Poetry


Whirling

Vines climbing the side of an abandoned store

"the way he cries out for the majesty
he's lost,
give me that longing!"

—Rumi, "Hangover Remorse"

I don't know
if Rumi was bipolar
but I know he whirled,
students scrambling
to write down the poems
he spontaneously spoke
about pain and loss
and the beauty
all around
before he …
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Heirlooms

upright grand piano, tilted
Grandma taught us all
that her sickly parents
sent her down
to the old-timey version
of what we all came to know
as Pic 'N' Save
with a pocketful of nickels and old-timey coupons
to buy old-timey expired food
so big girl Grandma could portion out little pieces
for her …
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Cultured

Costa Rican food, algorithmically made artistic

I have been staging photos
of my day-to-day life,
doctoring them,
and sharing them with my peers.

My plate of Costa Rican "typical food",
You must be very worldly
the pit stop on my road trip,
Wow, a gas station
the satisfying results of a day's work,
You know, if …
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The Name Of My Land

Trees, sunlight, and shadow in Habdur

The name of my land is Habdur.

In the speech of Habdur
hab dur means welcoming place,
welcoming space,
spacious time,
the inviting present,
the just-right here and now.
As a verb—da hab dur:
to arrive
heeding invitation,
to be born welcome.

In my land
the Habdurrin
—sugar maples …
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The Soul of Poetry

Please,
take me back
into the soul of poetry.
This is my prayer.

Geese fly overhead.
I hear,
I open the window to hear.
I open the door to see
countless, three long diagonal processions
one after the other.

Cold moves across my fingers.
The sun is low and red …
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