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on poetry collections from the library

  ON POETRY COLLECTIONS FROM THE LIBRARY As I open each offering I can’t help but be stunned. How are the pages still so white? The spines so unbroken? If this were mine, not borrowed, how I would dog- ear page after page, how I would crack each binding until the heart of it splayed open! I suspect this pristine condition a symptom of want for wear,  but then a flicker, something like hope sparks inside me, and I join a communion with the reverent.

The Stand Still (a Mary Oliver Copy Change)

Rosemerry Wahtolha Trommer once told me if it’s true, the opposite is also true. That inspired me to try this take on Mary Oliver’s The Journey. Enjoy! THE STAND STILL Everyday you really don’t know what you have to do and you stop, though the voices within you keep whispering their good advice— Though part of the house ceases to tremble, and you feel the new-nothing tug at your spine. “Break your death!” Each voice exhales. But you don’t move. You don’t know what you have to do though the water seeps with all its twinkling toes through the very foundations. Though their joy is delighting. It is not yet late enough, and a calm day and your chair, empty of fallen leaves and sand. And leap by leap, as you bring your voices in closer, the stars soften their burn over the cloudless clear and there is the oldest voice there ever was which impulsively you mistake as your own that abandons you as you stay further and further away from the world, uncertain about doing the many things you could...

Cancer Moon

I have not felt this good in what feels like forever and I’m afraid to go to sleep because what if it’s gone when I awake?

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