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Posts Tagged ‘possibility’

On a Night When You Feel Far Away

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on March 28, 2015| 2 Comments »

I would like to find you
in the shade of an apricot tree
with rounded white petals
caught in your hair
and the hypnotic humming
of bees in our ears,
and we would lie there
draped in the scent
of warm sage and sweet bloom
and stare up at the blue
through the flowering limbs
and forget who we are
for just long enough, perhaps,
that anything could happen.

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But I Can Taste It

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on March 13, 2015| 1 Comment »

in the night air
scent of rain
that does not fall—
sometimes in the kitchen
scent of tenderness

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How You Might Approach a Day

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on January 28, 2015| 3 Comments »

after Wendy Videlock

Like an empty bowl,
like a submarine,
like a mirror, like a tooth,
like a tambourine,
like a pen or a puddle,
or a maker of hay,
like a rusty machine,
like a fiancé,
or as if you speak
in eddies of river,
or as if you’re an arrow
just pulled from the quiver;
like shoes without laces
thrown into the corner,
like rain, like a scalpel,
like a barbed wire border,
like a guillotine,
like witch hazel blooms,
like a horse, like blue,
like an unsung tune,
like a poem that doesn’t
know how it will end,
like a leap or a stone,
like an open hand.

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You Never Know What Might Happen at City Market

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on May 26, 2014| 1 Comment »

From across the parking lot
on an early spring afternoon
you see a yellow butterfly

just before it disappears
behind the roof of the grocery store
and I am certain no scientist

could ever prove this, but
in that moment on the pavement
in the swirling chill of breeze

you are somehow saved, though you don’t
have a hint what that might mean, except
that it feels like, at least for that instant,

everything is possible.

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Classified

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , on February 8, 2014| 3 Comments »

sometimes it's clear

Lost: One woman, fortyish,
brown hair, tall, hazel eyes,
wearing black boots, jeans,
maroon sweater. Last seen
walking toward the edge of
what she thought was
possible. Can be identified
by a freckle on her left
pinkie finger. If seen,
ask her if she found the edge.
If she says yes, tell her to go
get lost again. That any edge
she can find is an illusion.
Tell here there is no
reward for her return.

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In the Middle of the Storm

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on November 5, 2013| 3 Comments »

Walking through the field
the snow fills in the trail ahead.
It’s a vanishing path,
it’s vertigo,
and now, love, imagine,
without a set route
there is nowhere
we can’t go.

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Bet God Is Laughing Tanka

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on October 19, 2012| 2 Comments »

strange, even after
the door disappeared, jamb, too
I still stand
in the middle of openness
hands clasped around a knob

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Driving to Denver on I-70 Haiku

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on September 6, 2012| 2 Comments »

no wrong turns today
so many possibilities
I never knew

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how things change tanka

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on August 18, 2012| 3 Comments »

not right away
but at some point
it happened,
this barren, sterile field
began, so many shades, to bloom

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Lullaby for Vivian Rose as she Turns Four

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on July 14, 2012| 3 Comments »


If I lay here, if I just lay here, will you lay with me and just forget the world.
—Snow Patrol

Like sipping the stars in water,
like hearing the sun in the stone
all the impossibles, all the fantastic
notions are possible now.

Like drinking gray sky in big gulps.
Like song spiraling out of bent wheat
there is improbable joy, my love,
in the imperfect, marred, defeated.

There are shoulds, my dear, and mustn’ts
there are cages we think are ourselves,
but night is here and soon there will be
nothing we can’t have.

But it’s not about the having
not even about the dream.
it’s about, well, darling, I don’t know.
Let’s close our eyes and see.

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I Used to Think Talking Was the Only Answer

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , on March 12, 2012| 5 Comments »

In silence
everything
is possible.

Our words,
enwombed,
could become

honey,
could sprout wings,
or (imagine)

could shape themselves
as just the right words
that fall out at just

the right time.

Or, perhaps,
it’s that silence
does the work

that words
can’t do,
linking us

to nothing,
which is
everything.

I give you
silence.

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Blink

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on February 10, 2012| 3 Comments »

By accident she snipped
the amaryllis stalk

still crowned with buds
red and unopened—it happens,

it happens like this,
these moments in which

we do what we never
believe we would do—

what were we thinking?
scissors in one hand,

and all that is no more possible
in the other.

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