The Pulse of Water

On days when the wind arrives heavy with smells from the North and the Gingko trees start bleeding gold you can stand at the edge of the lake and watch it quietly lap at the shore Sometimes when you close your eyes you can even feel the pulse of the water and all its tender […]

When I Am Not A Lie

“I want to unfold. I don’t want to stay folded anywhere, because where I am folded, there I am a lie.” Rainer Maria Rilke I wake at 6:23 I don’t set an alarm Either my body wakes or the three-year-old satellite that perpetually orbits me enters my atmosphere and crushes me with early morning love […]

In Order That I Might Live

You know the way the wind begins to shift direction once the earth tilts boldly towards the sun How the orange light becomes all liquid Pooling where once there was shadow Its abundance spilling further and further into night And how slowly, the ground begins to rise Swelling with anticipation It is then I throw […]

The Shouldering of Light

Yesterday I woke to light that burned orange through the curtain and birdsong that hung thick among the canopy Dawn was pushing hard through dense fog and the earth felt the strain profoundly and exquisitely In the stillness of that early morning while wrapped in a dull loneliness I recognized Her effort How even the […]

The Slant of Motherhood

As I loosely stare out the window water begins to bead up, heavy and ripe, upon the glass One droplet slides down the pane then another My eyes trace their path each sphere of water now forming a queue on the window sill below Collecting, dispersing, collecting again Fickle We need this rain but I […]