Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Life is not a straight line

Life is not a straight line
Or an uphill climb
It isn’t a present to open
Or a holiday that’s past

It’s a skein of yarn the cat’s played with
too long

It’s driving fast down a mountain
with hairpin turns and switchbacks

It’s a gift you wrap for someone else
with extra tape, and hide under the bed
Only to find years later, paper torn and faded,
and give it to yourself.

It’s hours and days of waiting, shopping, cooking
and getting ready
for a holiday that never comes.

Sunday, January 20, 2008

Winter Rain

The winter rain returned again this season.
Each droplet landed hard against my roof
sodden, breathing things
unstrapped from life
blown down, sideways and up,
that somehow found their way back home.

One shivering drop of water measures out my windowpane
and remembers how it meant to be a snowflake,
but fell short.

Meanwhile, the shingles on my roof
peer deep into the slate blue sky
and listen for the sound of snow-filled air.

Saturday, January 19, 2008


Classic writing classes
turn a page
tear off a future classic
What if I’d passed on it

Heart beats faster, fastest
write right write now right now

Fling the past on it
Like thick blackstrap molasses - splat
On crisp white linen
Bleached and pressed flat
Ready for the Rorschach of my prose.