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Posts Tagged ‘sky’

There Is A Road Inside Me



I remember the day I stopped
believing that. Then everything
was sky.

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One Practice

said the fallen woman
to the indifferent sky
I am still learning to fly

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One Expanding Awe


                  for Vivian
 
 
when she can’t stop
falling in love with the blush of sky
I can’t stop falling in love with her

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One Immensity


shrugging out of certainty
like a dress shirt too snug—
the sky fits just right

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                  for Holiday, in the James Turrell Skyspace at Cheekwood Gardens
 
 
Each moment of the day
a song is looking for its singer—
song before the eyelids rise,
song of hunger, song of dream,
song of waiting for the phone to ring,
song of groping in the dark,
song of walking through the garden,
song of trying on silver hats,
song of seeing the city’s edge.
And still so often we miss the song,
but today when Holiday
opened her mouth and began
to sing of cumulonimbus,
her clear tune spiraled through the small
white room with such astonishing
rightness I brimmed with gold
and cloud and kin,
her bright-winged notes soaring
in my body like a murmuration,
and I opened like dawn, like sky,
as if when one person dares
to be found by the song of the moment
and sing it true, they teach
the rest of us how to do it, too,
how to sing, sing wild, sing
ourselves alive, as if
it’s what we’re here to do.

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One Big Perspective

a day so blue
even my greatest fears
are dissolved into sky

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Everywhere I turn,
the measureless sky,
wild open sky,
deep bluing,
unencumbered sky,
and how is it
it enters me
and fills my lungs
with vastness,
steeps my mind
in spaciousness,
slips immensity
into my cells,
and I, who
have been stone,
who thought I knew
something of
what a life is,
I feel myself dissolve
into blue
as if it’s the only
thing I could do.
When I leave,
the blue comes
with me.

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One Inspiration




white clouds blown by wind
losing shape to become one with blue—
what a soul can do

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One Attempt



 
 
like trying to contain the sky
in the word blue—
saying I miss you

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Let’s say there’s a window
at the end of a long dark hall—
the more we walk toward it
the farther away it feels.
And then, let’s say, we stop
trying to get anywhere and meet
where we are. That is how
I found myself on the other side
of the window, released
into sky—blue sky, then tangerine
sky, then sky dusky pink.
That is how I found myself
talking with my son the way
we used to whenever he went
to camp—through the sky.
Only this time we didn’t talk.
We just were. Together.
I would say we were fused,
but more truly, perhaps, commingled,
as if our atoms were diffused enough
to commune. To know this
for a moment is to know it
forever—how it is that
there is no separation.
How it is that we are one.

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