Tag Archives: Poetry

Thirst

Start with the thirst the deep well you have been forgetting, ancient and ready to be soaked without shame the well your grandmothers dug for you the reservoir carved and cared for by the people your ancestors betrayed your thirst … Continue reading

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Poetry, a Sabbatical Story

“Perhaps the earth can teach us as when everything seems dead and later proves to be alive.” -Pablo Neruda I’ve always loved writing – especially poetry – which I started experimenting with in middle school when all things feel like … Continue reading

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Summer Fruit

Stop changing I tell the peaches, pluots, and plums, as I pull them from the sack and line them up straight Stay as you are, sufficiently fragile and alive for ripening to remain ready, with sweetness to drip when my … Continue reading

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Zugzwang

By the time we sat in the room where life turned from what was, to what would be I had barely begun to believe there was a game, and we were players there was a strategy, and you intended to … Continue reading

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dukkha

I found myself apologizing to the peaches again today, the green ones I found on the ground, near the coneflower that could never make it to bud After the hail, and the late snow, and my intermittent neglect, somehow they … Continue reading

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My Children Try to Teach Me to Love Unfinished Things

markers with lids half-on, coloring books set out with pages like butterflies, half-beautiful; my hands covered in raw meat, dripping and dangerous – or dirt, with the torch lilly barely out of the pot, ready to be surrounded and held … Continue reading

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misconduct

while i was away the weeds decided to stage a coup across the rocks   and plants   and trees where i’d spent whole days meticulously digging out the thistle      unwinding the bindweed moving the rocks aside    to get at  … Continue reading

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