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Posts Tagged ‘zoom’

Community of Poets

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on August 29, 2026| 8 Comments »


 
 
The way a robin or oriole
might weave string or yarn
into its nest to create integrity
or an anchor, that is the way
I weave an imaginary red ribbon 
through each square
on the zoom screen. 
My friend has just invoked 
a Japanese legend
about how we are all connected
by a red thread, and though 
I have not heard this legend before, 
I can imagine a deep crimson stitching 
moving even now through all 
of our backgrounds,
making of this gathering 
a most wondrous nest, 
a sturdy place made of wet poems
and fresh music, song and mess, 
a durable creation in which we might
all rest, a sturdy, safe place
to find spaciousness.
 

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Looking at the Books Behind Jack and James

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on October 2, 2024| 15 Comments »


                  for Jack Ridl and James Crews
 
 
In the zoom room with Jack and James,
I stare at the books behind them—
books stacked, books shelved,
books slender and thick,
and I think of how we’re all shaped
by words we’ve read. For me,
the wooden love sonnets of Neruda.
The wanderings of Ammons. The wounds
of Olds. The wonder of Oliver.
The playfulness of cummings.
The ravages of Amichai and Darwish.
And oh, how I’ve been touched
by these two men—
their mornings with coffee and tea.
Jack’s dog. James’s flowers.
The ways they fill their hours
with kindness. With silence.
With peeling back the layers
of family and home and self.
If there were shelves inside me,
you probably wouldn’t find
their books there—more likely
strewn about on the heart’s couch,
the mind’s floor. I carry them
with me into each inner room,
Jack’s walks, James’s bees,
and daily, they become me.
And all those books on their shelves
that have formed these men
into the humans they are,
I thank all of those poets, too.
How deeply entwined we all are.
How many lives and poems we bring with us
each time we enter a room.

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