there must be an end to this,
and this and this.
is it wrong to go thru life
with a paring knife, not this
not this, with good intentions?
are we meant to add
or subtract, or stand in the middle
with aching shoulders burning
to hold the weight of balance?
there will be an end to this,
never without fear,
and this and this.
May our bones lay
together quiet & gleaming
on the ocean floor
for ages, passed over
by centuries and ships
and waves, ignored.
And when I no longer
have my body,
in the early morning
may I still feel
the sides pressing in,
the tide in of lungs
and tide out of ribs.
I have so much hurting
in my chest
and joy too
I saw a ballet about you
in Strasbourg
but I wasn’t allowed
to climb up on stage
or say anything
as a street performer
your biggest competition
is the cathedral itself
Hello, this is just to say—
My husband and I are thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail this year, beginning April 6th. I’ve committed to a practice of writing a poem a day for the length of our thru-hike (though I’ve started that practice now and hope to keep it up all year). Narrative accounts of trail life will appear on my personal blog, the proud land. The poems I find along the way will be right here.
Also, I’ve decided to dispense with the photos that have been accompanying my poems here. I don’t enjoy the process of finding the right one and adding it to the post, and I’ve asked myself what they really add. I don’t think they contribute too much. The blog will be cleaner without them so the poems can better speak for themselves. Just in case you wonder : )
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