Yesterday, I spoke with KSJD radio in a 10-minute interview about how poems–both writing and reading them–might help us navigate uncertain times. You can listen to the interview here.
Posts Tagged ‘uncertainty’
How Can Poetry Relate to Reality?
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged paradox, poetry, Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer, uncertainty on January 21, 2017| 4 Comments »
One Curiosity
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged heart, poem, poetry, uncertainty on October 20, 2016| 1 Comment »
eavesdropping on my own heart
wishing I could understand the whispers—
rustle of golden leaves
Note to Self Above the Paradox Valley
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged poem, poetry, timing, trust, uncertainty on October 4, 2016| 9 Comments »
after Ocean Vuong, “Someday I’ll Love Ocean Vuong”
You do not need to know what comes next.
There is always another storm, and you
cannot hang the tent out to dry before
it has gotten wet. You cannot shovel snow
that has yet to fall.
Put down the shovel. Breathe
into the dark spaces of your back,
feel how they open like cave doors
to let in the light.
Let your face soften. Let the creases
fall out of your brow. The mind,
no matter how clear, will never become
a crystal ball.
The wisest part of your body
knows to run when it hears
the first crashes of rock fall.
It does not pause then to consider
metamorphic or igneous,
nor does it hesitate to wonder
what might have pushed them down.
It is no small thing to trust yourself.
It’s okay to cry. It is right
that love should shake your body,
that you should find yourself trembling
in the rubble and dust
after all your certainties come down.
Your breath has not left you.
Here is the morning rain. It opens
the scent of the leaves, of the air.
All around you the world is changing.
What are you waiting for?
Here is the cup of mint tea
growing stronger in itself.
Here on this cliff of uncertainty
there is a stillness in you
so spirited, so alive
the wisest part of your body
is dancing.
Short Letter
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged poem, poetry, uncertainty on October 3, 2016| 2 Comments »
Uncertainty,
help me remember
you always come
with chocolate in your pockets,
sometimes even
the kind I like.
One Definition of Faith
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged faith, love, poem, poetry, uncertainty on February 15, 2016| 1 Comment »
toeing the edge
of everything
we think we know
building a nest for us
on the other side
While Walking in From the Car
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged miracle, opening, poem, poetry, uncertainty, universe on August 25, 2014| 2 Comments »
Not even a gust
tonight
and for no
apparent reason
the heart
blows open
and just
like that
innumerable stars
rush in
not to mention
all the space
between them
of course it’s
miraculous,
and on the other,
well, after marveling
there’s nothing to do
but invite the universe
in for a cup
of decaf chai
then tuck us
all in
for a good night’s
rest
who knows
what could happen
tomorrow.
What the Guidebook Can’t Tell You
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged naming, poem, poetry, uncertainty, unlearning, wildflower on June 28, 2014| 2 Comments »
I don’t know the name of the flower
about to bloom beside the trail,
but it has the leaves of a lily
and a single bud that hangs heavy
off a long bent stem.
Just as I don’t know the name
for the feeling I have when
I want you to act a certain way
and I have not yet realized
that my wanting is the problem.
Neither of these things matter—
the names, I mean. We like to think
that by naming a thing we know it.
But I have stopped believing that.
Whatever we can name, we start to overlook.
The heliotrope, for instance.
I greet it as we walk by, but I do not
stop to investigate its tiny white flowers,
nor do I rub its leaves between my fingers
to better understand their shape.
Imagine I did not know your name.
So every time we met I would
gather everything I could about you—
the scent of you, the shape of your hands,
the weather of your moods.
And imagine I forgot me, too,
and in discovering you, I’d see
myself anew. And I would be unfamiliar
with words such as happiness or forgiveness
or wound or wife.
Ah, to meet each other like that, the way we meet
this strange flower. More inquisitive than convinced.
More curious, less sure. Less like gods,
omniscient, commanding, more as if we are the ones
with so much opening left to do.
A Small Proof of Heisenberg’s Theory of Uncertainty
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged bud, change, growth, loss, poem, poetry, uncertainty on February 12, 2014| 3 Comments »
In the loss
is a branch
with a brittle
stem
where an old
fruit hangs
rust-colored
and dried
beside
a tight cluster
of rose-tipped buds
where something
fragile
and white
is just
beginning
to form.
Fourth Floor of Stockman
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged parenting, poem, poetry, uncertainty on August 1, 2013| 2 Comments »
He is screaming, now,
tears spitting, his gut
curls in to protect itself.
More animal, less boy.
He froths and spews.
She does not know what to do.
I hold her hand
as she reaches for his.
He recoils from her
and scowls. She
would like to be walking
through the aisles
laughing. She would
like to buy the boy
a warm shirt and
return to the rain
and breathe that rain scent
and admire the boy
as he splashes in puddles
and gets the new shirt wet.
But he is beyond froth now.
He blathers, unglues.
He twists and writhes
and spews and hurls.
I take the shirt from
her hand and return it
to the rack. When he
runs from her reach,
I do not hold her back.
I do not tell her
what to do. I listen
as she breathes
in, breathes out,
I watch as she looks
to the air, to the boy,
to the empty spaces
hanging on the racks.
Getting to What’s Underneath
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged falling apart, mask, poem, poetry, uncertainty on May 1, 2013| 2 Comments »
A tiny screw,
a tiny screw
beneath the butts
and cheat grass stems
and fallen in
between the rocks,
a tiny screw,
a tiny screw,
you almost missed it,
didn’t you, and what
did it hold together?
The sharp end broken,
useless now. Was
it mine? How
many lives does it
take to unscrew the
light? We are all
falling apart. In our wake,
we leave hundreds,
thousands of invisible
screws—in our lawns,
in our beds, between
our car seats, in thin
alleys, on stages,
beneath the fridge.
We are all trying
to pretend we can hold it
together. Next time, maybe
you’ll notice them,
not the millions of screws
we’re constantly stepping over, but
these holes that get harder
to hide from ourselves,
from each other.
But Where Does it Come From?
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged not knowing, poem, poetry, spring, uncertainty on March 28, 2013| 6 Comments »
These days are a mad gamble,
winter or spring, snow storm or sunburn,
though there is no mistaking
who’s leading the dance.
Overnight the pond ice
is gone. A bird we can’t name
dives below the open water
and we gasp, wondering how long
he can stay under there.
How long have we been under,
holding our breaths, fishing
for something, we know not what.
How long has it been winter?
There is frost in my hair.
Coming up for air, is that what we
are doing? It is hard to not notice
the spells that spring weaves
on the wind—scent of thaw,
scent of emergence, scent of divulgence,
scent of almost green. What are we becoming?
The tulip, it knows what will blossom
at the end of its stem. The jonquil,
the chokecherry, the avens. Are we,
too, predetermined in our unfolding?
I used to think I knew something about
how our story goes. That was before
the spine fell off the book and the pages
fluttered away like so many swooping starlings.
Let’s not try to answer anything. The ground
itself is breaking. The buds are breaking.
The vine is pushing life through what looks dead.
It is not that the prayers worked. It is spring.
Upcoming Writing Workshop with Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged playshop, poem, poetry workshop, Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer, uncertainty, Weehawken Arts on January 10, 2013| Leave a Comment »
The Weight of the Unknown: Writing from the unconstricted throat with Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
JANUARY 20, RIDGWAY, CO
10 A.M. TO 4 P.M.
We live in a culture that wants to know-we chart, graph, test, outline, classify, name and judge. But what of all the messiness, mystery and unruly potential that breeds beneath our longing for certainty? What would happen when we engage, as Adrienne Rich writes, with “the weight of the unknown, the untracked, the unrealized?” In this workshop we’ll explore how we might draw strength from “the great muscle of metaphor,” launching our poems and ourselves into the vast realm of possibility. We’ll read poems that lead us deeper into paradox and write poems that know more than we do. Let’s see what even a small bit of wonder might do …
This class is a reprise, back by request, with all new content but has the same emphasis on curiosity and play.
FOR MORE INFORMATION OR TO REGISTER, CALL 970-318-0150 OR GO TO THIS LINK: https://activenet006.active.com/weehawkenarts/servlet/adet.sdi;jsessionid=i7IQMN–bWXj+fev1VqeG1luaDQ?activity_id=898&show_all=&pagenum=1&paid=&online=true
Almost
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged certainty, poem, poetry, snow, uncertainty, winter on December 10, 2012| 3 Comments »
Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes
and no. No advice that sticks.
The snow comes down
like an afterthought. A flake
on the street. A flake on the nose.
Sometimes I live this way. Perhapsishly
and maybeing. Sixty-five shades
of gray. No rule I can believe in
enough to write it down. Life
itself the exception. Every day
the proof, and then this snow.
I used to think I knew what
gravity was. And love. True,
the snow comes down. But
the heart? How to explain
this rising, this infinite
falling apart, the tangled
astonishing mess. This snow
falling from nowhere. No. No. No.
No. No. No. I say. And yes.
What We Call Waiting
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged allowing, election, peace, poem, poetry, uncertainty, unknowing, waiting on November 6, 2012| 2 Comments »
And then there is
that moment after
the thrust and jostle
and sprint, after the longing
and righteousness, after the fever,
the furor, the fire, the conviction, when,
burnt out by our own
red ferocity, we see
there is nothing, nothing
to be done. There is
no defeat in this,
only release,
Then only
uncertainty is sound
enough to hold us up.
Then unknowingness is the only
place we can truly rest.
The Song Persephone Did Not Sing
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged certainty, love, persephone, poem, pomegranate, uncertainty on August 2, 2012| 2 Comments »
I thought I knew what love was,
and picked it from the tree—
red and smooth, hard, round
filled with ruby seeds.
I picked it ripe and lovely,
I cupped it in my hands
but did not want to spill its juice
or tear its flawless skin.
And so I set it in a bowl
to admire it on the table
and I admired till I did not,
until I forgot to see it.
And the skin began to wither,
turned to leathered, sunken rind,
and the color lapsed to dullish rust
and the ruby seeds inside—
I never knew their sweetness,
never tasted their garnet juice.
What became of the weight of love,
this love I thought I knew?
Struggle with the Divine
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged Jacob and the angel, poem, storm, struggle, uncertainty on August 1, 2012| 7 Comments »
Tonight, the storm is not here, but I see it
in the distance. Lightning unzippers the air, white shock
of illumination. The sky doesn’t hide its bruises.
Dark tents of rain settle over the flats.
And the thunder, no matter how distant, grabs me
with its enormous hands, shakes me by the shoulders,
and tells me to hush. If the angel came to me tonight
and said it were my turn to wrestle, would I tussle with him
until daybreak? Would I try to shutter him out? If he pushed me
to the earth, would I leap up and run? Or lie there and let
him take me the way the rain would if it were here?
I hush. Must we fight for our blessings? Must we steal
for our birthright? The wind dances the leaves,
ravages my hair. Angel, please do not come tonight.
I am tired. Uncertain. Oh, you are already here.
Moth
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged known, loss of self, moth, poem, uncertainty, unity on June 18, 2012| 2 Comments »
You are nothing but materials for burning
—Dorothy Walters
I wanted to be
somebody, not
just somebody
but somebody
wonderful and
preferably thin.
I wanted to be
somebody loved
and loving, someone
worth listening to,
someone fun, and
for forty two years
I built her into
a me, but she
is just a heap
of labels, a pile
of shoulds, a
list of pretty knowns
and fueling the one
who wants, there
is the one who is.
Five Unlearning Haiku
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged haiku, kiss, letting go, losing the self, mine, poem, possession, relaxing, sky, stars, uncertainty, unlearning, wind on February 4, 2012| 1 Comment »
That wind always tries
to undress me … today
it took my name, too.
*
It’s hard to be
serious when you’re kissing
my elbows.
*
What’s that? It’s only
supposed to have seventeen
syllables? But the sky today deserves at least twenty-five.
*
Erase the word mine
from these lips. Replace it with
nothing.
*
Tonight the stars
are just stars, the lines that link
them all undrawn.
Or Is It Learning to be More Than That?
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged answer, certainty, falling, path, poem, question, silence, uncertainty, unlearning on February 1, 2012| 9 Comments »
I curl the question mark of my body
into the silence around us. There is silence
inside of us, too, a pure silence that pools
and spills and overflows making it easier now to not know,
to not even guess what comes next,
and after years of wanting answers and trying
to make the world fit into an equation or an outline
or a calendar square or a rhyme scheme, I am
more easy now with falling into silence, with falling and
not even believing in wings, falling past
the hands reaching out to rescue me as if
falling is a terrible thing. But even falling
is a form of knowing, just a new metaphor,
a new word for path. And even a question mark
knows where it curves, where it is line, where it
breaks, where it becomes a point, one small point
amongst many small points. I am learning,
unlearning, to be less than that.
haiku
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged garment, haiku, nakedness, ravel, refresh, uncertainty, unknown, what is on January 24, 2012| 3 Comments »
