Category: Poetry
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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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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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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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Brackish
Here the waters are brackish,Here the confluence of salty and sweet,An in-between place where lichen turns to stone,A merging of black and blue become purple with the red of a rising sun. Here there is hope, the first and furious emergence of Spring,The fierce appearance of a wild iris amid crags.Here there is grief, a…
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What Lasts
Lovely laugh lasts,Past the part where the party ends,And the end of a friend’s laughter lastsUntil the last time I think of himWhich is neverNever-ending last laugh lovely as it lastsThe sound of the ground surrounds the moundWhere has he gone?And for how long?Forever he lasts and laughs the passed pastAnd grasps the hasp, Loosens…
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