My mother received her heavenly crown in March 2020. This year, Dad was moved to a care facility and recently to hospice. Their house sold last week. They purchased several years ago after Dad retired from decades of serving in the ministry. It was the first house they owned. I reflected recently on my lack … More There was no childhood in that house for me
oh, to live life limberlythe balls of one foot set and centeredknee slightly bentumbrellaed by the other legfloating just sowith arms outstretched holding life lightly, as feather-weight,to pivot and bend and extendhead high and supple spineto animate and ambulate grace no we like to fix our soles to the groundplant the heels and curl the … More Lumbering
How many smoking fingers lifted you to cover the smirk?Power, fixed upon a mask to convertdesolation to inspiration— chemistry in costume—and breathe life through clay. How many wizened eyesfilled the shadowy holes?Gateways littered with blasted brick and bramble, blood and bloat—mourning glories—guarding hope and home. How many defiant mouthsgoaded souls through crumbling maw?Kissed lips, chipped … More What’s your motivation? (a reflection on a clay theatre mask from Oflag VII-A, Murnau)
No one can return to youyour suitcases, worn thin with timenow stacked against a wall in rows— of course — Let me put your shoes on for you…we’ll get you something nice to wear— first let’s get you a coat —cover you up It’s hard to discern nice from right— sometimes — when we’re warmand … More the air is warm
The purposed melody curvesupward — a coo — from paving stonesthrough darkened doorway. Here, a candlestick It travels over tombs and tilesharmonizing eyes in percussive timeslurring, sigh to sigh. Humming a muted song The grandiose melodic arch whirls wide to lift heads as dreams and prayerscrescendo to a whisper. Standing at the altar Ancient orchestration … More descant: a candlestick
The white and pink blossom hinted at honey.Such a small and delicate thing to hold so many memories.Standing as still as the tree — trunk to trunk, root to root —With the sun on my back and a world on my shoulders,An as-it-will breeze ruffled petals and consciousness. A honeybee danced at the corner of … More To simply be
I found the book, oldRipped in half, sittingOn a dusty shelf, alone. Let me correctMyself — I don’t knowAll that was ripped away. There on the last page, danglingA sentence, unfinishedSimply, “I’m going to” Going where or to what?Not even an ellipsis to sayIt didn’t matter. And still… I remember, fleetinglyThe missing pages, misplacedAnd fumble … More I’m going to
an impellent… the funerial hum—skin prickling—plumbed, prodded by pluckingthe deepest heart strings close to the gut as the pulsing core stretches and strains—minor key—a question, like a breeze breathed upon a branch, and an answer a dialogue scoredtime and time again—lingering doubt—questions kept quietfor unspoken answersand wonder the heart is priedat the drawing of strings—a … More the questioning of things: a reflection on Adagio in G Minor
sometimes, the heart rattlesa bit like a glass curio cabinet—clink and tink and clatter— from feet jarring uneven warped floorboards yet, the Glassmith crafted itwell, this asymmetrical shell,cleansed in flame, glistening finials crowning chambers—sanctuaries—from crystalline cross the…(this)…heart breaks but nevershatters into shards; it’s cleavedto crimson velvet—too too solid flesh—;crackling across tempered glass,as if by design; … More curio
This week, Rhea and I had an opportunity to attend the Possibilities: Heginbotham Literary Lecture Series* at Concordia University, St. Paul, MN. I was grateful to visit my alma mater, chat with professors who have become friends, including Dr. Heginbotham, and see students, faculty, and others come together to hear poetry and perspective. This week, … More Reflecting on the poetry collection, “Black Aperture,” by Matt Rasmussen
a tilting of air 