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Weather II
What I forgot to say is what I don’t want to say,Namely, that I know the weather is changing,The climate is shifting,The days growing warmer,The rains staying away longer,And I feel helpless, Even, sometimes, hopeless. I forgot to say how much I love all the little places of the world,And how I want to hold…
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Weather I
The weather where I live has exhibited signs of bi-polar disorder as of late. One day, really hot, in the upper 90’s. A few days later, a cold front, grey, drizzly, like my college days in Oregon. In fact, two days ago I felt like I was holed up in my dorm room again. Restless.…
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Missed Concerts
Recently, I’ve been thinking about which concerts I wished I had gone to but did not because I wasn’t aware they were happening until it was too late. The first I think of is Simon and Garfunkel at the Concert in Central Park. It happened on September 19, 1981. My parents listened to that concert…
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Sounds Fill My Senses
The sound of a trilling bird fills my mouth. It tastes like raspberries ripening in the sun with a hint of the prickly branch. My taste buds are tickled to the point of irritation by this truculent trill. They rise up, swollen pink beads on the tip of my tongue. The stubborn creek beyond my…
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I Forgot
I forgotTo close the garage doorThat Mother’s Day doesn’t really work in our houseThat I like to tinker with things and tidy them upI don’t know what I forgotI forgot to forgetI forgot what I’m writing aboutI forgot to lose controlTo lose myselfTo loose myself I forgot to remain present in this momentNo, this oneNo,…
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Rain
My earliest memory of rain is an exquisite one. I’m 8 or 9 years old and I’m lying in my bed at night, well tucked in. My father is a minister and our house is a parsonage. Not a glamorous one. Quite the opposite. The house has two bedrooms for four people. 900 square feet.…
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Uterus
If I had a uterus,I would want to be free to decide what to do with it.I would want to be trusted to make choices – The easy ones and the excruciating ones,The simple ones and the complicated ones,The proactive ones and the reactive ones.All of them. If I had a uterus,I would marvel, and…
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The Hour of Lead
In the hour of lead, I’m standing at the sink.The sun is scorching white outside the window.I can’t feel my feet, my face.I have just finished scrubbing and rinsing the last blue plate,Setting it in its place in the rack to dry.And now, drying off my hands,The dense presence of my unthought life descends,Or does…
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