“Vulnerability” by David Whyte
Vulnerability Vulnerability is not a weakness, a passing indisposition, or something we can arrange to do without, vulnerability is not a choice, vulnerability is the underlying, ever present and abiding undercurrent of our natural state.… Continue Reading
“Life is a Place Where it’s Forbidden to Live” by Jackie Wang
Life is a Place Where it's Forbidden to Live All I remember is the coppiced terrain I crossed to find a house to rest in. Who is the woman lurking in the woods? A fellow… Continue Reading
“Sweet Darkness” by David Whyte
Sweet Darkness When your eyes are tiredthe world is tired also. When your vision has goneno part of the world can find you. Time to go into the darkwhere the night has eyesto recognize its… Continue Reading
“New Year’s Day” by Kim Addonizio
New Year's Day The rain this morning falls on the last of the snow and will wash it away. I can smell the grass again, and the torn leaves being eased down into the mud.… Continue Reading
“Advent Calendar” by Rowan Williams
Advent Calendar He will come like last leaf’s fall. One night when the November wind has flayed the trees to bone, and earth wakes choking on the mould, the soft shroud’s folding. He will come… Continue Reading
“Appalachian Elegy (Sections 1-6)” by bell hooks
Appalachian Elegy (Sections 1-6) 1. hear them cry the long dead the long gone speak to us from beyond the grave guide us that we may learn all the ways to hold tender this land… Continue Reading
“Awaking in New York” by Maya Angelou
Awaking in New York Curtains forcing their will against the wind, children sleep, exchanging dreams with seraphim. The city drags itself awake on subway straps; and I, an alarm, awake as a rumor of war,… Continue Reading
“Ode to Gratitude” by Pablo Neruda
Ode to Gratitude Thanks to the word that gives thanks. Thanks to the gratitude for how excellently the word melts snow or iron. The planet seemed full of threats until soft as a translucent feather,… Continue Reading
“The morning after / my death” by Etel Adnan
The morning after / my death The morning after my death we will sit in cafés but I will not be there I will not be * There was the great death of birds the… Continue Reading
“Fame is a fickle food” by Emily Dickinson
Fame is a fickle food Fame is a fickle foodUpon a shifting plateWhose table once aGuest but notThe second time is setWhose crumbs the crows inspectAnd with ironic cawFlap past it to theFarmer’s cornMen eat… Continue Reading