Monday, January 9, 2017


the poem is born from the  
underbelly where the
fire lies.

I will
write from the place where
broken turns broken
open like too much becomes over-
flowing like
river like
can't contain this 
could never contain this, like
tried to tame this
tried to train this
tried to good girl this
truth, this human, this
woman out of me, like -- 

I am learning to
breathe this body.  Learning to
move to
unsmall myself, learning to
expand.  You may not
chain me: I am
frightened and
flying. I am
everything you fear and
living in this broken,
holy body, I will
the blossom of this
too much, this

truth-stained, battered
transparent heart of a body is
all I have and I will
rely on her for she is
fierce.  You may not
convince me
otherwise and

my heart will 
believe these words.  Sheds
tears to believe these words, it took me
years to remember how
to pull my tear ducts
open but now I let old
pieces of myself fall like
stars: hope-filled and
sad, yet 
beautiful in the

God, make me fierce
enough to hold this holy
boldness.  Turn me vast and
spacious: unleash in me a wondering
furious love to keep me


Monday, January 2, 2017

A New Year Poem in 3 Acts

I.      Resolutions

Sometimes I wonder about the cost of being human.
I wonder if I made a covenant with a divine
being I have since forgotten
to pay on this ride; I wonder if I
am pulling my weight.

I could make a resolution.
Everyone could make a resolution.
We could all make resolutions like I will: 
                               lose 20 pounds and eat more vegetables
or                           give to charity and volunteer for the homelessanimalshelterfoodpantry
or                           beabetterperson who doesbetterthings and thinksbetterthoughts.
It would not be wrong and many will do it.
I could make a resolution.

Promise is a synonym for resolution.
As are oath / pledge / purpose --
this is no small matter in a world of the
uncompromising splendor and
terror we
live, enable, unmask.

 A synonym for resolute is stubborn.
So are determined / unwavering / definite --
there is power in this,
the living, the marching rising lifting hearing speaking yelling falling and
rising again.

I do not love the coming of the year.
When more in me feels old than new and
change hangs like a pendulum swinging without
gravity or physics,
resolutions surround that may/not be of consequence
and the weight of the unresolved shifts like earth
quake: break me open.  Make me
thunderous and messy in my
shaking, challenge me to be dis-
comforted, up-rooted and
growing.  Unquiet my heart and light a
fire to burn my too soft edges -- the world is precious and I am
Let me learn to pay the cost of being human in
raw, determined love:
this promise is one I must continually learn
to keep.

II.     Revelations

New Year "beginning again" is not my
target: growth is too hard

won to aim for beginning
anew, roll that clock

onward, I am standing
under the dripping

faucet of faith, waiting for
no one: I am my own

Godot. And aren't I
dangerous? Aren't I a woman to be

feared as I dare
revelations of my own

III.     Revolutions

In astronomy, natural objects in space are
heavenly bodies.
Although no one says it,
we celebrate the New Year because our
heavenly body completed one
full cycle around another heavenly
body and those cycles are

Quiet, unassuming amid our
fireworks and ball drops, the
heavenly body heaves herself to home plate
without a sigh of derision, the
gravity of this revolutionary
love literally holding us all
here, we
human bodies crack
under both weight and
weightlessness, we know

is the key for our survival
is making it home when they tried to end you
is holding it all in love, and anger, and fear, 
is the will to keep your
heavenly body