Tag: #poetry
-
Another 7×7 poem February Sunset Heater blasting hottest air seat warmer radiating— knuckles whiten on the wheel as Neptune’s tail lashes hard; it is three degrees below— my heart catches fire watching this sunset through driving snow.
-
I recently heard Pauletta Hansel, a wonderful Cincinnati poet, read some of her work. A series she read introduced me to a form I’d never heard of before: the 7 x 7, also known as a “49-er” by some. The form is simple, 7 syllables per line, 7 lines. I really loved how her 7x7s…
-
To the churning of the world How my brain flares as I dream of you, electric spark illuminating songbirds fast asleep, hidden in branches dark a single egg met a particular sperm in warm depths and became you a miracle like every seed sprouting green from the loam now your eyes widen at the whispered…
-
To the pond Yes, I’m boiling over I’m stirring the pot, I walk, listening for the howler monkeys their silence echoes across the silver sky A red-tailed hawk and a flock of sparrows whisper in my muffled ears: to the pond, to the pond, to the pond words skipping like stones across water like a…
-
Alive like a stream When I was Lainey I played with iron shavings— scattered them all across the Formica countertop Mama handed me the big magnet, lucky horseshoe-shaped. I gasped as the slivers danced, alive like a stream, drawn to me I felt magical God-like, even. Delighted, oh so powerful, but then: I developed a…
-
Influence Early stargazers coined the word influence to describe how ethereal fluid ‘into us flowed’ changing destiny: starlight, steering us think of starlight flowing, think of it with me: a glimmering river of it flowing, washing into black velvet voids filling the endless emptiness changing darkness to insight— pixie dust of healing invisible oftentimes but—…
-
Singing to the sky On Christmas, I give Annalee flowers, and she tells me how her friend’s husband shot himself, how she found his body— she tells me how it looked, but I won’t say At the nursing home, Jo Marie tells me her son doesn’t visit anymore her eyes shine like marbles when she…
-
Shavasana at noon Feel the golden light, he said and I felt it, spilling over me golden as sunlight through the honeybear on the kitchen windowsill on a bright October morning You are held, he said. Let yourself go. I let go— sink into the waiting arms of my mother, who sinks into warm earth…
-
Howler monkeys howl sing lonesome songs in the rain— carry me away
-
High tide in yoga class Now it’s time to let go of anything that does not serve you, she says I sink into the stretch Breathe in peace Breathe out pain Harp music: a lullaby melody Hush a bye, don’t you cry… I hear my long-ago self crooning, round baby latched to my breast Blacks and bays, dapples…
eeo 