poetry
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pond psalm
On September 12, 2012 | 0 Comments

to speak ofthe divine is to draw a circlearound a picture of a pondand swim –Christopher Janke, Psalterium

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August
On August 31, 2012 | 1 Comments

I like letters. The shapes of them. The contrast between lower and upper case. The dots for the “i” and “j,” crossing “t’s.” I like writing very small. I like putting more than one line of text inside one line of college-ruled paper. I like college-ruled paper. I like a good pen. Not a fancy […]

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Yes, That’s Why
On August 1, 2011 | 0 Comments

Heedless Perhaps we love the shore because the debris here could not be ours no matter how hard our lives. Or because the long shelf of land continues on under the water so even here at the edge of the world the edge is uncertain. Perhaps we love that the water rises to uncertain levels […]

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Immortal Diamond
On April 6, 2010 | 5 Comments

Oh, Reader. Are you here at all? I’m not. Hardly ever, anyway. Not writing blog posts and scarcely reading them these days. I could offer up explanations and excuses, could go into what kind of writing I am doing these days or what I’m thinking about writing, anyway. I could tell you the story of […]

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And Again (Surprised?)
On December 25, 2009 | 0 Comments

from spiralling ecstatically this proud nowhere of earth’s most prodigious nightblossoms a newborn babe:around him, eyes-gifted with every keener appetitethan mere unmiracle can quite appease-humbly in their imagined bodies kneel(over time space doom dream while floats the whole perhapsless mystery of paradise) mind without soul may blast some universeto might have been, and stop ten […]

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though i have closed myself as fingers
On April 28, 2009 | 0 Comments

i am, again today, this (closed) and would have you knowthat i am (or would be) sealedupagainsteverything but for hope in(and recollection of) Those Hands: (may i publish it here? again?) (–rebecca) somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyondany experience,your eyes have their silence:in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,or which i cannot […]

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Garden Days
On April 20, 2009 | 3 Comments

Lately I’ve been in the garden. I love this. I love the smell of the dirt and getting dirty and leaving a patch of earth better than when I found it. We have a wonderful yard here in North Carolina, one that was landscaped long ago with several different garden beds and Places For Planting. […]

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Too Late
On March 31, 2009 | 0 Comments

My friend The Swede sent me this one Just Today. She sends wonderful poems. And for the world of memory that is always tugging at the corners of my mind, this one seemed particularly appropriate. We are Always Too Late MemoryIs in two parts. First the re-visiting: the way even now I can seethose lovers […]

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Suppose
On February 12, 2009 | 1 Comments

supposeLife is an old man carrying flowers on his head. young death sits in a cafesmiling, a piece of money held betweenhis thumb and first finger (i say “will he buy flowers” to youand “Death is younglife wears velour trouserslife totters, life has a beard” i say to you who are silent.– “Do you seeLife? […]

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Angels and Haloes and Parallel Shafts of Sun
On September 26, 2008 | 0 Comments

Tonight, to save myself from exhaustion (and how can you be exhausted, one might reasonably question, when you are not teaching, as your students are away on the camping trip you are supposed to be on? to which my answer can only be a guess: that the infection my body is fighting somewhere in the […]

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