i am no longer fitting the pieces of my life back together
I am ready for creation

Though i will not forget the sky
pink and orange and a painful kind of blue
walking alone through the snow at twilight
the mind clear from the static in the air
full and empty and round with thought
and Feeling
of Self.

we were hopping on rocks ( Read more... )

i remembered today falling into the warrior pose, learning for the first time that you knew how to do yoga because you did this intensive study on Asian religions and took classes as part of the project in college. i remembered how our lives unfolded and broke open to one another
how we laughed and wept and hurt one another like sisters

i ( Read more... )

i just want a cigarette.

there is a fresh cold in the air
that signals the turning to a time of introspection
staying in
learning what we can
from the darkness

to fully comprehend meaning
of winter
is different without the violence of snow
ice hugging walkways and the morning windshield
it is subtle
and deceiving to the haughty

whether welcomed or not ( Read more... )

Culmination.

The pinch
of sipping teas and coffees on a crisp and even table
there is Silence where there was once Sound.

and maybe it is cold
or frightening
in the common rhythm
achieved through inconsistent and altogether humiliating strides

but nevertheless heralded
coddled and regarded
as won

not survived.

so i suppose the next six months
will be
the carrying of a dark secret
that lingers
and haunts

and i will seek
with an even breath
and steady hand
the distant light
that has and remains

waiting for me

to me
fingerpicking guitar sitting on damp grass in the valley
the sound of Garrison Keiler's voice when it's cold outside
the quiet of dawn when the air demands joy of being alive

you are
gentle water over smooth round stones washing beauty into the world
the reason why i can't listen to distortion
on the radio anymore

you are ( Read more... )

trite and hokey

but i'm ready to look forward finally, instead of behind me always.
to appreciate criticism when it comes
because i love myself enough
at last

to see history for what it is
this wisp of fog
and today is all i want in the world.

that to bask in the present sunrise
might be the most important thing i ever do
in this tiny

it is the second day of fall
and i dream of walking on logs in the woods
listening to poetry in dark, alternative school buildings
waiting for the mosquitoes to slowly recede into the cold

of sitting on the porch and read side by side
like loved ones with long, stretched histories
smelling the changing of the leaves