Tuesday, April 29, 2014

The hardest thing

with my two grown children,
each with new babies,

is letting them grow down
into themselves.

I had them
close to the bone

in two years and I survived
the feedings, washings,

readings to, puttings to bed,
keeping some things in order

on a shoestring
though the cost

to me was a barrenness
of long lonely days

until I was sure
nothing alive could sprout

from me ever again.
All things rub together

into nothing.
This is where we vibrate.

Slowly, invisibly
and then the tiny tendril flame.



Friday, April 18, 2014

Holy life


The sun’s yolk
spreads

neon pink
and orange

across the pan
of sky.

Broken to flow
it bleeds

like this
everywhere

eventually
in one day

egalitarian,
as needed




Tuesday, April 8, 2014

Queen Anne's lace in April


After a winter of nearly
a full alphabet of storms,
from Atlas almost to Zephyr —
            conquering kings, hunters,
            warriors, destroyers —

prostrate stalks and grasses
like sickled wheat
layer the meadow,
unquestioning, submissive,
as if stepped on by gods,

except every few feet
where thin stems stand
stiff, unbent, lace collars
intact, rising like peaceful
purveyors of xenia,
the ancient obligatory gift
of hospitality and protection
to strangers, however
violently they might come.

* * *
Added at 10:08am:

I am excited by a one-on-one "workshopping" from a friend who suggests this edit. I think it is an improved, tightened version, and I appreciate it!


After a winter's alphabet of storms,
from Atlas almost to Zephyr —
            conquering kings, hunters,
            warriors, destroyers —

prostrate stalks and grasses
like sickled wheat
layer the meadow,
submissive,
stepped on by gods

except where thin stems stand
unbent,
lace collars whole,
rising like
purveyors of xenia,
the ancient obligatory gift
of hospitality and protection
to strangers, however
violently they might come.



You can read the list of names given to the storms of 2013-14, including Xenia, the most recent (I think).