Handmade Shoes

down to Earth

Category: Poetry

  • Memory

    Footsteps on the hot sidewalk echo; Past fades into present. Music~his Ozzy, my Randy~ Reverberates through flesh and bone And my body gives up an image I can rarely conjure… His whole face, smiling. Another July, When freedom rang because we took it in our hands, Wresting it from the moment and running Over the…

  • January 1984

    All my writing in the garbage can, Deodorant from my friend’s mother, Christmas gifts from strangers. Packing to leave the psych ward For a mental hospital in Westchester Where, they’ll say, an old woman, Heir to Gilded Age money, Spends her last days. I imagine she has a whole floor to herself, Muffled and dark…

  • Mote and Beam II

    It doesn’t matter what others think of you–it matters what you think of others. It doesn’t matter what others think of you–it matters what you think of yourself. This is the crux of the admonition: “Judge not that ye be not judged.”

  • Haven’t Been Making Any Shoes Lately

    I’ve been distracted trying to stay out of the undertow while the waves keep coming. Still, I am in Hawaii so I shouldn’t complain. (Speaking metaphorically, of course.) Actually I am in the northeastern United States in October and the leaves are peaking. The heat finally came on, and all is well. I thought of…

  • Goodwill Hunting

    Warm weather has me searching for clothes~ Loose, cool, natural fiber, Cotton is best. I walk in slow meditation, Hand outstretched, Gently playing duck, duck, duck, duck, duck Through the whites Yellows Oranges Reds Blues. I smile at azure, cerulean, indigo, Eyes drinking in the shades. Green Tags 50% Off Today. I have in my…

  • Vessel

    What does the bear carry on her back? Me.  She  carries  me. We are looking for my soul. We     are     gathering     bones And watering them with blood and tears. Grandmother carries me on her back, Out my front door and to the stars, Into the cold northeastern night Where four brothers dance And the world…

  • Assumptions

    I assume help will be given. I assume we give because that is the law of Nature. I assume I will pass on all that has been given me. I assume love is the quantum field from which all arises.

  • A Poetry Reading in Honor of the Right to Protest As a Patriotic and Historical Tradition

    Manchester, VT February 17, 2003 The people here are weathered and beautiful. There is a man in a maroon wool cap, big bushy eyebrows, gray beard, well-worn corduroy slacks. He carries a book of Emily Dickinson’s poems. People’s faces are open and excited. A feeling of community pervades the atmosphere; we are smiling at one…

  • La Llorona

    Deep in the black velvet ooze At the bottom of the saltwater cavern, I found her weeping for her children. Her weeping makes her monstrous. Mothers warn their young ones away And secretly worry about where choices have led them– About the salt in their blood. I see her Raw fingers raking the sludge, so…

  • Ugly Duckling

    Now I float upon the cool water, My webbed feet gently keeping me true As I breathe and come to. Here I am upon the calm water~ The ungraceful dance, Frantic footwork to be what I am not, Is over. In the distance swans take flight: Recognition leaps in my heart And my wings give…

  • Turn

    Bands of sunlight alternate with blue shadow Across Italian ice snow. I pass through enchantment laid in pools, Breathing Purim air: The air of promise, Promising, promising…. Warm early summer alternates with cold, And my steps dance with the flux, Slipping and regaining in my worn, wet boots.