Swimming Forward… After…
It’s 24 degrees outside. The snow is falling, and I have meatball and chicken broth soup slow cooking in my little country home. I can smell the onions and garlic, the carrots and celery, the chicken broth and thyme. I’m totally alone, and I’m happy. I have a beer in my hand, a cigarette burning…
You spread yourself Across the woodland floor. A colony of answers. A secret society tucked In the woods, born of spores that were born of spores born millions of years ago. Your seed floating from woodland and swamp Through epochs and eras, across continents now divided By water and war. You are a living fossil….
A Red Tomato Bursts On The vine Inside oozes Outward Her seeds keeping time Sweet center Remains Salt Deepens the Flavor As Green vines remains ever deepening her favor Young Weathered hand Calloused cracked, worn Reaches out Hesitating Looking for Fruit unadorned Perhaps his Blue eyes Should be Draped In black His Thick hands In…
Lately, I work with my hands a lot. This desire to create — to feel the musty soil responding to my hands as I bury a bulb beneath the dirt; to cut fresh meats, vegetables and herbs and place them in a simmering pot of broth; to feel a nail sliding through a piece of wood at the command of my hammer– feels primal….
We’ve all had those awkward moments, when our lives are not going as planned, and our world has been flipped upside down, whether real or imagined. We are doing our best to cope with our situation and, often, avoiding going into social settings, because of the fear of being confronted with the curious looks, the avoidance of…