Wednesday, November 26, 2014


There is always even if unseen a perfectly reasonable reason
Now I understand how the light on dying magnolia looks like snow
In the morning equivalent of gloaming

We start with concentric circles from our heart
And if squeezed, becoming defended, we contract
And this pinched up inward drenching/trenching/quenching/squishing
Means our outsides are pulled in

This inward pinch brings issues of control, dominion
And attack because we’re smaller than we’re meant to be.
Anger, and its covert allies, quicken the pulse.
Finally, decades later, the anger slackens
Just for a day or two, enough to realize
How long it’s been there, pinching and defending.
What saved me will kill me if I don’t release
And reembody the extended spheres of being.
It unclenches.
My energy body recoheres.
I expand, and thus can release the dense clutter/tissue/emotional suppression
That I had been working so hard to clench in order to seem nice.

Unspiralwinding wholeness, loose and free.
Once again, my arms flap and bootie shimmies.
Qigong shaking. Happy dancing. Realigning.
To expand from the contraction also strangely brings more space
And also less clogging.

We set out thirty boxes for recycling in the predawn light.
The same light by which the November magnolia leaves
Appear to hold snow.

By a parallel token, twenty-one years after the death of my wife,
To the day, the anger leaves me. This glistening clearing
Purges even those old pains. To say “I am born anew”
Is babafidrious. Exactly so. Breaking through, bud bursting
And also effortless. A form of chrysalis opening. A time of
Butterflying. At last. At last. At last.

November 26, 2014

Monday, November 3, 2014

IMUNURI Prompt: Wordup





Make up a word,

Make it the title of your poem.

Write the poem.

[keywords: wordup, poem, your name]