poetry

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Just like the big, yellow orb of sun Holds herself up an hour before sunset Not by threads of narrow light thrown to unreaching hands...

Ce que je veux C’est la tranquillité de la belle journée sur la plage dans le soleil C’est la croyance honnête en ce que je fasse, En mes...

Dans ma vie What will I be? A towering tree? The rising sea? A blessing to thee? A happy part of “we”? In this scene How will I seem?...

I. The walls of our bathroom are cinderblock, painted a pale yellow color. Yesterday I heard a girl throw up in the stall next to me. I...

Perhaps today is a day for writing for me And tea, a bit gentler than coffee Though there’s already a whole pot brewed and waiting....

And as I sit on Browning foliage Neath a tall oak in the woods of our home As I stare through waving sun-dappled leaves And embrace,...

I think every ground I've stepped on Has been holy. Every snapshot: An afternoon on the couch, With a tender arm around my shoulder, A...

And as summer fades From pink to a gentle grey Truths loom into clarity Like a face rising to the surface of the sea - Those who are...

Sometimes I wake up With my hand over my heart Searching for the beat.

The trees feed me And I feed the trees - At the root of existence We are the same. We are both dug in, Both so easily uprooted. We are...