June 4, 2020

Privilege.

Privileges.

Privileged.

Sounds almost like it can be earned,

like I did something – deserved.

So seductive, this fallacy.

Then I don’t have to feel badly.

Then I don’t have to feel guilt for my advantage.

Then I don’t have to change my leverage.

How do I set it down,...

May 22, 2020

My refrigerator is full,

my cupboards far from bare.

Is that enough?

I have sheets for my bed,

a pillow for my head.

Is that enough?

I have meaningful work to occupy my days,

a consistent income stream.

Surely, that is enough.

I have a partner, dog, writing pen;

car, family, and...

April 10, 2020

Crimson splatters on white robes,

protein and plasma: essence of life,

thick with the stench of death.

Violence touches his skin, his face.

Not washing away the pain,

he is stained.

Chest open,

arm extended,

gazing upward,

he looks for invisible grace –

a shaft of mercy

to enter...

April 9, 2020

Red, newborn fists

hold together crumpled buds

at the ends of patient tree limbs.

Magically,

they will relax open

into smooth, emerald filament.

The buttery daffodil

rises from winter rest, head still bent -

soon to be lifted and alive.

Coaxed by gentle light,

the natural world...

December 16, 2019

I heard David Whyte read his poems seven years ago

and again recently.

Now, as then, he spoke of his dear friend

and fellow poet, John O’Donohue, long since dead.

Deep missing was evident in David’s stories;

I could feel it in between the lines of his verse.

Somehow, still,

J...

August 9, 2019

Today is the day.

Today is the day

            you bury your husband -

                        the love of your days,...

May 24, 2019

Thoughts of you float forward

            sitting in stillness

            walking in silence

            laying in darkness....

December 16, 2018

Everywhere I look

I see

unexpected partners

dancing as one:

Even streams of golden light and

Rolling river waves;

Improvising wind, unable to keep a constant beat and

Steadily swaying blades of grass;

Measured tree branches conservative in their movement and

Dashing birds, alig...

April 26, 2018

In order to repair my wounded finger,

they had to have my arm.

When I woke, I didn’t initially notice

that my arm was missing.

It looked normal by my side,

lying on the blue, foam prop.

Only when I was home in bed

did I understand the full extent of its vacancy:

I rolled over...

March 6, 2018

You blew in on the wind of an early spring

with a hint of new life in your step.

In a seamless motion we punctuated

an eight-year-old sentence.

And I realized your name must have been

written within me before I shattered

because I could feel

your embers linger in the remnants...

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