tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75281369654603358372024-03-20T20:21:10.037-07:00Writing BlockA Collection of Poems and ThoughtsUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger24125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7528136965460335837.post-23066617288169117152013-07-23T15:37:00.001-07:002014-02-01T18:32:09.446-08:00<div class="mobile-photo">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyMk0Tw2wMI3QZmqHzkp_2lOeacn73LOCyjOejZRl_rf6l68OOK6mLLJVIGQBFmDK2BeZKqRBpWN7-NpSTXoKCfL46Qt4JwhDt9CVXIcWQJnjnr2vh3exUGvn3bYEXpHPQqJhZZVkY4P-e/s1600/photo-743018.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyMk0Tw2wMI3QZmqHzkp_2lOeacn73LOCyjOejZRl_rf6l68OOK6mLLJVIGQBFmDK2BeZKqRBpWN7-NpSTXoKCfL46Qt4JwhDt9CVXIcWQJnjnr2vh3exUGvn3bYEXpHPQqJhZZVkY4P-e/s320/photo-743018.JPG" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5903943835801484130" /></a></div>
<br />
It was like landing on a pillow, our feet softly rooted in the silk
sand, <br />
horizon that reached until the end of the earth. We were like
lizards.
<br />
Nothing could make us leave until the sinking, the last spot of sun.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7528136965460335837.post-2997483791965222802013-07-09T18:24:00.001-07:002013-07-09T18:24:03.324-07:00you
<style>
<!--
/* Font Definitions */
@font-face
{font-family:"MS 明朝";
panose-1:0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0;
mso-font-charset:128;
mso-generic-font-family:roman;
mso-font-format:other;
mso-font-pitch:fixed;
mso-font-signature:1 134676480 16 0 131072 0;}
@font-face
{font-family:"Cambria Math";
panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:auto;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;}
@font-face
{font-family:Cambria;
panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:auto;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:-536870145 1073743103 0 0 415 0;}
@font-face
{font-family:Didot;
panose-1:2 0 5 3 0 0 0 2 0 3;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:auto;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:-2147483545 0 0 0 507 0;}
/* Style Definitions */
p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-unhide:no;
mso-style-qformat:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
margin:0in;
margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:"MS 明朝";
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
.MsoChpDefault
{mso-style-type:export-only;
mso-default-props:yes;
font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:"MS 明朝";
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
@page WordSection1
{size:8.5in 11.0in;
margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in;
mso-header-margin:.5in;
mso-footer-margin:.5in;
mso-paper-source:0;}
div.WordSection1
{page:WordSection1;}
-->
</style>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Didot;">I so miss </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Didot;">my spot in your bed, </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Didot;">our early mornings, late
mornings,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Didot;">me sneaking out for a run </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Didot;">then coming back to your
sleeping legs around me</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Didot;">and the way the wind comes
through the windows </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Didot;">and turns the chestnut tree
leaves around </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Didot;">in front of the house. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Didot;">People are starting to walk
by </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Didot;">with their dogs and coffees.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Didot;">They have no idea how much
is happening </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Didot;">inside our little womb. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Didot;">How many little kisses</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Didot;">we breathe</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Didot;">then miss </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Didot;">as soon as they’re gone. </span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7528136965460335837.post-4582555582475033952013-07-08T15:19:00.000-07:002013-07-08T15:19:21.511-07:00sister
<style>
<!--
/* Font Definitions */
@font-face
{font-family:"MS 明朝";
panose-1:0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0;
mso-font-charset:128;
mso-generic-font-family:roman;
mso-font-format:other;
mso-font-pitch:fixed;
mso-font-signature:1 134676480 16 0 131072 0;}
@font-face
{font-family:"MS 明朝";
panose-1:0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0;
mso-font-charset:128;
mso-generic-font-family:roman;
mso-font-format:other;
mso-font-pitch:fixed;
mso-font-signature:1 134676480 16 0 131072 0;}
@font-face
{font-family:Cambria;
panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:auto;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;}
/* Style Definitions */
p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-unhide:no;
mso-style-qformat:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
margin:0in;
margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:"MS 明朝";
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
.MsoChpDefault
{mso-style-type:export-only;
mso-default-props:yes;
font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:"MS 明朝";
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
@page WordSection1
{size:8.5in 11.0in;
margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in;
mso-header-margin:.5in;
mso-footer-margin:.5in;
mso-paper-source:0;}
div.WordSection1
{page:WordSection1;}
-->
</style>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
You were always a willing accomplice.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You taught me how to be a mermaid when I swam,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
how to crocodile my feet in bed to keep me safe,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
how to get rid of the ghosts behind the door. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Later, when I had no door, we made a bed on your floor </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and I camped out, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and the laughter was our door, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
an indestructible castle wall.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I watch you now, a bit behind you.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I watch the way you run, and climb.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You’ll never run fast enough to get away. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You can’t climb away from you.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNkBjx3s-D2NDTItEGy2ST21MpdWGjAi4rb7zsrBu8TyDO-clmVwOcOaKRZe1j5IaHXEZjeclgUOB-o3ZgyIpoQs1sALnkqjAhg_C1yx326D-DmAxgt7XwptHkCZJAS50whuk2hmTXqUiI/s1600/marissa+and+me.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNkBjx3s-D2NDTItEGy2ST21MpdWGjAi4rb7zsrBu8TyDO-clmVwOcOaKRZe1j5IaHXEZjeclgUOB-o3ZgyIpoQs1sALnkqjAhg_C1yx326D-DmAxgt7XwptHkCZJAS50whuk2hmTXqUiI/s320/marissa+and+me.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7528136965460335837.post-27506856373610236112012-02-28T17:58:00.003-08:002013-07-01T22:21:15.573-07:00Now<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhns81xdACZxzFq8dCAy0K_JTuFwEyy3iIfb3TjA_DP0FZBre_tVd46uDiBrwBoH8roLjmRWmwzD41t4KAVj6HlOIFsBQCof_WZ-GRtFooebjG6JKywX6uyUXzZUMVGxXACvNM0zUMV5mh7/s640/pictures4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhns81xdACZxzFq8dCAy0K_JTuFwEyy3iIfb3TjA_DP0FZBre_tVd46uDiBrwBoH8roLjmRWmwzD41t4KAVj6HlOIFsBQCof_WZ-GRtFooebjG6JKywX6uyUXzZUMVGxXACvNM0zUMV5mh7/s640/pictures4.jpg" /></a></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7528136965460335837.post-28341410687680403852012-01-21T01:18:00.003-08:002012-03-01T23:26:30.628-08:00Brave bear<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwz6UrjcVgZiPW3Bef6mlBPPPVo7iNKXZK33W3VZtrvAiIVz-ZDvqLBT5jVKA8WMdQneBVglQWdPNcE7hyphenhyphen-_Mj2bqV9a9tkeKNpscSmnGTspEoqC3WnipxM4k2MAK5xNhIRlFLzqkJFqVd/s1600/brave_bear.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwz6UrjcVgZiPW3Bef6mlBPPPVo7iNKXZK33W3VZtrvAiIVz-ZDvqLBT5jVKA8WMdQneBVglQWdPNcE7hyphenhyphen-_Mj2bqV9a9tkeKNpscSmnGTspEoqC3WnipxM4k2MAK5xNhIRlFLzqkJFqVd/s200/brave_bear.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
with the cold wind at your back,<br />
the thin quiet. <br />
<br />
The way you march through thick forest <br />
and keep the song you sing <br />
inside you<br />
<br />
tucked away <br />
like a locket.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7528136965460335837.post-16912743045378829322012-01-18T00:40:00.006-08:002012-02-25T21:39:33.930-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixAIQ48XrC9Xp7x4cFCncptGjAcc3jwrMlrtgzF3pr2KxeabExl87de_1sA2kaIWJI9tWknJQDxDvkUGXKk-7-LAV6OSIAf3TZ6JjXrS3pR1vbn53_c0pPWCCs4WlTEVLv2lpoWvCCiEzq/s1600/HeartFlower.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="152" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixAIQ48XrC9Xp7x4cFCncptGjAcc3jwrMlrtgzF3pr2KxeabExl87de_1sA2kaIWJI9tWknJQDxDvkUGXKk-7-LAV6OSIAf3TZ6JjXrS3pR1vbn53_c0pPWCCs4WlTEVLv2lpoWvCCiEzq/s200/HeartFlower.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
it's the sound of one heart <br />
opening<br />
<br />
and what's inside.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7528136965460335837.post-42213839882716608792012-01-16T23:58:00.003-08:002012-02-25T21:40:09.188-08:00Dragonfly<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYEpispx57fD7CRk3OAJIjL0Af0P542dCF3KTZgeLvt6vjyErTzetoKbC_eHG-otVKVuvgfEqzkuQsLLy1qhjw0JF0MtM8MvRcwNNwa7il2lnj6sHW-LlfRqHncKvFGGUifgdpkGHnvxq9/s1600/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="214" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYEpispx57fD7CRk3OAJIjL0Af0P542dCF3KTZgeLvt6vjyErTzetoKbC_eHG-otVKVuvgfEqzkuQsLLy1qhjw0JF0MtM8MvRcwNNwa7il2lnj6sHW-LlfRqHncKvFGGUifgdpkGHnvxq9/s320/2.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
Your crossed wings like a star,<br />
your bright glowing colours.<br />
The way your body <br />
is a spear, <br />
and a rainbow.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7528136965460335837.post-57327553970955779592012-01-15T23:22:00.002-08:002013-07-01T22:02:34.746-07:00Hummingbird<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoewW6mF-WDIX4zdrGGtuiOb-P2nuDFA6FJhH6o86PdHBNhCx-HWalm8HII2chX18sKYW2mVNd290ci0eV4CdYK8A84pPVyQeHh0_m8r-Q2uDqb2wSshQsHYbhfq1LPzyIVZS51ag_OnJY/s1600/hummingbird-hover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoewW6mF-WDIX4zdrGGtuiOb-P2nuDFA6FJhH6o86PdHBNhCx-HWalm8HII2chX18sKYW2mVNd290ci0eV4CdYK8A84pPVyQeHh0_m8r-Q2uDqb2wSshQsHYbhfq1LPzyIVZS51ag_OnJY/s320/hummingbird-hover.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Listen to the hummingbird<br />
flap its wings to float.<br />
It leaves a hum you can hear <br />
from yards away. <br />
<br />
It’s the sound of one bird <br />
moving, <br />
of one bird <br />
standing still.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7528136965460335837.post-5705546250594208452012-01-12T00:54:00.008-08:002012-03-13T15:48:53.449-07:00crow<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjixwEk8IMawnVPLAhP4drbQsQEmgAfEPcY8Ida-JcfRZSujPx9ubNwtILB0iqWbWhkq7psqCPkacICqAFrRZ4T0mI0wNvRjghbN9xk8CI-U0Ca2nvGB_Avppm_SV1V-YpTPVwDLFXSiU3D/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="168" width="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjixwEk8IMawnVPLAhP4drbQsQEmgAfEPcY8Ida-JcfRZSujPx9ubNwtILB0iqWbWhkq7psqCPkacICqAFrRZ4T0mI0wNvRjghbN9xk8CI-U0Ca2nvGB_Avppm_SV1V-YpTPVwDLFXSiU3D/s320/images.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
That something so unloved <br />
can will itself<br />
this much <br />
to live.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7528136965460335837.post-67104563076707738612012-01-05T23:41:00.015-08:002012-03-13T15:47:34.452-07:00grade 4Puzzle pieces, instruments <br />
in the coat room,<br />
crumpled paper airplanes<br />
and comic strips,<br />
and plastic straws and stars <br />
that could make a house<br />
or a fort.<br />
<br />
There was a moment. And then <br />
we didn't even notice <br />
the house <br />
in pieces <br />
on the floor.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7528136965460335837.post-47045246153627099842011-12-20T18:28:00.004-08:002012-03-14T23:50:58.048-07:00love this muchIs it the quiet way <br />
the little yellow leaves<br />
on the almost bare tree blow?<br />
<br />
Or how the streetlight <br />
stares a spotlight<br />
at the spidery arms <br />
of this hovering, hunching tree?<br />
<br />
What brings you <br />
to love this much<br />
<br />
as if this world is a picture <br />
someone painted<br />
just for you?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7528136965460335837.post-21059202014803837142011-12-17T22:28:00.003-08:002013-07-01T22:15:23.951-07:00Tree<i></i>Is there anything more magnificent<br />
than the bare-branched tree<br />
that stands<br />
in the thundering windstorm<br />
and shakes?<br />
<br />
Like this one,<br />
how it bends <br />
but doesn't break,<br />
how it digs its roots deep,<br />
how it extends its bony arms.<br />
How it fits itself <br />
just so<br />
into the deep, green forest.<br />
<br />
Can you feel how it is <br />
at once <br />
alone<br />
and still a part <br />
of everything?<br />
<br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7528136965460335837.post-78574964811537751862011-06-06T00:42:00.011-07:002013-07-01T22:16:36.839-07:00There's a story about a girl who saves a village with her singingEveryone in her village is disappearing. <br />
She starts to sing<br />
and discovers it stops the disappearing, <br />
so she keeps singing. <br />
<br />
Soon she knocks on all the people’s doors to sing to them,<br />
and they reappear <br />
and then there are more <br />
until the town is alive again. <br />
<br />
I dream one night it’s true<br />
and I'm her. <br />
<br />
But my family is gone and they won't come back <br />
no matter how much I sing.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7528136965460335837.post-54081554579839319672011-01-02T23:58:00.004-08:002012-02-26T13:25:46.770-08:00The moment starts to meltand uncover its soft white roots<br />
and buried layers <br />
of crimson soot <br />
and soil.<br />
The magic<br />
underneath<br />
<br />
you never saw.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7528136965460335837.post-42973513553412510702010-12-28T16:19:00.002-08:002012-02-26T13:23:56.908-08:00First, there was the moment you couldn’t forgeteven when you tried, <br />
when your insides jumped and scurried,<br />
which was enough. It was just <br />
another hand <br />
on yours, unfolding <br />
a question <br />
you’d never thought to ask.<br />
<br />
It wasn’t long <br />
before your heart <br />
<br />
burst open—<br />
<br />
it was a wild, red fire,<br />
pulsing and beating, like the heart of bird<br />
nestled <br />
in the palm of your hand.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7528136965460335837.post-41960467219552254522010-11-23T21:27:00.010-08:002012-02-26T13:24:45.133-08:00Memory 1Dim kitchen light,<br />
my mother’s lap<br />
and the deep blue walls<br />
around us.<br />
<br />
The way my knees <br />
tucked perfectly over hers<br />
like two limbs swung<br />
over top of a tree branch.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7528136965460335837.post-31695895979705311882010-11-23T21:13:00.005-08:002013-07-01T22:18:25.104-07:00RiverYou twist down forever miles of country field,<br />
call every town you touch your home.<br />
<br />
Your waters seep through roots<br />
that splay out under houses and acres<br />
where memories are kept.<br />
<br />
Each year, pieces pile up on your bed:<br />
words from the neighbours' buried stories.<br />
They've turned to dirt from years underground.<br />
<br />
Great River, Mighty River, cascade<br />
of memories.<br />
<br />
The people don't remember,<br />
but the houses that line your path<br />
are watermarked <br />
with the names<br />
of all their stories.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7528136965460335837.post-55362702577214122082009-05-18T00:12:00.003-07:002010-11-12T17:07:52.423-08:00Wedding photoYour mother’s two hands buckle at her front<br />like a strapped stone. You curl<br />your body away like smoke,<br />melt into his. You don’t know<br />what to call this feeling-<br />after-feeling so you say it’s <span style="font-style: italic;">love</span>.<br /><br />Like a secret set of wings.<br />No one knows if it’s really there.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7528136965460335837.post-47495808573432291832009-02-27T21:45:00.006-08:002009-07-07T17:42:07.066-07:00MigrationNot the fists he holds tightly at his sides,<br />not his puffed-out chest bracing wind<br />or the mast that’s planted behind you both.<br /><br />You’ll try, but<br />none of it—not even your arm<br />slid through his—<br />will be enough<br />to stop<br />this sensation<br />of falling.<br /><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7528136965460335837.post-51912785081024955422009-02-26T08:01:00.008-08:002009-05-18T00:11:58.084-07:00Coil, then unravellingIt’s early morning. Sticky summer air<br />pokes through window-screen holes<br />onto your curled-up body<br />like sun rays on a little spore. <br /><br />Dad pokes his head in<br />to see if you’re up. You bound<br />out of bed, uncurl, follow him, full of sweaty, summer dreams,<br />full of thick sleep.<br /><br />You’ll get older and keep doing this.<br /><br />This life of yours, windblown,<br />will always be like a piece of string<br /><br />coiling, then unravelling in the wind.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7528136965460335837.post-7336068057895774202009-02-21T22:13:00.005-08:002009-02-25T20:38:06.172-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSj85sqr1l-_ngtHrL63UPj7HQd4njkMNtrp-PooAZPmfeZxLM5aBtmtQxSldXoZSBrO7ob7tHN21hK6nf2Uh-hcRqosRKf1R48A82oQkZqjMW_xZ-VCCrAqlTi4H7iNIE5Vi5Q6bjbDVY/s1600-h/bubby.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 230px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSj85sqr1l-_ngtHrL63UPj7HQd4njkMNtrp-PooAZPmfeZxLM5aBtmtQxSldXoZSBrO7ob7tHN21hK6nf2Uh-hcRqosRKf1R48A82oQkZqjMW_xZ-VCCrAqlTi4H7iNIE5Vi5Q6bjbDVY/s320/bubby.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306960422333947282" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Suitcase, knapsack, handbag, box:</span> what you put things in.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Luggage</span>: what you take with you.<br /></div><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /><br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7528136965460335837.post-48154858847672470972009-02-21T07:20:00.020-08:002012-02-26T13:28:25.495-08:00This is how the world is made<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeuA0bpeuk4hu5f_2hi1bixp3b_TJdtAenMCs6ezrFuvzfZV5nMatux9T9ztIxr0z4h9n-hu9pcwSJYmFKDpYXh1ihArzbCh4xExsZiRsJXVI7g5xgRw7NssWbhAvt2qRTp_OJFO54AOlW/s1600-h/dad1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 234px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeuA0bpeuk4hu5f_2hi1bixp3b_TJdtAenMCs6ezrFuvzfZV5nMatux9T9ztIxr0z4h9n-hu9pcwSJYmFKDpYXh1ihArzbCh4xExsZiRsJXVI7g5xgRw7NssWbhAvt2qRTp_OJFO54AOlW/s320/dad1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306210194176888834" border="0" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
After supper, run down patio steps <br />
to where your backyard ends <br />
and the wild forest starts. The air <br />
is thin and cool. <br />
<br />
Animals dart their sparkling eyes<br />
at you like bright, shooting fires. <br />
Black walnuts <br />
and apples sit <br />
scattered at the trees’ feet.<br />
<br />
Touch them.<br />
Their dried-up cores<br />
are still breathing.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7528136965460335837.post-61131055109899144642009-02-10T20:10:00.002-08:002012-03-04T00:24:06.287-08:00Photo paperWe’ll all think the music’s still playing after we go<br />
and we’ll keep singing.<br />
My mother’s smile,<br />
too, will be like a feather she's holding.<br />
It will fall away softly.<br />
We’ll hardly notice.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7528136965460335837.post-88526684123280750552009-02-10T20:09:00.010-08:002012-03-04T00:23:06.632-08:00Sometimes, you wants your life<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"><br />
</span><br />
<br />
To be like you remember it in this picture<br />
of you: starched white dress, socked feet on hot grass.<br />
<br />
You make the picture a place, you forget<br />
it’s just a picture. Not<br />
any more a <span style="font-style:italic;">thing</span><br />
than a locket<br />
in the shape of a heart.<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0);">I think you can look at a photo long enough that the moment changes in your mind. I think you can also do this without a photo.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0