She says her heart is a garden when she talks about it Large, flowing, growing, And I love it when she does. But I know, too, that her garden-heart has had a period of California-large drought Followed by reckless hooligans who ripped and kicked all the plants And some slimy salesmen who sold her weedContinue reading "Small winter poem 6 | She of the garden-heart"
Small winter poem 5 | Paintbrush
I keep my paintbrushes in a plastic box In a drawer In the corner Of the basement. There are maybe 40 brushes in the box Remnants from classes Workshops from my childhood Mixed together now. I don't paint very regularly Maybe a gift here and there Mostly I take the box When a group projectContinue reading "Small winter poem 5 | Paintbrush"
TODAY’S CRAZY SAINT STORY
While I'm trying to write one poem every day for thirty days--YOU GUYS--break in the action here to talk about: St. Alice. I'm still researching saints for work-y things. LISTEN. St. Alice was born in Brussels, Belgium, same place as those amazing waffles and amazing chocolates. When she was SEVEN years old she apparently askedContinue reading "TODAY’S CRAZY SAINT STORY"
Small Winter Poem 4 | Favorites
How good are woolen socks, though? Woolen socks Ice designs swirled onto frozen glass New workouts I test in order to stay focused, clear, strong Tea held both-hands in mugs Evenings in the warm, lit kitchen with friends all around Reminiscing about the memories made in the warmer months, all the while planning for newContinue reading "Small Winter Poem 4 | Favorites"
Small winter poem 3 | Once upon a waltz
Maybe it's just me But does anyone else Relate specific songs to specific people? Maybe it's just because I dance But when certain songs play ...on the web ...at wedding receptions ...over PA systems I think about the pilgrims Whose paths Have crossed mine Face/ places/ spaces of blurred memories overlapping. Today I was inContinue reading "Small winter poem 3 | Once upon a waltz"
Small winter poem 2 | Escape
Someone tell me the nearest place where the sun shines so I can drive there, pull a folded camping chair from my trunk and sit . . . with my face . . . to the sun . . . until my skin burns and peels and my veins know vitamin D in them onceContinue reading "Small winter poem 2 | Escape"
Small winter poem 1 | Morning whale
I was driving to work this morning Eating oatmeal. I do this all the time, inexplicably, Even if I have enough time to sit at the table and eat. On some unconscious level, I'd rather balance the white corningware In the passenger seat, a partner in the morning's commute. Today I had filled the bowlContinue reading "Small winter poem 1 | Morning whale"
Worth celebrating
Yesterday I was rubbing my chin, absentmindedly, as I wrote, and I realized that I was growing a singular bristle-hair on the right-hand side, on my jawline, so I got up and walked to the bathroom and plucked it with some pink tweezers I keep on hand for any such occasions. And then I thoughtContinue reading "Worth celebrating"
What the Lord hath done
One time, when I was dressed in a floor-length gown and I was holding flowers, I sat in the front pew of a church and watched my brother marry a good woman. There is a prayer sometimes used in wedding masses, a special prayer for the wife, full of beautiful words and phrases and wishes--thatContinue reading "What the Lord hath done"
mine
These are my people. And that is my river. Actually, that River is Detroit's. And those people belong to God. But, He shares them with me. Like last week. When we all gathered and walked through the blessed space that is Belle Isle, an island close to the banks of America and Canada both, andContinue reading "mine"
Seashell Nell 