Category: self transformation
-
Queuing at the Door, or, A Prayer for Bob Hinkle
—
by
1) Fold your hands, bow your head, Shut your eyes and pray I would try, but no one said how to pray Just how to act like praying I wanted to know where to go, how many Steps to take, how many doors to open 2) Dad would get angry, If you cheated and opened…
-
Faith
You never knew you were afraid of heights until you had to walk across that bridge. Don’t look down. Look up. Say, yes, believe; take the first step. The abyss is powerless to stop you 3-17-21
-
how I became a poet
When I was in fourth grade they tried to teach me violin but I was called a sissy I put down my case and fought When I was seventh grade I wanted to play French horn but trombones were cheaper I knew all the troublemakers and band secrets I’d laugh and would not snitch When…
-
brainspotting
homeostasis is process not revelation listen deeply to the quiet inside your head somatic cues brush empty canvas the universe paints your innocence 1-25-21
-
Socially awkward
No one knows how it got there; If the woods encroached on its space Or whether the camellia invaded the woods. Was a seed dropped by a bird or did a gardener plant it? It doesn’t matter how, only that it blooms At the edge of a woods on a chilly winter’s day 1-19-21
-
meditation on a leaf
…..watch leaf detach drift to ground …..ask daylight to replay the moment …..exhausted unencumbered by connection to past …..leaf releases hold leaps into abyss …..inaudible to ears a gasping sound 12-8-20
-
Tercet in Black
A decade or so ago I met three high school students young black girls ready to burst I shared the stage, heard them read, become what I am not Removed from seeding pots, they went to college; roots need room to grow I catch glimpses on social media, they don’t need another unasked for opinion…
-
voices
long delayed project finished sit back, sip ginger tea admire my Dad’s voice barks what the hell took you so long my Mom’s voice counters you could have done better trying to become an adult but voices won’t let me 11-17-20
-
happy/sad
I remember the morning breakfast at my parents’ table Dad in his chair by the window Mom making coffee, frying eggs, bustling, always bustling. He said, I wanted to tell you first; in that split second, I thought the worst, cancer or some other kind of slow dying. I left the Republican Party; they’ve lost…
-
Wanted: A Pair of Wings
This morning specks of birds in distant sunny sky rise and float No crystal stair not even splintered boards tacks impaling bare feet Teach us to fly to leave the ground to soar above 11-4-20
My husband's poetry 