Oak Trees

A few words of hope :   “Our ordinary mind always tries to persuade us that we are nothing but acorns and that our greatest happiness will be to become bigger, fatter, shinier acorns; but that is of interest only to pigs.  Our faith gives us knowledge of something better: that we can become oak

Divine becomes Diving

  Here’s another poem from my book  Vexed Questions: Typo One slip of the finger and Divine becomes Diving Deep in my dream to the floor of the flooded cellar through a window to the green sheen of chlorine depths of the swimming pool at Lenape Park where I opened my eyes to stinging wonder

I come on the debt again

  Here’s another November poem by W.S. Merwin: “A Debt” I come on the debt again this day in November It is raining into the yellow trees The night kept raising white birds The fowls of darkness entering winter But I think of you seldom You lost nothing you need entering death I tell you

Her cat, God’s experiment in the imagination

  There’s a wonderful folktale from Scotland, called “The Woman Who Flummoxed the Fairies.”  It’s very hard to find, either online or in books. I heard it once in a lecture from the Jung Institute, and it has stayed with me. I wrote a poem from it: Captured by the Fairies Carried off down the

We are saying Thank You

I love this poem by W.S. Merwin: Thanks By W. S. Merwin Listen with the night falling we are saying thank you we are stopping on the bridges to bow from the railings we are running out of the glass rooms with our mouths full of food to look at the sky and say thank

Perhaps the world ends here

art: Michael Lacapa, “At Saiya’s Table”   On Thanksgiving Day in the United States, here’s a poem by the Native American poet Joy Harjo: Perhaps the World Ends Here Joy Harjo The world begins at a kitchen table. No matter what, we must eat to live. The gifts of earth are brought and prepared, set

The road winds out to the end of the west

  Another poem from my book At the Year’s Elbow:   The Lighthouse at Point Reyes   The road winds out to the end of the west, where the west falls into fog, into rock and slate water, startled seals raise their heads out of the slatey sea.   The road winds out to the

Facing the wall of faith

Here’s a poem that appears in my book At the Year’s Elbow:   View From Behind   Tapestries look like battlefields from the back. Threads like soldiers in hand to hand combat – who is most resilient? Arms locked,elbows out, clenched fists of knot scattered like small skirmishes across the expanse. Who is most flexible?

This poem is not about knitting wool

My mother’s best friend was a life-long cigarette smoker, and when she was in her eighties, she had terrible COPD . Then, she had a stroke.  I used to visit her with my mother when I was at home.   Here is a poem I wrote about that.  It appeared in my book At the Year’s

The Inner Life of the Paper Clip

Here’s another poem from my book  Vexed Questions: The Inner Life of the Paper Clip   I’m meditating on the paper clip. A labyrinth with three curved surfaces coiled in upon each other. Silver shines when really it’s the cheapest pliable steel. What does it long to clasp? My students’ work, wet from the rain