poetry

The Good News (inspired by Thich Nhat Hanh)

The Good News (inspired by Thich Nhat Hanh)

Moon Creek will sing
whether we’re on the earth
or under it

the blue sky
will get bluer
without contrails

the twisted path that brought us here
today lets me make friendship offerings
to birds and foxes
whose bright beating hearts remind me
we’re not alone

my mother, planning for her death
in a place where I can’t hold her hand
smiles bravely, assures my sister and me
she’s lived her life of service
without regret

now there is so little left
in the way of importance
I sit on the side of the creek
while the snowy banks run to water
doing nothing
only being
only listening
when a mountain chickadee
who has heard nothing of the end of days
flits to a flat rock in the channel
then wades in
delightedly splashing clean cold water
all over her plump fluffed self

it takes a long time
for her to stop savoring the sensation
she jumps from one branch to the next
shaking all her feathers loose
bustling with the busy joy
of water sun and wind

and I am still here to see her
and you are still here to tell

poetry

on going separate ways

on going separate ways

I expected strained
awkward uncertain unbalanced
tenuous
but was not prepared
for nothingness instead
not even registering
on her map of feeling
I’m sure as usual
he’s disappointed in us all

the breeze settles to a humid stall
and even the waves refuse to break
night bugs keep up their cadence
regardless what I do or don’t do
night deepens
and the days go on

poetry

23 October

23 October

all day I’ve been silently slipping
in and out of thoughts of you
your birthday ingrained
in my internal calendar
like my first address
a prime number

I still don’t know
what I was supposed to learn or do
what I was asked to give
how I should have changed

no one speaks of any of this here
alone I settle into
the deep confusion
your memory rends
like the sucking fountain
where the towers once stood
the darkness going down down down
deeper than light can go
into a silent still chamber
where no answers wait

after a time
I begin to ascend
glimpse the 3 warm pink bodies near me
throw my grappling hook at any and all
haul myself into sun
with enough strength left
to mumble
thank you for the alphabet soup
that brought five of us
into the light

poetry

what I didn’t do

what I didn’t do

soak in the clawfoot tub
with rose petal milk bath
run every blessed day
go to bed early
finish the 30 Day Yoga Challenge
finish (any) book
finish the Kamana poems
finish laying out The Perch Post
finish revising Lachrymation
light the candles at the foot of the bed
read the guest book comments
type up all the Caribou poems
embroider a visor
become fluent in Spanish
order business cards
see a pine marten
call my dad every single day
get there in time

in the end
there’s only so much
energy you can spend
cataloging what you let go
so you can live
only so many fires you can light
and keep fed

poetry

another night in this bed

another night in this bed

William has passed
she said
calling him a name
he never used
the one he
came into the world with
a letterhead name
his father and father’s father
both bore
and failed to live by

what could I say next
to this well-meaning woman
her days filled with
speaking closed doors
to ears unready to hear
each crisp word
announcing an end to chances

I hung the phone
back in its cradle
testing the weight
of no more time