Toasts

On this beautiful day
draped in regalia
and the echoes of droning speeches
our story concludes
with the toasts we didn’t make

To that tease of a thesis
who kept taunting you
until the last possible moment
when she finally got dressed
and made it on time

To the lecherous advisor
who finally backed off
during your senior year

For the untold hours
spent holding hands
watching the IV drip
because her parents
wouldn’t understand

To the vapid electeds
who waited to undermine
higher education
until you walked

To the girlfriends
who used reliable birth control

For running out of champagne
before Gramps got too loopy

May we all die in the proper order
May our suits always fit so well

Truly Alive

Ackkkkk! It's a beautiful day in our little town but the work was piling up so I snuck in to the office catch up on some things. Even so, there is nothing like a poetry break to invigorate the senses...


Through these high rise windows
I stare at the joy of smiling dogs
catching sailing disks
little ones practicing the May pole dance
runners with endorphin highs

There’s a woman today
who seems too old to swing
but she’s doing it anyway
getting really high

Her face is filled with joy
so much that I want to go out there
drink in her contagious smile
invite her to stop
so I can give her a big hug

The kind of hug that says
thank you for sharing
and steer clear of careers
where the only possible joy
is staring at verdant parks
at others who are truly alive

NW Poets' Concord

On Saturday I had the rare pleasure of attending the NW Poets' Concord in Newport, Oregon. In its third year, there were about 100 poets in attendance. It was a real treat to look around the room and note "I had a class from her" or "I just read his book and it rocked" or "he's the guy who sent me that one rejection letter last year." Oregon is a small, mostly rural state but we are blessed with an abundance of creative talent.

I especially enjoyed serving on a panel for a discussion about political poetry, along with Marianne Klekacz, at the invitation of friend and poet Catherine McGuire. It was our intention to stir things up and from every indication, we were successful.

Done

April is over and with it National Poetry Writing Month, the challenge of writing a poem a day. I managed to write 40 original poems - still having trouble with directions, I suppose. I'll probably back off on the writing a little and do some serious re-writing, as most of these were written in less than seven minutes. Some are truly dreadful and others might look better with a good bath and a hot meal. We'll see.

Ode to the Partners of Poets

We wake up and gently reach over
your silken bare shoulders
for the notepad that captures our dreams

When you’re thinking romance
we’re thinking Petrarchan sonnets

You rarely have our full attention
as we scribble on napkins
and read back snarled lines

As you hear our torrid Sestina
the one that makes your heart pound
you briefly pause to wonder
last Valentine’s Day at the cabin?
or daydream of the latte’ girl at Starbucks?

Once April arrives
you’ve already made a list
of good books and films
you’ll have to see alone

Our husbands, wives, and lovers
here’s to you
for all you endure


[prompted by Poetic Asides]

A Fine Line

[From a Poetic Asides Prompt, Falling]

Having survived the best and the worst of dreams
grizzly looking in the tent
nailing the Idol audition
naked dissertation defense
it took reading Ryan and Jong
a few months on the running trails
and the steadfast support
of family and friends
for her to learn the fine line
that separates falling and flying

Unity Prayer

Based on a half-life of travel
long hikes from the vortexes of Sedona
to the wet cliffs of Moher
the top of the stairs at St. Peters
to the Tsing Shan Monastery

It’s abundantly clear:
we’ve the same dreams
the same hopes for our children
the same longing for the sacred

Whether searching for the elusive Kedushah
the baby Jesus or those ubiquitous purple Peeps
may we find the unity that was there all along

Let your many prayers flow together as one