Posted in Uncategorized, tagged friendship, love, poem, poetry on January 13, 2019| 4 Comments »
It’s like just happening
to find in the drawer
the tiny screw that fits
in my glasses so the lens
won’t fall out, yes,
the fact that any of us
find each other and
happen to fit
into each other’s lives
at all seems shocking
when the drawer’s so big,
and after the discovery
so beautiful, so strange
how we never again
see the world
quite the same.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged door, love, opposition, poem, poetry on January 11, 2019| Leave a Comment »
we become what we love and yet remain ourselves.
—Martin Heidegger
and this is how
the vessel learns
that though it’s full
there’s room for more—
those sides of us
we thought were walls
were well concealed
doors
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged love, poem, poetry, possibility on January 10, 2019| 1 Comment »
because when the wise old man said
that the loving itself
was all that mattered—
somehow, for that moment,
while his suggestion still hung
like perfume in the air,
all the stubborn queries
of how and why and when
that usually knock and crack
and rap and ring, they all laid down
to take a nap,
and in that fragrant silence,
what rose was the most
beautiful tenderness,
a shining faith,
how improbably it opened
like a stone turned iris,
like a bone blooming
into spring.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged Christmas, gift, love, poem, poetry on December 25, 2018| Leave a Comment »
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged Art Goodtimes, friendship, love, mentor, poem, poetry on December 6, 2018| Leave a Comment »
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged heart, love, o'keefe, perception, poem, poetry on November 18, 2018| 4 Comments »
Besides learning to see, there is another art to be learned, — not to see what is not.
—Maria Mitchell, pioneering astronomer
Give me eyes that see only what is,
eyes not fooled by veils, by scars.
Give me ears that hear only the words that are said,
ears that clearly translate silence.
But give me a heart that feels into
what is possible, a heart that believes
in goodness, despite reports
from ears, from eyes. Give
me a heart that speaks only love,
that leans toward kindness, that opens
again and again like an O’Keefe petunia—
larger than anticipated, mind stopping,
soul rousing, haloed by wonder
and wholly true to itself.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged canyon, change, love, poem, poetry, river on November 15, 2018| Leave a Comment »
ever conversing
the canyon and river—
one carves,
one contains,
one sings,
one resonates,
summer, winter,
sun, rain,
both endure
both change
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged autumn, friendship, giving, leaves, love, poem, poetry on November 5, 2018| 7 Comments »
I watched it happen, the confrontation.
The one who was hurt and the one
with no inkling that harm had been done,
and my heart ached for both of them—
for all of us really—all of us fragile, all of us
witless, all of us longing to love, to be loved
for being ourselves.
Outside the window, the leaves
were brilliantly dying, burning auburn,
vermillion, a heart swelling show
of what it is we’ve come here to do—
to give our all and give some more,
to do it unreservedly.
It’s all a series of repetition, design—
the leaves, the fall, the hurt, the blame,
the confusion, the reconciliation.
It’s all a matter of pattern and letting
go, letting go of whatever we think we know
about how to give.
What I’m trying to say is if I have hurt you,
I’m sorry. I don’t understand my own thorns.
I think I am singing and it comes out crooked.
I think I’m supporting and it comes out cage.
There are so many mistakes in my blood,
all of them believing they’re butterflies.
My friend tells me the leaves in fall
are returning to their true colors—
how the necessary chlorophyll disguises
what’s really inside.
What I’m trying to say is look at the leaves
outside the window, see how vibrant they are?
I am trying to love like that,
every day, the colors more true.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged love, poem, poetry, self acceptance, teenager on November 4, 2018| 2 Comments »
I was fourteen, Richard was eighteen,
and he was Romeo in the high school play.
He was Romeo and I was chorus, and
every song I sang, I sang for him.
Every song I sang, a love song.
I had never been taught any other,
I had never been taught to be hard,
I longed to give him everything,
I longed for him to want to kiss me,
to give me everything, and when
he kissed me, which he did, he gave
me mono. I was somehow proud,
was proud of getting sick because
he kissed me, as if it were a badge
that I was worthy of being kissed,
kissed by Richard, Richard Smith, who left me
shortly after, who left me crumpled, weeping
in the green cement block halls,
halls that rang back all my emptiness.
I didn’t know then love could end.
I was a girl who knew only beginnings,
a girl who trusted in happily evers,
a girl who wanted to be chosen. Years later
I’d learn there are many kinds of love,
how all of them depend on one thing.
Years later I’d learn to choose myself,
to show up at my own balcony,
roses and poems in hand.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged horse, love, poem, poetry on October 16, 2018| Leave a Comment »
