advent journal
role call were I to place myself in the story I think I would choose to be a shepherd who did not have to prepare a thing they simply abided watching sheep sleep until the angel choir burst into star song and sent them sprinting towards Bethlehem and then they
advent journal
solstice sandwich today was the thinnest of daylight sandwiches the shortest distance between two darknesses last night it began to snow but it was another thinness icing across the landscape an inconsequential covering tonight is the thickest of nighttime sandwiches the widest distance between two daylights tomorrow the sun will
advent journal
chowder head I think coincidence and soup are synonyms both words mean to fall together it started with bacon that’s when I knew we were having chowder for supper I found potatoes and chopped clams even as I grabbed items as though I was gathering props for improv giving
advent journal
coffee shop duet what I saw first was her solitude as she sat on the bar stool matching the expression of the coffee shop’s blank wall but when he entered she turned and so did the light around her they greeted like good friends talking as they shuffled coats
advent journal
I could hear rain in mid-December days die incrementally losing light almost from the crack of dawn suffocate them with a blanket of clouds and the only light that lives is artificial still light is not life or so I was reminded when I realized I could hear the rain
advent journal
interstices the space between trees the crack in the mortar the time between floors if we took away the spaces between us among us the universe would collapse into a fist the rest between notes the breath before words the pause to ponder intervening emptinesses waiting to be noticed to
poetry
ritual in search of significance the last thing I do before I go to bed is to disconnect my implant and hearing aid and enter into quietness it is necessary action because both my batteries and my body need to recharge so I settle into silence each device has a
advent journal
breakfast potatoes in our favorite breakfast joint on the way home from the hospital for the first time in a long time I heard the sound of one chef chopping the rhythm of the knife beating in my new ear a sound my brain knows by heart when I caught
poetry
fear factor it was not long after the third doctor came by to tell me it would be another hour until I was taken back to the operating room that the woman in the next cubicle began to assert herself “I want to leave” a sentiment shared on almost every
poetry
ablation the word rings in my ears like a rite or a ritual though I am not sure exactly what role I play it means “a carrying away” in its oldest form though medically it’s “a removal of something harmful” they will carry away broken bits of my heart
poetry
Since I had my cochlear implant surgery eight weeks ago, I have been writing a poem a day to help me reflect on what is happening to me and my hearing. This is today's poem. cartography we forget the word map is short for mappa mundi map of
poetry
practice the little blind dog sits with her face to a sun she cannot see basking without asking for more so much to learn