Acts of Forgetfulness

Every week or so I harvest a few of the micropoems I wrote that week, often inspired by nature or writing prompts (such as @Microprompt and @WrittenRiver on Twitter). Sometimes I try to weave them together thematically.

celloI’ll never forget
it was just one autumn ago
in a hot valley ripe
with summer’s fruits
I tasted a strawberry so sweet
a fire erupted in my heart
that I couldn’t contain

resistance was futile
so I let it burn

To everything (burn, burn, burn)
There is a season (burn, burn, burn)

(Moral of the story: be careful what you eat)

they warned of big storms
grey clouds and heavy winds
but a blue sky
blew in
and a friendly fall sun
whispered: gothcha!

now the dams have fallen
a wild autumn torrent
finally flowing

Everybody’s like: What drought?

Once upon a Time
I had limbs
attached to a torso
that had a belly

I remember a gut
stitched with
moving towards
things outta reach
like a sunflower turning skyward

they arose within me
like a cello
sustaining a low B
a piccolo
dancing merrily in fanciful flight

from time to time,
a flame goes out
until I realize:
I merely stepped outside myself
in an act of forgetfulness

Haiku for Liberation

in every moment
a split-second to decide:
to open or close

Sometimes I forget which is better

Ear to the Ground

icebergI’ve been having apocalyptic dreams lately. you know, just run-of-the-mill-end-of-the-world type stuff. the old is dying & the new is being born. it is the story of the universe. maybe if you’re like me, you feel it but it doesn’t seem acceptable to feel it or express it. it’s OK. In fact, I think we have to feel it in order for the next steps in our evolution. I’ve been allowing myself to feel into my grief about the dying of the current order.

I put my ear to the ground
the other day
and heard the most astonishing thing:

it was the sound of an Old Order dying

it was like a mile-long ‘berg
calving from its

crepitating into the cold sea

like bees
falling to the ground
the absence of their buzz
louder than a jet engine

like the grumble of the rising sea
lapping at the city’s feet

like an economic system
built on gambling and greed
not compassion and need
crashing into limits

like the roar of the typhoons
and shifting monsoons
the burning of oil
the cracking  of soil
the earth quaking
and hearts breaking
the cries of the displaced
and species erased

if you put your ear to the ground
perhaps you can hear it too

Dancing Between Raindrops

dance-in-raineach time she giggles
in between high notes
singing arias

between raindrops
to avoid getting wet
like a witch’s trick

skips across the grass
with her tongue out
to taste the world

I see her

and fall for her
yet again

by the force of her
fierce open heart

Image Credit:

Graveyard Meditations

img_2376flurry of fall thoughts
like leaves of apricot trees
scattered over graves

I’ve spent some time everyday for the last week or so walking and sitting in a nearby cemetery.

During Sunday’s big storm, the first big rainfall of the season, I sat in the graveyard apricot orchard just enjoying the new blessing of water.

When I told someone about it, they said, “Well, that’s just sad.”

Yet it has been grounding and nourishing. It really puts things into perspective and helps me to appreciate everything that I have and everyone in my life. It reminds me that no one gets out alive, so rather than grimness, it evokes gratitude.

Far Wiser

tree-big-rootsI’m listening
to these oak roots
searching for water
in soil where gorgeous worms
make their home

to these leaves
soaking sunlight
secreting sugars
feeding expansion

these delicious aromas
traveling the world
on invisible currents

the seeds splitting open
at just the right time
when the perfect warmth arrives

all these
are far wiser than me

I’m listening