FUZZY BRAIN

When I was finally diagnosed with spondylitis 7 years ago, it was my body of course that showed the signs first: the pain and stiffness, fatigue. When I began graduate school two years after that, something else happened, another facet of the illness appeared causing a different sort of trouble: brain fog. As I went […]

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A SHORT STORY OF FALLING

In the past year as I’ve continued my independent study of poetry, I’ve become acquainted with some contemporary poets of the UK. The latest is Oxford-educated Alice Oswald, who lives in Devon and often has the natural world at the center of her work. Thus far I’ve only had a brief read of some of […]

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THE LAYERS

I have walked through many lives,some of them my own,and I am not who I was,though some principle of beingabides, from which I strugglenot to stray.When I look behind,as I am compelled to lookbefore I can gather strengthto proceed on my journey,I see the milestones dwindlingtoward the horizonand the slow fires trailingfrom the abandoned camp-sites,over […]

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WINDY

Who’s tripping down the streets of the citySmilin’ at everybody she seesWho’s reachin’ out to capture a momentEveryone knows it’s Windy How gloriously windy it’s been here today in Hay. I have the tendency to think about life according to music–songs I love, hate, or that were playing during key moments. As I sat in […]

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THIS TIME

      Many things I seem to have done backward as a child I wanted to be older now I am trying to remember why and what it was like to have to pretend day after day I saw places that I did not recognize until later on when nothing was left of them […]

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THE DISAPPEARANCE OF BREATH

It isn’t the wear and tear of getting older even though it began over years and not days when I was still hiking mountains. Along with the occasional fire and stiffness in my knees and hips and neck I noticed that I could no longer breathe deep during meditation so I abandoned meditation out of […]

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IF I WERE….

    The Cinnamon Peeler Michael Ondaatje If I were a cinnamon peeler I would ride your bed and leave the yellow bark dust on your pillow. Your breasts and shoulders would reek you could never walk through markets without the profession of my fingers floating over you. The blind would stumble certain of whom […]

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