Category Archives: Daily Offerings

The Name of a Fish If winter is a house then summer is a window in the bedroom of that house.  Sorrow is a river behind the house and happiness is the name of a fish who swims downstream. The … Continue reading →

Sunset Slowly the west reaches for clothes of new colors which it passes to a row of ancient trees. You look, and soon these two worlds both leave you, one part climbs toward heaven, one sinks to earth, leaving you, … Continue reading →

here yet be dragons so many languages have fallen off of the edge of the world into the dragon’s mouth. some where there be monsters whose teeth are sharp and sparkle with lost people. lost poems. who among us can … Continue reading →

Self-Portrait It doesn’t interest me if there is one God or many gods. I want to know if you belong or feel abandoned. If you know despair or can see it in others. I want to know if you are … Continue reading →

The Layers I have walked through many lives, some of them my own, and I am not who I was, though some principle of being abides, from which I struggle not to stray. When I look behind, as I am … Continue reading →

Fox Trot Fridays Thank the stars there’s a day each week to tuck in the grief, lift your pearls, and stride brush stride quick-quick with a heel-ball-toe. Smooth as Nat King Cole’s slow satin smile, easy as taking one day … Continue reading →

Bent Orbit I wind my way across a black donut hole and space that clunks. Once I saw on a stage, as if at the bottom of a mineshaft, the precise footwork of some mechanical ballet. It was like looking … Continue reading →

Saint Francis and the Birds When Francis preached love to the birds They listened, fluttered, throttled up Into the blue like a flock of words Released for fun from his holy lips. Then wheeled back, whirred about his head, Pirouetted … Continue reading →

Guantanamera I am a truthful man From where the palm tree grows And before dying I want To set free the poetry in my soul My verse is light green And it is flaming red My verse is a wounded … Continue reading →

The Blessing Barefoot daringto walk amidthe thrashing eye-glitterof what remains when the tideretreatswe ask ourselveswhy did it matterso muchto have the lastword?Or anyword? Here, please–take what remains, It is yours. ~ Joyce Carol Oates