For most of us, there is only the unattended Moment, the moment in and out of time, The distraction fit, lost in a shaft of sunlight, The wild thyme unseen, or the winter lightning Or the waterfall, or music heard so deeply That it is not heard at all, but you are the music While the music lasts. *T.S. Eliot, line from The Dry Salvages, out of Four Quartets
poetry
Restored
When something takes on otherworldly proportions because of its simplicity and beauty.
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Mothers
The conflict happens because she’s right and she loves you. And yet, we strive against all her rightness, her great ideas, Her prodding us into things that challenge and define us. She made memories for us, with the books she read us, The games she played, the places she took us, The worlds … Continue reading Mothers
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Bared Claws
I have heard of the dance of Eagles mating.
I have seen the statue of talons out sharp;
a fierce battle and free fall – wings and bodies
tumbling over one another as they drop to earth.
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Poetry in Music and Dance
There is so much poetry in dance, in the way bodies sidle up to one another and barely touch and then move away, only to come back around and move together suggestively, still holding back, still mostly eyes, still only hints at what could happen if both bodies fully engaged. There is love and loss … Continue reading Poetry in Music and Dance
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Maybe I was Never a Heathen After All
"You know how sometimes you have a fight with me in your head, and I don't know anything about it," my husband asked me this morning. "What if that's what you have going with 'The Church' - what if you are mad at them, but they aren't even in it, and they're not mad at you … Continue reading Maybe I was Never a Heathen After All
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Filling Small Pages with Enormous Words of Love
These are the tiny books Bean has made for me in the last week. The Best Mom book is 22 pages with my name written on every page, and as you can see, just larger than a quarter. The other book with stars and moon and hearts on the outside is blank inside and he … Continue reading Filling Small Pages with Enormous Words of Love
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She Thought Perhaps Azalea
#blacklivesmatter
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The Soundtrack of our Lives
This morning I woke up with a song in my head, and it's a good one. It's the one I blast in my car on the way to Poetry Slam. It's the one I sing along to and throw little girl-power dance parties to in the parking lot outside the pizza place where the … Continue reading The Soundtrack of our Lives
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Because Cleaning is so Distracting
Or rather, we have a friend coming over this afternoon, and so the boys are cleaning, and I am cleaning, and we are all getting distracted by the things we are supposed to be putting away. I'm straightening my bedside table, and finding books of poetry that should be leafed through if only for … Continue reading Because Cleaning is so Distracting
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Sink Down Deep
What does it mean to sink down deep Into who you are and speak your truth And be yourself, and have your own Moment of HOWL, to sound your own Barbaric Yawp over the rooftops of the world? It may mean to say without thinking, Recite without reading, or read Without looking up once … Continue reading Sink Down Deep
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Astounded by all the Kissing in Math
Once again, I will start by saying I didn't always love Math. I struggled with it, and couldn't figure out how I would ever need it in a life of creative pursuit. Then I had children. Those children are creators in their own rights - with structure and form and spatial relationships. My kids build … Continue reading Astounded by all the Kissing in Math
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Days of Soup and Holler
It seems as if the geese could bump into each other in this mist, each screeching into the void sounding out to the others calling the way forward southward, onward toward the next season, the next warm nest. I can’t see to the end of my driveway, fog hanging in white, billowing curtains, pulling … Continue reading Days of Soup and Holler
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Open-Mic Poetry Gathering
Did I ever show you this handmade gift from Benjamin this year? Talk about a gift that went straight to my heart. I have never cried more over a present in my life. That he knew my deepest desire, and created something to represent me getting that artistic need fulfilled... If you look closely, there … Continue reading Open-Mic Poetry Gathering
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Throw-Back Thursday: Another Year, Another Show
These photos are all from the 2009 show, Strengthen Me with Raisins. Back in 2007, I performed my very first Poetry Show as part of the Rogue Festival in Fresno, CA. I was 39 years old, and I floated away from my first Standing Ovation, not physically touching the ground. These are the shows I … Continue reading Throw-Back Thursday: Another Year, Another Show
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Downbeats of Defiance
Sometimes I shatter; break into pieces and scatter across the floor. My tiny shards reflect light in odd patterns on the wall and once again I am something shiny. I remember a spark, I remember a brilliance, I point with awe. We do this dance of bright things to dung hills and … Continue reading Downbeats of Defiance
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I Run Along Beneath You
If I could see what you see; the finished project from a pile of scraps. The angles and lines and tiny details, wheels within wheels that leap from your mind; the magic you create. I run along beneath you as you soar - holding ropes or guide lines. Trying to offer some balance; tiny morsels … Continue reading I Run Along Beneath You
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As Trees are Born to Bear Leaves
Writing as a Spiritual Practice
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Monkeys Flinging Poop, Friends Visiting and other Poetic Adventures
"Not Cool, Robert Frost!" It has been all the rage on the internet, at Ted Talks, on the Late Night Circuit - all over the place. If you have not yet seen The Pep Talk, by Kid President, please, go see it now. I will wait. My kids and I have watched this so many … Continue reading Monkeys Flinging Poop, Friends Visiting and other Poetic Adventures
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This is the time I feel closest to the page
This time is the time I feel closest to the page; here, at this table, with a warm cup of coffee, now, in the wee hours, dark all around me, sun not ready to peak over the ridge for several hours, children still tucked into bed, silent for these few hours. Silence. Golden. Shimmering. Silver-plated. … Continue reading This is the time I feel closest to the page
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Come here, You!
It's like a fireworks: well, no, it's really like a Persian rug." Rainer Maria Rilke It is a comfort that even great writers fumble over themselves to find words to describe loveliness in nature. This morning I sat back and watched as Rilke stumbled to describe a few twigs of heather included in a letter. … Continue reading Come here, You!
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Endless Visibility that Hands you the Horizon on a Platter
This morning, I started out my reading time with a little poetry from Billy Collins. The title of this article is a line from his poem Canada, from the book, "Sailing Alone Around the Room." What Collins does best is turn an apparently simple phrase into a numinous moment. --The New Yorker That started off … Continue reading Endless Visibility that Hands you the Horizon on a Platter
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All the World, In Brief
In only seven stanzas and a little introductory phrase, a quote by Paul Cezanne, I am plunged into the world of beauty, where art, science, philosophy, farms and haystacks, baseball, the history of architecture, and the heaven of geometry with its lines, vanishing points and theorems converge to dance, intertwined and deeply in love.* That … Continue reading All the World, In Brief
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Planting Seeds of Hope: in Hums and Laughter and Poetry
Another night. Another gift. Dinner was amazing - homemade hot-dog buns, homemade mayonnaise, homemade relish, homemade potato chips. Big, honkin' Hot-dogs. Delicious. Then while Bean was humming sweetly to himself in the tub, Scott and Ben were imitating one another sprawled out on the floor in front of the wood-burning stove. They were both exhausted from a long … Continue reading Planting Seeds of Hope: in Hums and Laughter and Poetry
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Nostalgic Poet Mama, with a Downright Ugly Twinge of Jealousy
Ever since last week, I cannot help hearing the name Dessa Darling, a poet nearing Pop Icon status, and wrecking my serenity just a tiny bit. Only a tiny bit. Of course I'm happy for her. She is all over the internet, Twitter adores her, she was interviewed on The Splendid Table over the weekend … Continue reading Nostalgic Poet Mama, with a Downright Ugly Twinge of Jealousy
