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 […]Read More THIS TIME
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 […]Read More THE DISAPPEARANCE OF BREATH
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 […]Read More IF I WERE….
Another poem by Donald Hall. Curiously enough, I have never enjoyed enjoyed his earlier poetry. After he lost his wife, the poet Jane Kenyon, however…his poetry turned into something, into a heart that spoke to me, that I could understand. I always return to his words, his images. He and Jane both have consistently […]Read More WITHOUT
A gem by the poet Donald Hall, who lives just one town over from me. His words, his voice–I never cease to be in awe.Read More AFFIRMATION
I have refused to live locked in the orderly house of reasons and proofs. The world I live in and believe in is wider than that. And anyway, what’s wrong with Maybe? You wouldn’t believe what once or twice I have seen. I’ll just tell you this: only if there are angels in your […]Read More THE WORLD I LIVE IN
Danny was my stepfather. March 15 marked six years since he died. He and my mother had been divorced for some time when he left us for good, but I remained attached to him. He was the first person to openly encourage me to write, to never stop writing. We shared a love of […]Read More DANNY