Posted in Uncategorized, tagged movement, path, progress, thoughts, worm on August 25, 2020| 4 Comments »
Perhaps I am more like the earthworm
than I thought—
one part of me anchored in place
while the rest of me moves forward.
Every time I go, I also stay.
Every time I reach ahead, part of me holds on.
Over and over, I pull myself along.
What looks like progress is slow.
No path except the one I make
by letting the world move through me.
In order to proceed, I make of myself a wave.
In order to proceed, I must let go.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged frienship, hummingbird, love, positivity, thoughts on February 18, 2020| Leave a Comment »
for Colette
Beside my bed, she left
a beautiful beaded hummingbird
and a story about how the Mayans
believe that these birds will transport
all of our good wishes and desires
to another. Tonight, there is no one
I wouldn’t send this bird to—
not just to my loved ones,
but to my unloved ones, the ones
I would rather forget, the ones
I would rather ignore. Oh little bird,
with your bright body and shining wings,
let’s get to work. Let’s send out
extraordinary beauty tonight,
extraordinary love.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged beauty, poem, poetry, thoughts, weeds on July 30, 2019| 2 Comments »
in my thoughts
a tap-rooted weed
sometimes I notice
its beautiful pink blooms
before I pull it again
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged icicle, poem, poetry, thinking, thoughts, winter on March 17, 2019| Leave a Comment »
It is the child of cold and warmth.
It is right it should show up
both cloudy and clear,
this union of opposites,
shaped like a spear, piercing
the silence with dripping, dripping.
It forms itself
the same way it disappears.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged clarity, poem, poetry, snow, thoughts, winter on February 25, 2019| Leave a Comment »
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged hope, poem, poetry, shoveling, snow, thoughts on December 27, 2018| 6 Comments »
It’s not so much that you want the snow
back in the drive, it’s just that your back
felt so much better before the shoveling,
and so, using your sideways logic, you think
to yourself that if the snow were unshoveled
your back might unhurt. And while
you’re at it, you think you might unthink
those thoughts you thought the night before
shoveling the drive. Though they didn’t
amount to any action, now that you’ve
thought them they’ve become a frame
that’s changed everything. So you start
with the snow, because revising that seems easier
than anything else, but to shovel it back
in the drive would seem to exacerbate
the problem with the back, so
you consider ways the snow might unfall,
all of them fanciful. At least for a while,
it amuses you, the idea of ten million
million snowflakes rising, but then
the reality of drought returns and you
feel guilty for unwishing the snow. No,
better to put your hope in perseverance,
better to put your hope in healing.
It happens. And you walk up the drive,
so snowless and clear you can safely look up
at the sky and see all those stars. The snow
gathers whatever light there is. It can’t
unshine. You thrill a bit in the chill. Some
of the shine reaches into you. Some of it stays.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged beets, poem, poetry, thoughts, transformation on September 3, 2018| Leave a Comment »
Slow roasted,
the beets
become tender,
sweet,
how I long
to do the same
to these hard,
red thoughts.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged poem, poetry, thoughts on June 23, 2018| Leave a Comment »
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged poem, poetry, river, stone, thoughts, transformation on March 25, 2018| Leave a Comment »
the rocks move
more than we think they do—
after the ice floes,
the mudslides, high water in spring
take note, you stone-like thoughts
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged garden, poem, poetry, thoughts, weed on June 20, 2016| 1 Comment »
Pulling tall grass
from amidst the peonies
it’s hard not to admire
the tenaciousness
of grass, admire it
as I rip it out, every
last blade.
