The poetry of everyday life.

Swimming to the Surface

Spilled Tears

I’ve been collecting my tears. Tiny bottles with stoppers are next to my bed, on my kitchen counter, in my car’s gear well, and at my art studio. Their contents are somewhat misleading because the stoppers are not airtight, allowing tears to evaporate, leaving an amber residue. But, clearly, I’ve cried most often in bed […]

I Usually Drink My Tea Black

One reliable measure of my day is how much sugar I put in my tea. This morning I filled half my dessert spoon from last night. (That I nibbled on something sweet before bed tells you something about my state of mind then.) Funny, I would have thought I needed more.

That Which I Refuse in Myself

That which I refuse in myself, says Jung, will appear in my life as an event. The day started off well. I felt good, strong, confident. As the hours passed, a weight in my stomach slowly grew and I felt myself sicken. I became distracted. Unable to focus, I wandered the house. Made cup of […]

The Rain Woke Me

Elsewhere

One of my friends in mourning posted on Facebook yesterday, abiding love for the departed in every word. Half way through, I burst into tears and began to keen, the sound guttural and unrecognizable as my own. This morning I went to the bookshelf, looking for a poem I once read to the one who […]