Category Archives: Daily Offerings

Summons Keep me from going to sleep too soon Or if I go to sleep too soon Come wake me up. Come any hour Of night. Come whistling up the road. Stomp on the porch. Bang on the door. Make … Continue reading →

Your Catfish Friend   If I were to live my life in catfish forms in scaffolds of skin and whiskers at the bottom of a pond and you were to come by one evening when the moon was shining down … Continue reading →

I Meant to Do My Work Today   I meant to do my work today – But a brown bird sang in the apple tree, And a butterfly flitted across the field, And all the leaves were calling me. And … Continue reading →

When Will I Be Home? When will I be home? I don’t know. In the mountains, in the rainy night, The Autumn lake is flooded. Someday we will be back together again. We will sit in the candlelight by the … Continue reading →

The Infinite   This solitary hill has always been dear to me And this hedge, which prevents me from seeing most of The endless horizon But when I sit and gaze, I imagine, in my thoughts Endless spaces beyond the … Continue reading →

Lost Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here, And you must treat it as a powerful stranger, Must ask permission to know it and be known. The forest breathes. … Continue reading →

Against Hesitation If you stare at it long enough the mountain becomes unclimbable. Tally it up. How much time have you spent waiting for the soup to cool? Icicles hang from January gutters only as long as they can. Fingers … Continue reading →

In the Company of Women Make me laugh over coffee, make it a double, make it frothy so it seethes in our delight. Make my cup overflow with your small happiness. I want to hoot and snort and cackle and chuckle. … Continue reading →

Holding the Light for Kait Rhoads Gather up whatever is glittering in the gutter, whatever has tumbled in the waves or fallen in flames out of the sky, for it’s not only our hearts that are broken, but the heart … Continue reading →

Every Poem Was a Secret Every poem was a secret struggle with himself, every secret was a struggle, a handwritten scrawl, something joyous or terrible, a fragmentary blood-soaked message wrenched out of his body, a longing for some impossible harmony … Continue reading →