(Your love is like a)

Your love is like a

silky ribbon repairing

the breach in my heart.

The Beauty of Music

Unlike former fashions, old albums
never go out of style. I can pop a
CD in the player that smacks of
poodle skirts, bell-bottoms, leg
warmers or leather pants without
worry of how that might reflect on
my personal fashion sense. Music
bursts through barriers of time and
trend. It cannot be contained or
confined to years, decades or centuries.
Music lives on, as long as you play it.

(new year)

new year
new courage
fresh as the snow

Without a Honk

There were four
of them -- four
graceful geese
gliding over 65
North as the four-
lane interstate
backed up
farther and farther
south. In the midst
of the two-accident
Tuesday morning
turmoil, just as I
began to grip my
steering wheel
in frustration, I
saw the quartet
breezing over
all four lanes
of traffic without
a honk of their own --
so soft, so peaceful,
so content; so intent.
I watched them
split into two pairs
and continue on their
January journey,
as I adjusted my
hands and then
my attitude, without
a honk of my own.

Monthly Arts Forum Launch

I am thrilled to announce that, tonight, I will launch a brand new monthly arts forum, Show Your Work, with my friend Andrew Nelson.  I plan to read at least one of my poems tonight and look forward to enjoying the work of fellow artists of all types and stripes.

---------------------

Show Your Work: A Monthly Arts Forum

Every Second Thursday, from 7 to 8:30 p.m.

Out on the Lakeshore, Holland, Mich.

--------------------- 

If you're in the area, please feel free to join us!

(I am like porcelain)

I am like porcelain --

tough and delicate

all at once.

In the Company of Angels

I keep the photo in a box,

the box that my grandmother

gave me one Christmas,

the box that holds a single

glass angel ornament with golden trim.

I tuck the picture

underneath the angel

for safe keeping.

The photograph captures

the Christmas that you

spent with us 18 years ago

in Nashville.

This is the first Christmas

that Grand is no longer with us,

and the first Christmas 

that the two of you,

complete strangers,

will somehow keep each other

company.

Magic in the Making

The first time

I remember hearing live jazz

was in college at the

visiting writers series events.

A trio opened each evening

with a set on the theatre stage

to warm up the audience

for the featured

poets and authors

reading that night.

Sure, I had

heard of jazz

and marveled at the

magical moments

when a jazz club

was included

in episodes of

The Cosby Show

when I was a kid.

But when I first

experienced it live,

there was an

internal stirring

and connection

to the combo's

collaboration and camaraderie.

I was glad to be

in the same room

with the magic making

and the makers of the magic.

Snow Garden

Our yard was a garden
of snow and our father
was the gardener. He
made snow forts and
an obstacle course of
sorts for my sisters and
me in the front yard one
winter. It was an exciting
adventure, and a little
bit scary, but I felt safe
knowing that Dad was
guiding the sled and
guarding the fort. I still
remember his laugh
that day as we squealed
with delight, holding tight
to the orange, plastic sled.