agape
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I.What of your walk today will you remember?No great blue heron fished in the reeds, through the ice, like that day last winter.You saw no friend you rarely see: none butthose you usually pass and nod to.Who will remember today at all, other thanhow ordinary it was:surely the water rests in the coveand dandelions in…
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I. Standing, feet naked to the earth. Walking, the sensation of flow from heel along the outer edge of sole to outer ball, inner ball, the rhythm of it. Like the sleek shifting weight of a running cougar: the ripple and the grace in the movement. Touching ground, bending knee, taking weight, pushing off, finding…
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Do astronomers not name the stars behind the stars, the ones they can’t see? Do they believe an eclipse can actually block light, that even a source of light may be too solid to let light through? No, I’ve heard, they can see what’s hidden, as light bends like water around river rock. Electromagnetic radiation…
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This poem, “Feathers,” was published by the new & lovely “Tiny Seed Literary Journal.” It’s just a taste of the poems in Preliminary Visions, which is in stock at Books on the Square in Providence: https://www.booksq.com/book/9781947003750.
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Heart of Flesh Literary Journal published my (quite Buddhist) riff off TS Eliot’s “Ash Wednesday;” a twist on the binding of Issac; and a parallel between of Noah’s sea level rise and modern scientists’ prophesies, in poems called, respectively, “Ash Wednesday;” “Anticipating the Akedah Moment;” and “What a Fragile Earth it is without a God./What…
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Lying on the beach that one moment, mouth agape, cheek and belly to sand, my skin seemed to fly away the way foam flies from water, the way a curtain parts in a gust. Where we touched, no obstacle separated the earth’s substance and my own: within both we breathed in a commons of space,…
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Awed by Rick Benjamin’s read of my chapbook: You have to start with the title of Karina Lutz’s new collection: as if you’ve just happened upon a small group of rabbis engaged in a deep conversation about the Catholic mass. Always open to interpretation, on the one hand; closed dogma on the other. Past this…