was written, but keep

the pen in your hand. You want

to be in charge of the story

from here on in.

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One

 

 

 

carcass on the trail

the ribcage emptied, still red—

my own heart beating

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Four Circlings

 

 

 

this gray afternoon

we walked circles around death—

the sun came out

 

*

 

be brave, I tell myself

until the only voice I hear—

be true

 

 

*

 

on the wrist

of the man with hours to live

the watch tells perfect time

 

*

 

make of my body

a bridge, now to now,

love to love, life to life

 

 

 

 

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