Despite the danger, I open my heart.
No matter our foibles, I love us together.

This moment in time, this gathering of souls will never repeat.
Long ago, Earth cried lonely, and God sent a fleet
Of shiftless, soulful human beings.

We venerate the pioneers of old,
Human herds wilding west against the wind.
We celebrate the missionaries,
Gaunt-soled, sinking south like candlewax,

What of us?

Each day we rise and ride
Our mechanical horses thus;

Each night we roll up
Our plans, lay our head on partial defeat.

We don’t carry lead; we carry
lived and unlived histories.
Come, pioneer!




Summer Salute

Though evenings thicken earlier each day,
And cold chutes down the drapes to pool in rooms,

Summer’s heat is baked into our bones,
And her beauty raked into late blooms.

Down below to Capricorn she goes,
From now and on brazen-cold wind blows.
We slow our autumn dance to the new beats,
and splash our chilly feet in flannel sheets






So We Dance

Feel the rhythm rising every morning,

Heed the beat that’s knocking on my door.

Though muscles ache and gears are grinding,

I greet a day that’s never come before.

Alors, is coffee brewing?

The throng at Starbucks wait for more.

Drip by drip the queue is waning,

Sip the day with each new pour.





The Edge


Walking through clouds
Of cricket sounds
To the edge of the acre,

We wilt at the clap
And taste the wet slap
Of an oncoming storm.

Here we bare
Our arms and our hair
To the sting of the nettle,

Here we quench
The grasp, the hard clench
Of the human form.






(Celebrating the completion of my first long-form foray,
a meditation on how to live called Fear & Flow)


There’s nothing like completion,
dishes done and dried,
last nail driven into floor of your first house.
Our trips to the hardware store are but a speck
in my rear view mirror.

Come, let’s sit in the house we built,
let’s sip coffee from cups chipped from living.



Summer Project

Dear Reader,

This summer, instead of posting poems, I’m undertaking a project called Shapes of Women on my collaborative art blog:

Shapes of Women Project

“As a custodian for the soul passed down through your mothers, you might make it a little easier for it this time around. Treat it nicely, because it’s had a hard time. This is the first time in generations it can rest, or decide with true liberty what it will to do. So why not treat it with real tenderness? It has been through so much already— why not let it rest?” Sheila Heti

Thanks for your comments and likes over my first year on WordPress. Blogging need not be a lonely endeavour; it is implicitly a group collaboration. And you have made it enjoyable and rewarding.