Well, this evening was quite eventful.  My brothers, my mother and I were watching ER in the den.  My mom decided to head upstairs, but the three of us decided to watch one more episode.  But, as she was heading up the stairs, my mother saw a firetruck or an ambulance of some sort driving up the street. So she looked outside. And, seeing cars and ( Read more... )

Moments

I live for moments like these:
the split-second on the coaster when the world waits
halfway betwen levity and gravity

before the sky retreats
before the gears grate.
The moments like these,

just before the music repeats
leave me, body heavy, but breath baited,
halfway between levity and gravity.

Or when a book, a character, a ( Read more... )

Diving In

Learning to dive is asking the world
to stand on end
with the cumulonimbus
cumulating by her feet,
and asking her hair
to taste the chorine before her tongue.

This task is harder than Uncle says.
Harder, even, than Mrs. Griman's class
assignment of twenty times problems in twenty minutes.

Near the water dangle ten fingers ( Read more... )

To the Unrecognized Saint of Reunited Friends

Perhaps you were worn out
by the back breaking work of tunneling
Through the hearts of America
To make a great 19th century railroad.

Perhaps it was VE Day that did you in
The heartbreaking work of uncovering
Near skin and bones and pulling them
to old friends to try to make them whole.

( Read more... )

I've decided not to post the mediocre poem from yesterday.  Instead, here is today's.

The Old Nun's Hands

My life blood lies buried
deep below the surface of my skin.
Her veins coarse her hands:
a topographical map of faith.

My hands are earthly--engaged
in driving and dusting and busy-ness.
Her hands are spirit pale
and sit in still ( Read more... )

A Self Portrait

It is at night and in the morning
that I see myself most clearly:

My teeth pure white
'til I spit out the foam
and they are elephant ivory.
my eybrows ruffled by water
'til I smooth them down
as a hand on the cat's back
My collarbone a great seagull
my breasts, two smooth turtle shells
my belly a third.

Most ( Read more... )

It is exciting to write a poem everyday.  It is exciting because every night as a fall asleep, I feel as if I have done something meaningful, even if it is only a few lines long.  Because when I wake up in the morning I have that sense of: something exciting happened yesterday! and then I remember, "Ah-hah! I wrote something!  I wonder if it is any ( Read more... )

Showering

The throat sticking stench
of stale cigarrettes
reluctantly slides off
and slithers down the drain
with this morning's hair
into the dark tunnel pipes
where neither the hair
nor the water
is heard from again,
having eloped, entwined,
to the Bahamas.

There, they and the fish
I dumped in the mill stream
sip salted ( Read more... )

Hunger

"The Chinese say that we live in the world of the ten thousand things.
Each of the ten thousand things cries out to us precisely nothing."
--------------Annie Dillard

Adam ate the apple
because, even then in paradise,
he was hungry
for more than a thousand nothings,

The orange sunrise,
the pursed lip strawberry kiss
the cat ( Read more... )

Summer is settling into full swing.  Yesterday I went out and played tennis with the people about whom I complained a few days ago. We went out to a late dinner afterwards and talked and laughed.  When I noted:
    "It's Friday and we're not making plans to get drunk!" 
They said:
    "Well...R.'s not here." 
Thank God. Up until the very end of the ( Read more... )