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A Poetry Video! I love this project–poets writing about land conservation. I was one of many poets who contributed to a beautiful book, Writing the Land: Currents, giving voice to 22 lands from across the country. I wrote for the Colorado Land Trust about the Potter Ranch located between Ridgway and Ouray in southwest Colorado. Thanks to Lis McLoughlin for her amazing poet-wrangling skills and to Elizabeth MacLeod Burton-Crow for her skills putting together this video of me reading on the land. If you, too, feel strongly about exploring our relationship with the land we live on and land conservation, check out the book and the project.

At the Potter Ranch

with thanks to Mike Potter, Ridgway, Colorado

On a day when the human world feels like a fist—
when it clenches and squeezes,
fierce and relentless—
I leave the four walls and sit
on an old fallen cottonwood tree,
long and silver and smooth.
There, in the center of a wide river valley,
I sit. And sit. And sit.
And the tall green grasses
and the graceful white yarrow don’t refuse me.
And the murmur of waves
and the musk-yellow scent of sweet clover
replace any thoughts, save being here.
The ring of red mesas
with their vast crowns of spruce
form a vase great enough to hold it all—
and I am gathered into spaciousness
along with dark green sedges and white butterflies,
with the tantrums of brambles
and the tangled flight patterns
of thousands on thousands of dark tiny flies.
A flock of birds rise all at once from the river
and my heart and my eyes rise, too.
A long time passes before I am quiet enough
to hear the chorus in the willows,
the bright clicking of insect wings,
the silence that weaves through everything.
Then the flickers come close
and the dragonflies draw nearer in.
And I current. I cloud. I leaf. I wing.
I leave unwalled, un-selved.
The spaciousness comes with me.

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Hello Friends,

If you were unable to join us live for our April 3, 2020, reading, you can catch me and my friend Albert Flynn DeSilver doing a special online reading … about an hour long total. We each read for 15 minutes at the beginning, then open it up for a discussion based on viewer comments about the role of poetry in our lives right now.

I read exclusively poems written in the last three weeks–all of them found here on A Hundred Falling Veils–all of them speaking to the world we are in right now.

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this heavy shell
I sometimes forget it, too
is holy

*

your eyes
everywhere I look
your eyes

*

god needed a flute
tried blowing into me—no note
still too much of me here

*

it sure does make
a lousy guard dog
pride

*

every pore, every
bone, every hair, every cell
an altar

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Tired and cold
she came to a clearing
beside the river
and set herself down.
There, the moon.
The moon.

*

Not once had she dreamed
to bring the moon any closer.
Not once had she wished
it would move any faster.

*

How to stay in this place
of not wanting
not needing
not wishing
not hoping
not reaching, not knowing.

*

At the edge of whatever
she thought she knew
she leaned
until the only thing
touching her
was nothing.

*

Sometimes a story
ends. Sometimes it
plays again. Sometimes
we see through a story
to see ourselves.

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