Monday, September 22, 2014

(First day of autumn:)

First day of autumn:
Reading on the porch with a
roast in the Crock-Pot.

Thursday, September 18, 2014

My One Wild and Precious Life

Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?

-- Mary Oliver, "The Summer Day"

My one wild and precious life
does not belong to my
parents or predecessors
nor to my
pastor or priest or preacher or pope.
My one wild and precious life
does not belong to my
or to my
or to my
or the
privileged pillars
of my
patriarchal society.
My one wild and precious life
does not belong to
or to the
"pretty people"
or the
power hungry
or to my
pocketbook, property or prosperity.
My one wild and precious life
does not belong to a
painful or problematic past
or to
or my
propensity for people pleasing
nor to a
profession, promotion or pursuit of prestige.
My one wild and precious life
does not belong to
purveyors of prejudice
or to
peddlers of propaganda
nor to the
principles that someone else holds.
My one wild and precious life
belongs to me
to protect and preserve it,
to pursue peace,
to practice compassion,
and to progress as the particular person I was put on the planet to be.

Thursday, September 04, 2014

My One Wild and Precious Life

My latest piece for The Space Between arts blog is up, featuring my brand new poem "My One Wild and Precious Life."  The work of Mary Oliver, one of my favorite poets, inspired and informed the piece.  Take a look if you like!

Saturday, August 30, 2014

Summer Simplicity

As summer begins to
close her eyes in
exchange for fall's
awakening, I want
to remember these
days; what it feels
like to slip into
sandals, and hop into
the car without a
jacket and drive to
meet some friends
with Tennessee's green
hills in front of me and
the sun on my back.

Wednesday, August 27, 2014

(Just as my fart makes)

Just as my fart makes
its way out, my co-worker
makes her way in to the restroom.

Thursday, August 14, 2014

Twenty-year-old Tweens

My first kiss that counted --
the first pair of
lady lips I latched onto --
was stolen.
We were both good
little Christian girls --
young adults, really --
who had accidentally
started to fall in love.
She drove seven hours south
to spend seven summer days with me,
with my parents' blessing.

Little did they know --
little did we know --
that the previous months of
late-night, collegiate
cuddling and snuggling
would culminate in
lesbian lip-lock at last.

Interwoven on my twin bed
like a French braid,
I leaned in closely
and whispered,
"What would you do if I
kissed you?"
Half taken aback
and half titillated,
she returned my whisper,
"I don't think you should do that."

A split second later,
in my childhood bedroom,
I snatched a kiss
from her full, light brown lips,
as soft and as supple
as a baby's hand.

I leaned back to read
her facial response.
She looked
half shocked and
half pleased.

"You're a good kisser,"
I reported, as the
endorphins surged through my
twenty-year-old tween self.
"You're not so bad yourself,"
she admitted with a sly smile.

Tuesday, August 12, 2014

(The tomato: A)

Although I did not claim a prize in this year's Tomato Haiku Contest, I enjoyed creating entries like this:

The tomato: A
veritable fruit salad --
grapes, plums and cherries