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Wild Poems

My emotions rocklike wavesa victim of forces uncontrolled. My heart singsLord, it’s beautiful.How does that calm survive the chaos? Purple Martins fly,Ripe plums bend branches.Beautiful brick marcheswhere grass grows green.We will all be okay. A jigsaw of cloudsWhat looks forebodingcreates contrast, warning us,“We are alive.” We...

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That Humming is You

No one is getting out of this alive. The flow will continue after you, it never stops. Don’t dam it. Jump into the stream. Don’t struggle. Roll. Submerge. Stopper your ears and listen. That humming is you, your life energy. What you bring into the world. Once you are gone, that particular humming will stop. Love it. Marvel in it....

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Ode to Mud

My first love was mud. In the backyard of the pink house in Denver on the corner of a street lined with other one-story tract houses, my little family lived. Mother didn’t plant, Daddy Joe didn’t garden. The bushes were scarce and scraggly, whatever the developer had set in the ground. Untended, like three-year-old me in the springtime yard in my...

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What is a Gratitude Attitude?

“I’ve got a gratitude attitude,” the kids sang in their joyful voices this week on Grandparents Day. And the emails arriving in my inbox on this Thanksgiving Day encourage an attitude of gratitude. Some religious, some touting its emotional benefits. My friend who died of cancer back when I was on Facebook posted every day at least...

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Veterans Day 2023

This Veterans Day 2023, I’m remembering our early days of living in New Orleans. I would often ride the City of New Orleans train from Memphis to the city. One trip, I was standing in the line at the canteen—trains have snack bars on their lower levels where you can buy drinks and chips. Shortly before, our armed services had lifted their “Don’t...

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My Attachment to Things, So Embarrassing

When Daddy Joe died—killed by a train in what the responding officer called as clean a t-bone as he’d ever seen—Mother said she stopped caring about things. Only people mattered. I always took this to mean that attachment to things was shallow. Yet. I love my new burnt sienna pillow cases in wrinkly linen. I love my 1950s TV trays I’m...

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The Bishop Came to Our House

Yesterday, in church, the Bishop came to our house. She wore her gold hat and white robes. She carried a carved shepherd’s crook, because she is the shepherd of our souls here on earth. At her side stood a tiny woman called the Bishop’s chaplain, as if the Bishop gets to travel with her BFF spiritual friend always. The Bishop was...

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