Posted in Uncategorized, tagged haiku, kiss, letting go, losing the self, mine, poem, possession, relaxing, sky, stars, uncertainty, unlearning, wind on February 4, 2012| 1 Comment »
That wind always tries
to undress me … today
it took my name, too.
*
It’s hard to be
serious when you’re kissing
my elbows.
*
What’s that? It’s only
supposed to have seventeen
syllables? But the sky today deserves at least twenty-five.
*
Erase the word mine
from these lips. Replace it with
nothing.
*
Tonight the stars
are just stars, the lines that link
them all undrawn.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged dreams, haiku, lily, losing the self, loss, meditation, moon, parenting, real, snow, stars, sufficient on January 17, 2012| 5 Comments »
blank field of snow
just after the blizzard
tracked up in minutes
*
driving sixty
while the tears on her cheeks
went eighty
*
these deep scars
I wish I could forget why
you can’t see them
*
even when I sit
very, very still, God sits
stiller
*
the trees pushing green
and in me a longing to
lose everything
*
even though I know
they won’t fit, I try them on
her mood rings
*
those gossamer dreams
when was it that they became
nooses?
*
all I want to know:
when I am with you, can I
be myself?
*
watching that star
I forget which of us
is moving
*
though all the petals
fell, the lily pistil still
dripping
*
come morning my hair
all tangled after a night
of tussling with words
*
no one says to
the lily, hey, one more petal
would look better
*
these haiku
perhaps I can scrawl them on
bits of DNA
*
more poem sprouts?
said the tears—but we just
started plowing
*
quarter moon
the boy says, it’s broken,
mommy fix it?
*
these dead willow sticks
beside me are so beautiful
I am beautiful
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged breathing, losing the self, Rumi on September 9, 2011| 3 Comments »
Oh Rumi, already
I have forgotten
your words from
this morning, I heard
them as though through
a hundred white veils.
It was something
about sweetness
and scattering, and
it feels like a loss
to not remember
exactly what was said.
Your words
were like, I don’t know,
a breeze moving over
my body, rearranging me
as if I were sand so
that what remains is
more art of the beloved and
something less of me.
Perhaps this is part
of the emptying—
letting go of words,
even lovely ones,
as the body releases
a breath. The lungs
do not lament the air
that so marvelously
filled them up.
How difficult I make it
sometimes. Like today,
for nearly an hour
I plum forgot to smile.
By grace I remembered
to soften the face
and let myself be smiled.
How wonderful it’s been
since then, the veils
rippling around me,
openings appearing
in the current of folds.