Going Back

Going Back


Feet padding straight
down the hall
into the nightmare
itself without stopping


We scoop great purple
handfuls of it onto
our heads, its sour
benediction sharp
on the tongue.


whine shave and a haircut, two bits

we begin again, but
only now 
after the wine
after the fire


Deep.
The hollows of winter
come again.
Memories, unbottled, scurry
themselves into the corners and snicker.
Orphans swarm the leaves
and are eaten by ladybugs.
Man noise rattles the aspens.


I am one who consumes.
I eat my words
and everything else.


Still we begin again
The day begins again




This is why we train, I think.  We train not so we get somewhere with something, or so that we accomplish something, but so that we learn we must always go back and begin again.  I couldn't run for three weeks because of a flu that wouldn't go away, and still I picked up my shoes and began again this week, huffing, puffing, and trudging down the street.  I might have a meditation session where for the whole ten minutes I think only of the new eyeshadow I want to try.  And still I will meditate again today, and will maybe have a few minutes of quiet.  I use harsh words with my girls, forgetting how much more powerful and effective love is.  Still I will try again to come to them with love.  We train not to move forward, but so that we don't forget to always come back.  To always try again.

A Thin Man with a Knife

Another good way to start the day is with a morning poem.  I'm surrounded by amazing, beautiful poets who keep me stocked up in good poetry, and I'm so blessed for that.  These women are my favorite poets, certainly.  But I also continue to be drawn to Bly's Morning Poems (come to think of it, I'm often drawn to male poets, singers, artists...is that saying something?  Or is it mere coincidence?  I'll have to think on that...).

Anyway, this was my poem for today, from Bly:

WOUNDING OTHERS

Well I do it, and it's done.
And it can't be taken back.
There's a wound in my chest
Where I wounded others.

But it will knit, or heal, in time.
That's what you say.
And some that I wounded
Claim:  "I am the better for it."

Was it truth-telling or
A think man with a knife?
The wound will close, or heal
In time.  That's what you say.

Gratitude

This poem popped in my head the morning before Thanksgiving.  I was so excited that my brother and his wife were coming to visit, and so glad our friends would be with us.  And this weird little thing just appeared.  So, for posterity:


GRATITUDE

It was you who hand-pressed the gown

of Marilyn Monroe,

caught the sequin dangling from her hip, pleated

the chiffon back in place                       

            buried

your nose in its timeless smell.

[you are the timeless]

You are the first breath of

my first born, the squall

of life

breaking the ribcage open

to the world, filling my heart

with your heart.

[you, my heart]

You are dust in the eye of Hannibal           

The wake of ocean liners

The clack of the time clock punched

over and over again

The inverted lid at Ellis Island

The pull of the jackpot.

[you are the jackpot]

You are all things

something

no thing

You are gifts flown here on

the wind, gifts always been.

No.

Not gifts at all.

But evidence that life begets life,

and wills itself to be good.

[you

are

good]

Day Like Johnny Cash

A little poem, for finishing out the semester on:

Today was a day like Johnny Cash
started out talking, smoothlo
stacatto
sure.

But then the curtain pulled in and
I was lying on the floor
The room spun and
I couldn't find my guitar.

Today was a day like Johnny Cash.
There was that time I put my fist
up in his mouth and shouted
HOW DO YOU DO?

And there was that other time
I walked the line.
It doesn't seem like it but
I struggle to make up my mind.

Today was a day like Johnny Cash
and I'm the one that survived.
I'm the one for whom things
is easy.
I've got June, a place, my faith.

Today was a day like Johnny Cash.
When it all came to pass anyway and
my voice rumbled low and
my fingers played the train and
only the beat noticed
and went on.