Thursday, August 29, 2013

Over scrambled eggs and coffee, we
finally found that mythic quiet hour.
The kids were still asleep, except perhaps
for one or two; I don't remember much
besides the morning light, and wind's soft breath
through the door. We wanted to talk about math,
or at least some ancient esoteric text.
This hour might be easier to find
if it proved really useful. Instead we talked
about my trip last week, and what it might
be like to live a life with no regrets.
Just little stuff like that, but it felt right.
Perhaps our clocks were wrong; the Sabbath came
at quarter after six on Thursday morning.

Thursday, August 22, 2013


Young and foolish, so the cliche goes;
the wise ones shook their heads, years later now
it's clear that they were right. Nobody knows
who on earth they'll be, or even how
the change will happen, except to say it will.
I'm glad back then we didn't understand.
We might have sensibly waited. Of course we still
would have changed, and everything might have panned
out just fine, but we would have changed alone.
This has been the harder way, but we
have found it sweeter. Still, if we had known,
we might not have been brave enough. You see,
as father to the man, the child made
true vows to grow up into, unafraid.

Saturday, August 17, 2013

First Flight

We're going fast now, faster than the wheels
rumbling below can grip the ground,
and we are rumbling, too, part of a sound
too big and low to hear, but that still feels
very odd. The little baby squeals,
halfway scared, half happy. Air begins to pound
us upward 'til the trees look small and round,
and up some more until a thick cloud seals
us off from everything on earth below.
The bits of sky beneath us seem so still.
It looks as though we're going very slow.
Strange to think that by lunchtime we will
be back on the land in a faraway place,
where time moves along at a normalish pace.

Thursday, August 15, 2013


We got the kids all out the door, and that,
at least, is something. Maybe Zeno's right,
and life just boils down to tic-tac-toe,
where once you understand it, everyone
is stuck. It's just as well that we don't get it.

Somehow rabbits manage to outrun
turtles, if nobody stops to take a nap.
Everyone's raced to the bathroom one last time,
and dashed back in to get their favorite books.
Naptimes notwithstanding, here we are.
We're finally on the road, and I believe
in miracles. We may get halfway there,
and halfway yet again, until we leap
beyond infinite inertia into change.

Wednesday, August 14, 2013

Full Circle

The flicker of your breath: life is so small
pulsing under butter-golden cheeks.
The final rays of evening light the wall
behind us. Minutes melt to years and weeks.
Tomorrow you will crawl, and in a blink
of brightly piercing drowsy-lidded eyes,
all that's done will be, and we must drink
of some new cup that will inevitably surprise
us all. For now, you guzzle from my breast,
voracious, craving every creamy drop,
grasping at my newly-shriveled skin.
Birth took its toll on both of us. We rest
curled  together. Earth whirls like a top.
Your pulsing heart reminds me of its spin.

Tuesday, August 13, 2013

It's dark again. We've come back to the spot
where the trail curves around, and you can taste the creek
blowing on the wind. My hair is sticky hot,
plastered against my neck and cheek,
stuck beneath my backpack's shoulder strap.
Have we been walking thirty-eight long years
or an afternoon? This is the final lap.
We plod along until the pool appears,
green and still beneath the countless stars.
Just beyond, the water bubbles light
upon the rocks. It will not be far,
but there's more desert still to cross tonight.
I plant myself upon the mossy mound,
stretch out my toes: could this be holy ground?

Sunday, August 11, 2013


Turns out, the tile went under everything,
with no exception for the kitchen sink.
Counters, cabinets, drywall had to go.
Old and nasty anyway... but, still.
And here we thought that it was just the floor.

Rented studio with all six kids:
kitchen, bathroom, beds and couches crammed,
smaller than our bedroom back at home.
Like sociable sardines, no place to hide;
time to finally learn to get along.

Underneath it all, there is my heart,
and everything that has to be torn down,
stripped and scrubbed and built back up again.
And here we thought that it was just the floor.