Posted in Uncategorized, tagged hope, pussy willow, softness, vulnerability, willingness on April 3, 2020| 9 Comments »
Every year the pussy willows
astonish me with their willingness
to be soft in a time when the rest
of the world is stick-ish and harsh and bare.
Sometimes softness is the key to survival.
I search for it in myself—the courage
to shed the hard shell I thought would protect me,
to shuck the hard shell that no longer fits,
and I marvel as something new emerges,
soft as pussy willows,
this vulnerable, practical hope.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged kitchen, love, partnership, tenderness, vulnerability on February 20, 2020| Leave a Comment »
Today I wish I were a potato peeler,
able to remove the outer layers of myself,
able to shave off any toughness I’ve developed
to protect, to safeguard, to shield. I want to give
myself to you, the inner sweetness,
the tenderest parts. I want to unpeel
any husk, any rind, any barrier
that would keep you from the heart
of me. I want to meet you vulnerably.
Today I want to take the long thin blade
and make ribbons of my resistance,
make strips of my defenses and watch
them fall like burlap veils. And if I cannot
find the courage to be the one who peels,
let me put the tool in your hand. I’m afraid,
but I am ready. Be sure, love. Be quick.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged authenticity, gift, poem, poetry, vulnerability on December 26, 2019| Leave a Comment »
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged airport, daughter, grief, impermanence, parents, poem, poetry, tears, vulnerability on July 25, 2019| 9 Comments »
It wasn’t until I had passed through security
and found my way into Concourse B
that I found myself sinking into a chair
across from a giant Vienna Beef poster
and began to weep. And once they began,
the tears wouldn’t stop. Nor did I try
to stop them. I had wondered in the ICU
where they were. Had wondered
again at my parents’ home. It was strange
to be so level—not cold, really, and not numb,
but oddly steeled. It was a relief, really,
to sob into my hands. To let grief take over.
To be a maidservant to fragility.
What a gift to be sideswiped with the truth
of our vulnerability. What a blessing
to be baptized in my own helplessness.
Over the loudspeaker, they announced
that a plane was delayed. As if any of us
really know when we’ll depart, when we’ll arrive.
When the tears dried, I stood. Walked
to my gate recalibrated. Called my parents
again because I could. Because I could.
In the window, I smiled at my watery reflection,
how it almost wasn’t there at all.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged communication, garden, love, poem, poetry, vulnerability on October 10, 2018| Leave a Comment »
tossing my gloves
to pull carrots with naked hands—
this, how I long to speak with you
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged ars poetica, paradox, poem, poetry, vulnerability, writing on September 12, 2018| Leave a Comment »
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged bicycle, poem, poetry, rain, storm, vulnerability on September 2, 2018| 2 Comments »
Standing beneath the pinion tree
I am almost dry, while all around me
the rain almost attacks the road.
I lean my head against its shagging bark
and watch the world transform from dust
to shine. Thunder rends the darkened sky.
I knew when I began the ride
the rain was impatient.
I knew it would be no gentle shower.
How odd to trick myself into being
caught in a storm. How often I choose the gale.
Small bits of bark tear off in the wind,
fall to the cactus, the dirt. Eventually,
I am no longer content to watch
and pull my bike into the rain. Wasn’t
this what I wanted somehow, to be
unguarded, exposed, out? Within a minute
my clothes stick to my skin, and I shiver,
in part from the chill, in part because
I, too, have become a shining thing.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged cat and mouse, poem, poetry, vulnerability on August 27, 2017| Leave a Comment »
(title is a quote from Amy Irvine McHarg)
here kitty, kitty,
she says, crooking her finger,
her mouse heart leaping against her chest
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged collaboration, Kyra Kopestonksky, poem, poetry, vulnerability on January 31, 2016| 3 Comments »
Hi friends,
Yesterday my good friend Kyra Kopestonsky came over to play cello … she has a grant application due so we were making videos of collaborative pieces we’ve performed together before. What a great way to spend a morning hour, reciting poems and making music. It’s a little echo-y, but here’s a playful version of “Post Script”. I love the way the cello underlines all the fragility–proof somehow that through resonance we can support each other in our most vulnerable places. Good luck, Kyra, getting that residency!
