I find the Light
rumpled in the morning sheets —
toss back the quilt & there it is,
rising in the gold air,
catching in the dust motes,
setting them on fire …
Tag: poetry
hungry and fearless and thirsty and supple …
I’ll tell you a secret … I’ve been a little distracted lately. Harried. Fractured. Busy. (Which — I’ll tell you — is a very modern and grown-up kind of brokenness.) But today, I went for a walk in the woods — something I haven’t done for months now. I disappeared into a hole in the […]
floating … {a summer scribble}
I lie down on the lake … Hot languid light: Liquid green at my back, and a face full of sky — cielo. See that blue, though —a broken-open huskof heaven. No place to be.Nothing to say.Two palmfuls of cloud… Let’s just lie hereand be still. ❤
Quiet
Come in, Love,and shake the rainfrom your shoulders. Come —let the storm lash the panes of the windows,the thunder rattle the bones of the house.Here we’ll make Quiet the way some peoplemake Love. (I’ll tell you a secret:Sometimes they’re one & the same.) Let’s not talk of the worldoutside the door —the storm has snappedthe wires to this place,and no outside […]
A little hope for your Monday morning …
I have a lot on my mind tonight. There are some big changes around the bend for me, and as I stand on the margins of them, it seems right to be quiet for a little while. To think, and let the empty space stretch out its limbs. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have […]
this is what my subconscious sounds like …
Insomnia Diaries — 7/20/2014 if i should be transformed then oh — let the gods make me a bird to sing my secrets to the ear unheard. * at night the bush below my window burns — the nest inside catching like tinder. one small bird leaps up, alight, feathers on fire, its […]
brave words for fearful people …
Go out into the world:
Go! Yes, you — though you are fearful and fragile and small.
Go broken-winged and bent-boned and beauty-starved… Lovesick. Stardrunk. Skydizzy.
Or go sharp-eyed and sober, if that’s how it is — the hunger for the light a clenched fist in your stomach …
other tongues …
I have spent my life in the company of those who like to talk about words. Their power (so they say) mightier than the sword.
But words are just one language, and — hear me — there are others. Ones I am just now beginning to learn…
Flashback: A Question, Left By a Brook …
True story? At least three times in the past three days, someone I care about has stared straight into my eyes and said something like: I can’t take much more of winter. They haven’t said the words like people griping about getting caught in an afternoon rainshower. Instead, they’ve spoken with a kind of emptiness and exhaustion […]
