But we have music
When I saw Laurie Doctor’s poem in two alphabets yesterday, it reminded me of what emerged at choir this week. Laurie is a gifted calligrapher, painter,…
Marking time
Some ideas arrive in the form of a dream. ♦ Night is arrogant ♦ particularly if you don’t like winter ♦ but sometimes, as an antidote…
Pathways
Sundays are for living which explains why I neglected to post a found poem yesterday despite my goal of consistency. I spent the day immersed in…
Midwinter mudfest
Winter has receded for now, interrupted by an early snow melt resulting in a festival of mud. The word mud, meaning “moist, soft earth,” can be…
A plea to the gods of lost causes
All knots have their purpose: Reef knots bind, sheet bends join, A bowline is a rescue knot For unclaimed souls and haunted minds. Yet no saint…
I used to be the sun
This mound was once a valley filled with bird song, footfall, the persistent running cascade of the river weir. I used to be the sun. Changes…
Proof of existence
I see hair as proof of existence, a souvenir. A mourned dog, a dreamlike state, a snippet of conversation. The line of light has held. You…
Unburden yourself
Do you know something no one else knows? Practice it until you make it a song that sings you. Don’t pin your silence to a board.…
Such is life
I live in the borderland of grief and joy. It’s tempting to fall apart. I have lived on the lip of insanity. Like a sundial I…
All the words you need
A silent stirring. The spirit of light. Everything is too much. Row. Here are all the words you need—use them wisely. This combistory is a little…