sometimes when
I am alone
only the stars are visible
in the empty darkness
my mother’s laughter
twinkles from Heaven
and I feel the
narrowness
of my grief
The Narrowness of Grief
Breathless Heaven
only the stars are
visible when
the trees close their
eyes and lift
their leaves
in prayer
when this
pinhole light
of heaven
seeps down
breathing song
into leaf
into branch
into trunk
into forest
when shimmery
halo glitter
of ancestral
angels
cascades down
swaying waves
into oceans
into lakes
into streams
and creeks
for all the world
to hear
the music
of hope
for all those
still here
who listen
**first lines inspired by words photographed at The Immersive Titanic Exhibit in Atlanta, Georgia last weekend
Invitation to My Barbed Wire and Fig Picking Party
if y’ain’t never
took down no
barbed wire
fence with
reg’ler pliers
and a tractor
bucket, yer
invited to the
barbed wire
party next
weekend ~
c’mon,
y’all – free
pickin’ of
the last of
the figs ~ and
don’t forgit
to dust yer
socks for
ticks ’cause
them deer
ticks’ll
keep you
itchin’
in places you
didn’t know
were there
Lines
it messes with my
mind and heart, these
Titanic exhibits like
the one in Atlanta,
the Immersive
Experience
(no pun intended,
I’m sure, but I’d
have chosen a
different name)
I learned about the
Titanic as a child when
an elderly couple in
our church were
on the next boat out
late for their honeymoon
on the Titanic ~
the Testers, Mr. and Mrs.,
lived because they were
late, and for all the
cussing I might have
muttered missing my boat,
I’d have learned a
thing or two about
what it means to
let things go
and move on
I can’t imagine the terror
inside the hearts on
those lifeboats
all the loved ones
watching their own
sink to their deaths
in freezing darkness
as they rowed on
I wonder if F. Scott
Fitzgerald started
at the end of Gatsby
and then went to the
beginning to start
again
so we beat on
boats against the current
borne back
ceaselessly into
the past
which is why I
began taking photos
of snippets of
lines in the exhibit
wondering what
poems might
emerge, turning the
grief back to joy
Back-to-School Nightmare
It doesn’t matter what
the role in education,
whether teacher or coach
or media specialist or
administrator: one truth
holds true. I learned it
in the 1990s from my
partner teachers. The
back-to-school
nightmares hit hard
and on time. The world
of dreams mysteriously
knows that school for
students starts here
Monday, so last night
I was walking a class
down a hall of a
school I’d never seen
and lost them all
on the first day.
They were second
graders. I haven’t
taught a classroom
of second graders
since 2003, but
here I was in my
nightmare, losing
every one of them,
wandering the halls
and calling for them,
knowing I’d be fired
when their mothers
showed up, but
finally discovering they
had all gone to the
library. I stepped
into the murky
haze of the dream
to find they were
all reading books,
scattered all
across the floor
in their own quiet
spaces, not one
saying a word.
And I realized:
my nightmare
had become my
best back-to-school
dream ever.
I chose a book
and collapsed into
the library couch to
read, too
I learned this last night:
when you’re having
a night terror, look for
the library. It turns
nightmares into dreams.
The Lunch Tickets
we had a third grade
bully who kicked our
shins with her
wooden clogs
and pulled our hair
so we came up
with a plan to
steal her lunch
tickets she
bought on
Mondays for
35 cents each
and turned in for
the count each
day
she was a
child of addiction
poverty without
a mother ~ but a
grandmother
raising her
working hard
to make ends
meet for this
girl, angry at
the world
and not enough
clogs and
shins to fix it
and now
that I see life
from this side
I feel
deep sorrow
for our theft
because we
only hurt
grandma
and our
future
selves
who would
come to
know the
truth
100-Syllable Book Cover Reveal
that moment when you
see your book cover
for the first time with
your group of writing
friends and hold back tears
for all the waiting,
for all the writing,
for all the hours spent
anticipating
what you always but
never dreamed so real
and possible and
finally right here
here it is, set to
launch September 2
stay tuned for the link
to our stories, to
our wounds, to our hearts,
to our healing words
Cheers for Words That Mend!
Heat Advisory
we cancelled
camping
for the heat
advisory
so I asked
what we’d do ~
take a tour
of Kroger’s
freezer section?
stand in Sam’s
where they sell
the milk and butter?
take cool comfort
in the movie
theater?
we talked
we discussed
we decided
we bought tickets
to the Immersive Titanic
exhibit in Atlanta
we’ll wear jackets
and talk through
chattering teeth
counting the minutes
back to the heat
Tsundoku Tricube
Tsundoku,
I tell you!
‘s what I do
you know who
runs this zoo
not too few
‘s nothing new
my books were
overdue
A tribe is a poem with three stanzas, each with three lines, each with three syllables
Dreamland B&B
his wife has auburn curls
and never enough
cookbooks
he owns a farmland B&B
with steps down
into the kitchen
where he’s made cinnamon
rolls early
strong coffee
leading the way
kitchenward
where we ponder
all the possibilities
of the day
without
deadlines
we sip on
our own
schedule
Common Threads 