Poetry Blog

A scenic wall calendar / from three decades ago, / pulled from the bottom of a drawer / shows December’s squares / especially crammed with tiny scrawls / about kids’ play rehearsals . . .

When I go to the grocery store / Snag a cart and push down the aisles / A crowd trails behind me / The whole way . . .

They say that, / as the curtain falls on / this one wild and precious life,* / an internal projector / plays a recap / of this romp on the stage . . .

Daydream with me of a world / Where everyone can see / How connected we really are / Tiny diamonds on Indra's net . . .

Welcome, pilgrim. / Lay down your burdens with your luggage. / Neglect your phone as you have neglected quiet. . . .

I am a honeybee / And my business is beauty / I am irresistibly drawn to / Color, fragrance and sweetness . . .

Let me slay my illusion of isolation / It is a lie I have believed / Let me smash it on the hard tile floor / And neglect to sweep up the shards . . .

This life can seem so random / as if you came spurting out of your mother's body / into a swirling pool where you floated around . . .

... Shame is contagious / It is passed down, parent to child / in cutting words and / explosions of rage ...

In this new year, I promise that I will let myself get carried away by my passion projects, to lose all sense of time or . . .