Friday, April 25, 2014


Sticking with the familiar form, and a topic that's become very familiar to me.


As days pass, I grow
more aware of the weight of
them, wanting to slow them down,

each one glimmering
and fading, a chain of rain
drops, reflecting little worlds.

Tuesday, April 22, 2014

Morning Commute

Today, I offer my daily internal monologue in quasi-poetic form.

Morning Commute

Get out of my way, lady.
Oh lady, get out of my way.
Get out of my way, lady.

Every time I change at Gallery Place
I die a little inside,
herded among the somnambulant masses.

Every morning, the river shows me
another side of itself,
and every morning, I am grateful.

Monday, April 21, 2014


I'm three days behind, so here's three poems on my favorite topic, Resurrection, written on my balcony by candlelight.  I started out thinking I was doing sedokas but ended up doing pairs of 5-7-5 rather than 5-7-7. I'm sure anyone still reading is scandalized by my break with form. :^)


Hurl yourself again
at love... scarred, fatalistic.
Russian Roulette, right?

Stare down the shadows.
Generate your own light. Try
again and again.

Two thousand years is
a long time, but this morning
I'm only aware

of the hope I feel.
Cynicism is boring,
small-minded nonsense.

I have lost count of
my deaths and resurrections.
So many rebirths.

You are the graceful
Presence hovering over
it all, comforting.

Friday, April 18, 2014

Viernes Santo

So tonight I went to a Spanish language Good Friday service. This is an attempt at a poem about that in my terrible, terrible Spanish.

Viernes Santo

Anoche, yo entiendo solamente
que quiero estar aqui,
con Usted,
con la gente que quiere solamente
estar aqui tambien.

Todos nosotros estamos orando
delante de Usted,
estamos con ganas de que
nos escucha,
y nos da su paz.

En este momento,
no hay nada mas importante,
solo eso:
para que Usted vengas,
y pronto.
Estamos esperando por Usted.

Wednesday, April 16, 2014


I think about illness a lot. Growing up, my Mom was sick a lot, one of those people who have always been susceptible to sickness. She had a lot of "invisible" things --chronic fatigue syndrome, fibromyalgia-- that a lot of people (including doctors) dismiss as not being "real diseases", but which are nonetheless very real to those who suffer them.  I didn't understand them when I was growing up, but now that I've suffered nearly two years with a series of symptoms that no one can diagnose, I get it.

Of course, visible illnesses are invisible, too. I don't know why we're supposed to act like everything's cool when we don't feel well, but we are.  I think that doctors and nurses are heroes for opting to spend their lives looking directly at what we are encouraged to ignore, to see the sick and suffering, to try to understand, to help.

So. This is a tanka (of course) about sickness.


Blessed are the sick,
bodies shaking, bent, in pain.
The LORD God sees them.

When we don't want to look, He
sees them, and offers Presence.