Handing down orders
like you own me, own my life?
This monkey don’t dance.
This monkey
Reply
Category Archives: Writing
My dog knows why I swear in the kitchen
Food falls to the floor.
I swear at my carelessness.
Dog lands at me feet. Continue reading
Immigration, shame and poetry
If you’re one of the 98-99 percent of U.S. residents who isn’t a full-blooded Native American, immigration is your family story. You might be the first generation in the U.S., or you might be the 10th; but somewhere back in your lineage you’ll find immigrants.
And chances are, you’ll find immigrants who were belittled, shamed and made to feel like outsiders. Even if your ancestors were among the first pilgrims, and might not have faced that on this new continent, think about why they came here. They were belittled, shamed and made to feel like outsiders elsewhere.
Poet José Olivarez is a first-generation Mexican-American, and shame and the quest to belong are very personal themes to him. Continue reading
Snow settles softly
Snow settles softly
on grass
on trees
on fenceposts
nestles in the foliage
red green yellow leaves cup it in their palms
first snow
silent snow
god’s hush descending to earth
Sun shower? Thunder sun? Either way, … wow!
Rainbow
You blazed,
you shone,
brilliant colors banded across the sky south to north
redorangeyellowgreenblueindigoviolet,
vast, glorious, rose-glow below.
Bright sun, a boom of thunder, then torrents
drenching anyone caught unaware.
But oh, look west, and stand mouth agape,
a turkey prepared to drown,
if that’s what it takes to live this moment.
60 seconds, no more (no less!),
the vision disappears, the impression lasts,
the now-grey day anything but dull.
Stretch
I haven’t been here for a while. It turns out that recovering from a broken wrist feels like a full-time job. On top of my full-time job. So I’ve had little energy for writing. This poured out of me a couple of days ago, though, as I read and exercised my hand in the early-morning hours.
