Handmade Shoes

down to Earth

Category: Random

  • October 10, 2003

    Pain, physical pain coursing through my veins through my arms my legs my chest stomach, head. My forehead feels like a hole has opened there. Physical pain but it’s emotion all emotion; the pain of knowing that like this pain I am worthless and if I can’t get past it I will remain worthless I…

  • Summer Solstice

    Bless you who are in the dark–may you find light in everyday things. This blessing is a product of great pain. It was only through accepting my pain–the fact of it–instead of struggling against it that I began to find comfort in the everyday. The plain, homely events and interactions that are the true bread…

  • July 14, 2015

    Go Set a Watchman came in the mail today. It matters what we think. So here I am day two of writing whether I feel like it or not and I don’t know what to write so I’m just sitting here on the back stoop looking at the green and drinking my second glass of…

  • What if…

    It is like it was before? What if it isn’t as good as it was before? I’m afraid of experiencing or not experiencing what I’ve previously experienced. But the fact–the fact— is, it is never like it was before. So stop it.

  • A Main Theme

    It’s only when we try to twist ourselves into unnatural (for us) shapes in order to conform to some perceived expectation that we go bad. Or crazy. It matters not what others think of you, because they will not be there when you die. They may be beside you, but no one but you can…

  • Foreplay

    We’re in the bathroom performing bedtime ministrations–he’s brushing his teeth, I’m sitting on the toilet. I wonder aloud, “Has anyone ever written a song about Bartleby the Scrivener?” and he grunts, talking toothpaste like I understand. Then I’m brushing my teeth and he’s on the toilet, and he says, “Barbeque This Prisoner?” and it’s lucky…

  • 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…

  • 6 of Cups

    Teacher & student are one. Teacher has been where student has been, and is seeing herself/himself standing there, both knowing and not knowing what will happen next.

  • Thought

    I hope that the raggedness can be overlooked as one would overlook dirt on a child or wrinkles on a beloved grandmother. It is life I want to see here, to communicate. It is messy and beautiful.